Pakistan's latest round of mass deportations has emptied entire neighbourhoods in Peshawar and Karachi, leaving tens of thousands of Afghans stranded at border crossings with no clear future. The expulsions, framed as a crackdown on undocumented migrants, are unfolding against a backdrop of escalating rhetoric between Islamabad and Kabul, rising militant attacks inside Pakistan, and a collapsing Afghan economy desperate for labour and capital. But beneath the official justification of 'national security' lies a far more consequential gamble: can Pakistan reshape its western border without triggering a humanitarian crisis or handing militant groups new recruitment grounds?
Why this isn't just about immigration, it's about Pakistan's survival strategy
This isn't merely a border enforcement operation. It's a calculated attempt by Islamabad to reassert control over a porous 2,600-kilometre frontier that has long served as a transit route for militants, smugglers, and unregistered labour. The timing is no accident: Pakistan is reeling from a surge in Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) attacks, a currency crisis that has eroded public confidence, and a domestic political climate where anti-Afghan sentiment has become a potent electoral tool. The deportations send a dual message, to Washington, that Pakistan is serious about counterterrorism; to domestic audiences, that the state is finally prioritising Pakistani citizens over foreign nationals. Yet the strategy carries existential risks. The Afghan government, already struggling with drought, Taliban repression, and a collapsed banking system, now faces a fresh humanitarian disaster. If Kabul cannot absorb the returnees, the vacuum could be filled by groups like IS-Khorasan, which thrives in ungoverned spaces. For Islamabad, the gamble is that the short-term pain of mass expulsions will yield long-term security dividends. But history suggests that such gambles rarely pay off cleanly.
The historical roots of today's expulsions: from 1979 to 2021 and back again
Pakistan's relationship with Afghan migration is not new, it is cyclical. The first major wave came in 1979, when the Soviet invasion sent millions fleeing into Pakistan and Iran. Islamabad, then a U.S.-backed anti-Soviet ally, accommodated them in refugee camps that later became breeding grounds for the mujahideen. By the mid-1980s, Pakistan hosted over three million Afghans, a demographic shift that reshaped cities like Peshawar and Quetta. After the Soviet withdrawal, some returned, but many stayed, integrating into Pakistan's informal economy. Then came 2001: the U.S. invasion toppled the Taliban, and another exodus began. By 2012, Pakistan hosted over 1.7 million registered Afghan refugees, with millions more undocumented. The 2015 National Action Plan on counterterrorism introduced biometric registration for Afghans, a move that laid the groundwork for today's expulsions. The cycle peaked in 2021 when the Taliban takeover of Kabul triggered another wave of returns, this time, over 700,000 Afghans crossed back into Pakistan, many with expired documents. Islamabad responded with a 2022 deadline for undocumented Afghans to leave or regularise their status. That deadline was extended four times. Now, with the fifth deadline passed, the gloves are off. The pattern is clear: every time Pakistan feels squeezed, by militants, by economics, by geopolitics, it turns to the Afghan card. But this time, the stakes are higher. The Afghan state is weaker than ever, the Taliban are in power, and the region's militant ecosystem is more interconnected than in the 1990s.
