By Riaz Waheed
In the border towns of Balochistan, the US-Iran war is not a distant geopolitical conflict; it is an economic reality. In Panjgur, Turbat and Gwadar, young men who once drove trucks to the Iranian border to bring back cheap fuel are now struggling to make ends meet as cross-border supplies have fallen sharply.
Their livelihoods have been disrupted by a conflict they had no role in starting but whose consequences they cannot escape.The US-Iran war began on February 28, 2026, with joint American and Israeli strikes that killed Iran’s Supreme Leader on the first day.
Thousands of Iranians have died since, and the Strait of Hormuz, through which a fifth of the world’s oil passes, has been repeatedly disrupted. For a country like Pakistan, which buys most of its oil from the Gulf, this is a kitchen-table crisis.
The price we paid
Brent crude jumped from about $72 on the eve of the war to more than $110 within weeks, briefly touching $120. Pakistan raised fuel prices more than once. By May, petrol and diesel each cost about Rs415 per litre, compared with Rs266 and Rs281, respectively, before the war. Both remain more than 40 per cent higher today.
Power shortfalls reached between 4,500 and 6,500 megawatts in April after LNG cargoes were disrupted, and some rural areas experienced load-shedding of up to 14 hours a day.Behind these numbers are a shopkeeper whose freezer has stopped working, a rickshaw driver who cannot afford petrol, and a mother cutting down on what she cooks.
There is another, quieter concern. Millions of Pakistani families depend on remittances from the Gulf, which account for about 55 per cent of the country’s total remittances. If the war spreads further, the first people to feel its impact will be the labourers, drivers and nurses working abroad who send money home every month.
An unlikely peacemaker
And yet, amid all this, Pakistan did something remarkable. It declined to take sides, condemning attacks on Iran as well as those on the Gulf states.
When Washington’s deadline for Iran was approaching in April, Pakistan’s leadership worked through the night with both sides. The result was the ceasefire announced on April 7-8, followed by talks hosted in Islamabad that ended on April 12 without a comprehensive agreement.
It was only on June 17 that the two sides signed the Islamabad Memorandum of Understanding. Why Pakistan? Because it is a rare country that both Tehran and Washington could trust enough to listen to.
Iran would not have accepted India, given its close ties with Israel. Pakistan shares a long border and deep cultural ties with Iran, while its relations with the US have improved markedly since 2025.
The peace has remained fragile. The ceasefire has broken down more than once, and in July, both sides struck each other again. The Islamabad MoU formally expired in August following the renewed hostilities. Still, Pakistan’s army chief and ministers continued travelling to Tehran.
On October 30, the military’s spokesman, Lt Gen Ahmed Sharif Chaudhry, described the army as “cautiously optimistic” about mediation. Whatever the outcome, the mediation effort has earned Pakistan a seat at the table that it has not held in decades.
Where the opportunities lie
Opportunity is a delicate word to use in the context of war. But a country that has borne the costs is entitled to ask what it can build from them. I see four possibilities.
First, diplomatic standing. Pakistan has shown that a middle power can matter by being trusted rather than by being strong. That credibility can be used to advance issues that matter most to us: IMF negotiations, Gulf investment and a more balanced relationship with both Washington and Beijing.
The task now is to turn a personal triumph into an institutional habit, supported by a foreign office, parliament and think tanks that can sustain this role beyond any one set of leaders.
Second, trade that operates openly. The Pakistan-Iran border supports substantial informal trade, much of which provides the only livelihood for people in Balochistan’s border districts.
In August 2026, the two countries agreed to work towards $10 billion in annual bilateral trade. That is a target, not the current trade volume, and it will be difficult to achieve while so much of the trade remains informal. When the Strait was disrupted, Pakistan opened overland routes linking Karachi, Port Qasim and Gwadar to the Iranian crossings at Taftan and Gabd.
The crisis has demonstrated the value of these corridors. Turning smuggling into licensed trade, supported by proper markets, fuel depots and customs posts, would provide people in Balochistan with legal sources of income and give the state a greater stake in their well-being. Gwadar, long promised as a regional hub, finally has a reason to fulfil that role.
Third, energy independence. On April 6, the Finance Ministry reported that the country had roughly 12 days’ worth of crude oil stocks and 25 days’ worth of diesel supplies. A country whose reserves are measured in days rather than months has little margin for error. This war should serve as a final warning.
Strategic storage, solar and wind power, and a gradual shift away from furnace oil would protect Pakistan during the next crisis, wherever it begins. Some of these measures will cost money now, but all of them will cost less than another price shock.
Fourth, a role in recovery. The Islamabad MoU committed the US to developing a reconstruction and economic development plan worth at least $300 billion with regional partners.
If a renewed agreement revives that commitment, there will be demand for construction materials, food, medicines and skilled labour. Pakistan is the nearest supplier with the workforce to meet that demand.
A neighbour that helped end the war has a fair claim to help rebuild the affected areas, provided this is done transparently and within the limits of international sanctions.
The risks we should not forget
None of this will happen automatically. Instability in Iran could make the border with Balochistan more dangerous, and militants have long exploited that terrain. An influx of refugees, as witnessed during the Afghan crisis, would put further pressure on a country that is already stretched.
Sectarian tensions over Iran have divided Pakistanis before and could do so again. Moreover, mediation that rests on a few individuals can end as quickly as it began.
Above all, peacemaking abroad means little if we neglect justice at home. The farmer in Panjgur and the transporter in Turbat are waiting to see whether the state’s new diplomatic confidence will translate into tangible benefits for them.
A chance to be remembered well
Nations rarely choose their moments. Pakistan did not start this war, and it should not pretend to profit from it. But it has been given a chance to be known for something other than crisis: as a country that picked up the phone when others were reaching for weapons.
If we use that opportunity wisely by investing in our people, trading openly with our neighbours and strengthening the institutions that make diplomacy sustainable, this painful year may be remembered as the one in which Pakistan learned what peace is worth.
(The writer is a political analyst and researcher at SPIR, QAU.)
