The Indian airstrikes on Pakistani territory mark a perilous escalation between two nuclear-armed nations with a long and bloodied history. Since their simultaneous independence from Britain in 1947, India and Pakistan have endured a series of brutal conflicts — four full-scale wars, and countless skirmishes and diplomatic meltdowns. The latest incident, rooted once again in the contested region of Kashmir, has left many wondering whether the subcontinent is inching ever closer to its first major war of the 21st century.
The origins of this bitter rivalry lie in partition — one of Britain’s most consequential and calamitous legacies. The hasty division of the British Raj along religious lines saw India emerge as a secular but Hindu-majority state, while Pakistan was born as a homeland for Muslims. Over a million people died in the violence that followed. And at the heart of it all, Kashmir remained a powder keg — a Muslim-majority region split between Indian and Pakistani administration, claimed by both in its entirety.
Militant activity has long festered in Kashmir, with groups such as Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) and Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM) carrying out attacks against Indian targets. The most recent atrocity came on 22 April this year, when gunmen believed to be affiliated with LeT killed 26 Hindu tourists in Pahalgam, a popular resort in India-administered Kashmir. The attack has sparked outrage in India and led directly to overnight airstrikes by Indian warplanes on alleged militant infrastructure across the Line of Control.
India claims the strikes targeted six facilities linked to LeT and JeM, inflicting casualties including, reportedly, family members of JeM founder Masood Azhar. Pakistan, for its part, claims to have shot down multiple Indian aircraft, including several French-built Rafale jets — a stark reminder of the region’s growing militarisation.
These groups are not isolated fanatics. India has long accused Pakistan’s military and its notorious ISI intelligence agency of funding, training, and protecting such militants — an accusation lent weight by Pakistan’s history of covert operations in Afghanistan and its support for the Taliban’s resurgence. With both countries now nuclear powers — India since 1974, Pakistan since 1998 — the risk of miscalculation is no longer theoretical. It is existential.
The present crisis reveals two troubling trends. First, the longevity and resilience of terrorist networks in the region, passed down through generations. Second, the shifting international alliances. Pakistan now finds strategic kinship with China, Iran, and, curiously, Israel. India, once a firm friend of Moscow, now eyes trade and military deals with the West — notably France, which has profited handsomely from arms sales to Delhi.
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Against this backdrop, Britain’s legacy and diplomatic clout may yet find relevance. Keir Starmer’s Labour government recently hailed a new trade agreement with India, projected to deliver £4.8 billion to the UK economy by 2040. But hours after this breakthrough — one that notably benefits Scotch whisky exporters — Indian jets took to the skies, targeting Pakistan.
Historically, Britain has not been a bystander. When both countries went nuclear in 1998, then-Prime Minister Tony Blair sent Field Marshal Lord Guthrie, his Chief of the Defence Staff, to the region. Guthrie, personally acquainted with Pakistan’s General Pervez Musharraf, advised the establishment of a hotline to avert nuclear catastrophe — a system that may now need dusting off.
Whether Sir Keir Starmer can summon similar resolve remains to be seen. But Britain, as the former colonial architect of this geopolitical faultline, bears a unique responsibility — and a unique opportunity — to act as an honest broker. Even in a post-imperial world, quiet diplomacy from Westminster could help steer two regional giants away from the abyss.