What happened: the mechanics of a state-driven expulsion campaign
According to reporting by Al Jazeera, the crackdown began in earnest on June 15, 2026, when federal authorities in Islamabad announced that all undocumented Afghans must depart by July 1. The deadline was accompanied by raids on Afghan-owned businesses in Karachi's Lyari district and Peshawar's Hayatabad neighbourhood, where police arrested dozens for 'illegal stay'. By July 10, over 180,000 Afghans had crossed into Afghanistan through the Chaman and Torkham border crossings, according to UN estimates. The returnees include holders of the Afghan Citizen Card (ACC), a biometric document issued by Kabul that Pakistan has long accepted as valid proof of identity. But Islamabad now dismisses the ACC as insufficient, arguing that it does not confer legal residency. The campaign has also targeted Afghan students enrolled in Pakistani universities, forcing some to abandon degrees mid-programme. Pakistani officials claim the expulsions are in line with the Foreigners Act of 1946 and the 1951 UN Refugee Convention, which Pakistan has not ratified but cites selectively. Yet the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has condemned the move, stating that it violates international law by returning refugees to a country where they face persecution. Kabul has responded with outrage. Taliban officials in Kandahar and Nangarhar have accused Pakistan of 'ethnic cleansing', while the foreign ministry summoned the Pakistani chargé d'affaires in Kabul to protest what it called a 'hostile act'. The Taliban's rhetoric is unusually sharp, a sign of how deeply the expulsions have strained relations. But behind the diplomatic posturing lies a grim reality: Afghanistan's economy cannot absorb 180,000 returnees, let alone the estimated 500,000 still in Pakistan with no legal status. Kabul's response has been to open temporary camps near the border, but aid agencies warn that food, water, and medical supplies are already running low. The International Organization for Migration (IOM) has described the situation as a 'ticking time bomb'.
Global and regional reaction: from Washington to the UN, the chorus of concern
The international response has been swift but fragmented. The United States, which has maintained a fragile dialogue with the Taliban over counterterrorism cooperation, issued a statement through the State Department calling on Pakistan to 'ensure the safety and dignity of all returnees'. The EU, which funds much of Pakistan's refugee management programmes, expressed 'deep concern' and hinted that future development aid could be at risk. Turkey, a key NATO ally and host to millions of Syrians, warned that expulsions without proper safeguards could 'destabilise the entire region'. Even China, Pakistan's 'iron brother', has urged restraint, though Beijing's primary concern is the security of its $62 billion China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), which passes through volatile Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, precisely the regions where Afghan deportees are being dumped. India, which has long accused Pakistan of harbouring militants, has remained conspicuously silent, a reflection of its own domestic political priorities. The UN Security Council held an emergency session on July 8, but Russia and China blocked a draft resolution condemning Pakistan, arguing that the expulsions fall under domestic jurisdiction. The Taliban's only vocal supporter, Iran, has so far limited its response to rhetorical condemnation, though Tehran is quietly preparing to absorb some returnees into its eastern provinces, where Afghan labour is in demand. The global reaction reveals a paradox: while the world condemns the expulsions in principle, no one is willing to step in and fund the absorption of the returnees. The result is a classic tragedy of the commons, everyone agrees it's a problem, but no one wants to pay for the solution.
South Asia impact: how Pakistan's gamble could backfire across the region
For Pakistan, the immediate impact is domestic. The expulsions have already deepened ethnic tensions in Karachi and Peshawar, where Pashtun communities, many of whom have lived in Pakistan for generations, feel targeted. The Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM), a key political party in Sindh, has threatened protests, arguing that the crackdown is discriminatory. The military, which has historically mediated between civilian governments and militant groups, now finds itself caught between two fires: it must show it is cracking down on undocumented Afghans to placate public anger, but it also needs to prevent the expulsions from destabilising the western border. The last time Pakistan faced a similar dilemma was during the 2014 military operation in North Waziristan, which displaced over a million people and triggered a wave of militant attacks across the country. This time, the stakes are higher. The Afghan Taliban are not the same as the Pakistani Taliban, but the two groups share ideological ties and operational links. If Kabul cannot absorb the returnees, the Taliban may have little choice but to tolerate, or even tacitly support, militant groups that use Afghan soil to launch attacks into Pakistan. That would recreate the very conditions that led to the 2014 operation, but this time, with no clear exit strategy.
For India, the expulsions present a strategic dilemma. New Delhi has long accused Pakistan of using Afghan soil to train militants for attacks in Kashmir. If the Taliban regime in Kabul collapses under the weight of returnees and militant infiltration, India could face a two-front crisis: a resurgent TTP in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and a Taliban-controlled Afghanistan that gives free rein to anti-India groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba. The 2020 ceasefire between India and Pakistan has held, but it remains fragile. A militant surge in Afghanistan could reignite cross-border tensions, particularly if Pakistan's military feels compelled to launch preemptive strikes. The India-Pakistan relationship is already strained by trade restrictions and water disputes. The Afghan expulsions could add another layer of instability to an already volatile equation.
