Whatever be the outcome of the Islamabad talks — and undeniably, these remain on highly fragile ground — Pakistan’s rearguard diplomacy to even get the US and Iran to come to the negotiating table cannot be credited enough, especially after US President Donald Trump’s threat to “wipe out a civilisation” that left the world teetering on the edge. When the world’s most powerful nations cannot speak to each other, they have often found a way to whisper — through Pakistan. It is a role Islamabad has quietly perfected over half a century: the trusted go-between, the carrier of messages that dare not travel openly, the host of conversations that officially never happened. Neither fully Western nor wholly Eastern, neither Arab nor Persian, Pakistan occupies a peculiar diplomatic sweet spot — and it has learned, with considerable skill, to make that ambiguity pay. The most celebrated example came in 1971, when General Yahya Khan’s government shepherded Henry Kissinger through Islamabad on a clandestine flight to Beijing, laying the groundwork for Nixon’s historic opening to China. It was a masterstroke of quiet statecraft — Pakistan asking no questions, seeking no credit, content with gratitude and goodwill from two of the world’s great powers simultaneously. That currency proved extraordinarily durable. The pattern repeated across the decades, in different registers and with varying degrees of success. During the Soviet-Afghan War, Pakistan was the indispensable frontline partner in the UN-brokered Geneva talks, coordinating mujahideen pressure and diplomatic suasion in equal measure until Moscow agreed to withdraw. The resulting accords were a genuine achievement. Between 2018 and 2020, Pakistan’s stubborn leverage over the Afghan Taliban made it central to the Doha Agreement, the deal that ended America’s longest war. In the chronic cold war between Riyadh and Tehran, Islamabad has positioned itself with particular care. It declined to join Saudi Arabia’s Yemen coalition in 2015, a decision that caused diplomatic friction but preserved Pakistan’s credibility in Tehran. It then used that credibility to quietly work the phones during successive spikes in Gulf tension offering itself as a de-escalation channel at moments when the alternative was an escalation nobody could afford. These were not headline-grabbing mediations. They were precisely the kind Pakistan does best: discreet and potentially invaluable. What makes Islamabad useful in these situations is that its relationships run in every direction simultaneously — a sometimes-fractious — but currently, close — partnership with Washington, inseparable ties with Tehran, economic dependency on the Gulf states, and an all-weather strategic alliance with Beijing. Where outside observers see a country pulled uncomfortably in competing directions, Islamabad sees leverage. The contradiction is the asset. It is worth noting who augments this diplomacy: the powerful military that sustains Pakistan’s backchannel relationships across administrations, elections, and crises. Now, in 2026, that same tradecraft is being applied to the most combustible dossier on the planet: the long-running stand-off between Washington and Tehran. Islamabad is hosting talks, passing proposals — including a reported 15-point American framework — co-ordinating with Turkiye, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and China, and presenting itself, with characteristic understatement, as merely honoured to be of service to regional peace. Whether this episode yields a genuine breakthrough or dissolves into the familiar fog of stalled negotiations remains genuinely uncertain. But the instinct endures, and the infrastructure of relationships that makes it possible has never been dismantled. In a world that runs chronically short of honest brokers — of countries trusted, however provisionally, by parties who trust almost nobody else — Pakistan keeps raising its hand. In the right moment, that is no small thing to be.
