
By Asghar Ali Mubarak
The quiet signing of a uranium supply agreement between Canada and India has once again stirred an old and unresolved debate about fairness, credibility and strategic stability in the global nuclear order. While the two countries have framed the deal as a natural extension of civil nuclear cooperation, the reaction from Pakistan reflects a deeper anxiety shared by many observers of South Asian security: that selective exceptions in nuclear arrangements risk eroding the very principles on which the international non-proliferation regime was built. Islamabad’s concern is rooted in history. India’s first nuclear test in 1974, conducted under the codename Smiling Buddha nuclear test, fundamentally altered the global debate on nuclear cooperation.
The explosion, carried out using technology and materials originally supplied for peaceful purposes, prompted the creation of the Nuclear Suppliers Group, an international consortium intended to regulate nuclear trade and prevent civilian assistance from being diverted to military programs. For decades, the guiding principle was clear: countries that remained outside strict international safeguards would face restrictions on access to nuclear materials and technology. Yet the geopolitical realities of the 21st century have gradually reshaped that principle. India, despite not being a signatory to the Treaty on the Non‑Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, has steadily expanded its civil nuclear partnerships with several Western states. The new decade-long uranium supply agreement with Canada is the latest chapter in that trend.
Officials in New Delhi argue that the arrangement will simply help fuel India’s expanding network of nuclear power plants and support its growing energy needs. From their perspective, the partnership represents a pragmatic recognition of India’s role as a major economy and a responsible nuclear state. However, Pakistan sees the matter differently. Officials in Islamabad point out that not all of India’s civilian nuclear facilities are under the supervision of the International Atomic Energy Agency. This distinction is more than technical. When some reactors remain outside international inspection, critics argue that imported uranium intended for civilian power generation could indirectly free up domestic resources for military purposes. In the highly sensitive strategic environment of South Asia, even the perception of such an imbalance carries significant consequences.
To understand the concern, it helps to consider the mechanics of nuclear fuel itself. Uranium, though relatively abundant in nature, contains only a tiny fraction of the isotope required for nuclear reactions. Natural uranium is composed primarily of uranium-238, while the fissile isotope uranium-235 makes up less than one percent. For civilian nuclear reactors, the proportion of uranium-235 must be increased through a complex process known as enrichment. The material is converted into uranium hexafluoride gas and spun through thousands of rapidly rotating centrifuges that gradually separate the lighter fissile isotope from the heavier one. At enrichment levels of around 3 to 5 per cent, uranium becomes suitable fuel for nuclear power plants. Higher concentrations are used for specialized purposes such as medical isotope production.
However, when enrichment reaches around 90 per cent, the material becomes weapons-grade, capable of sustaining the rapid chain reaction required for a nuclear explosion. According to estimates by the International Atomic Energy Agency, roughly 42 kilograms of highly enriched uranium is sufficient to produce a single nuclear weapon. The process of enrichment is technically demanding and enormously expensive. Only a handful of states possess the industrial capacity to operate the thousands of centrifuges needed for large-scale production. Yet once such infrastructure exists, the distinction between civilian and military applications becomes less absolute than policymakers might prefer. The same technological base that powers electricity generation can, under different circumstances, enable the production of nuclear weapons material.
That ambiguity lies at the heart of Pakistan’s warning about the potential consequences of the Canada-India agreement. Islamabad argues that selective nuclear cooperation undermines the credibility of the global non-proliferation system by rewarding some states while excluding others. From this perspective, the rules appear to shift according to geopolitical convenience rather than consistent legal standards. If the international non-proliferation framework is to retain credibility, it must avoid the impression of selective privilege. A system built on universal rules cannot function effectively when those rules appear negotiable for some and binding for others. The Canada-India uranium agreement may strengthen bilateral ties and support energy ambitions, but it also revives a fundamental question that has never been fully resolved: whether the global nuclear order is guided by principle, or increasingly shaped by power.
(The writer is a senior journalist covering various beats, can be reached at editorial@metro-morning.com)
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