For Bangladesh, the crisis is less immediate but no less significant. Dhaka has absorbed over a million Rohingya refugees from Myanmar, a burden that has strained its economy and social fabric. The Afghan expulsions could set a precedent for how Bangladesh handles its own refugee population, particularly if international aid dries up. The government in Dhaka is watching closely, aware that a precedent set in Pakistan could embolden other South Asian states to adopt similar hardline policies. The result could be a regional race to the bottom on refugee rights, with long-term consequences for human security across the subcontinent.
What happens next: three plausible futures, and one dangerous wildcard
Analysts expect the expulsions to continue through August, with Pakistan targeting specific groups: undocumented labourers, students without proper visas, and Afghan business owners in sensitive sectors like transport and real estate. The military's Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) is likely to play a behind-the-scenes role, ensuring that the crackdown does not inadvertently empower groups like the TTP. But the most likely outcome is a prolonged stalemate. Kabul will not be able to absorb all the returnees, and Islamabad will not reverse course without a major concession from the Taliban, one that is unlikely to materialise. The stalemate could lead to a de facto partition of the border region, with Pakistan controlling the formal crossings and militant groups operating freely in the grey zones. This would recreate the conditions of the 1990s, when Afghanistan became a safe haven for militants targeting both Pakistan and India.
A second scenario is a negotiated repatriation deal, brokered by the UN or a third party like Turkey or Saudi Arabia. Such a deal would involve Pakistan agreeing to a phased withdrawal of the expulsions in exchange for Kabul cracking down on anti-Pakistan militant groups. But the Taliban's legitimacy rests on its resistance to foreign pressure, and any deal that smacks of capitulation would weaken the regime's grip on power. The risk is that Kabul agrees to the deal publicly but fails to deliver on the ground, leaving Pakistan with no leverage and a still-hostile border.
A third scenario is the most dangerous: a collapse of the Taliban regime under the weight of the returnees. If Kabul cannot feed, house, or employ the deportees, public anger could turn against the Taliban, particularly in urban centres like Kabul and Herat. The Taliban's response would likely be repression, but if the crackdown triggers mass protests, the group could fracture along ethnic and tribal lines. A weakened Taliban would be more vulnerable to militant infiltration, particularly by IS-Khorasan, which has already carried out devastating attacks in Kabul and Kandahar. The result could be a failed state on Pakistan's western border, a nightmare scenario for Islamabad.
The wildcard in this equation is China. Beijing has invested heavily in CPEC and has a strategic interest in stability along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. If the expulsions threaten CPEC's security, China could use its economic leverage to pressure Pakistan into softening its stance. But Beijing's primary concern is counterterrorism cooperation with the Taliban, not humanitarian outcomes. If China concludes that the Taliban cannot control militant groups, it may quietly support Pakistan's hardline approach, not out of sympathy for the deportees, but out of fear that instability in Afghanistan will spill over into Xinjiang. The result could be a tacit alignment between Beijing and Islamabad, with the humanitarian crisis taking a backseat to geopolitical interests.
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Key Takeaways
- Pakistan's mass deportations of Afghans are not just about immigration enforcement, they are a strategic gamble to reassert control over a border that has long been a conduit for militants and smugglers, but the move risks creating a humanitarian catastrophe that could destabilise the entire region.
- The Taliban regime in Kabul is too weak to absorb the returnees, and the vacuum will likely be filled by militant groups like IS-Khorasan, recreating the conditions that led to Pakistan's 2014 military operation in North Waziristan.
- The expulsions could redraw South Asia's refugee policy, embolden hardline stances across the subcontinent, and undermine the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor if Beijing perceives the instability as a threat to its investments.
