For more than half a century, the story of Balochistan has been written and rewritten by forces that thrive on conflict. Separatist groups, militant leaders, and their ideological supporters have sustained a narrative built on victimhood, deprivation, and revenge. Under the pretext of fighting for rights, they have kept the province locked in a cycle of instability and fear. What should have been a movement for progress and prosperity was instead weaponized into an agenda of division and destruction.
At the heart of this strategy lies the exploitation of Balochistan’s youth. Vulnerable young minds, frustrated by poverty and underdevelopment, have been repeatedly misled into believing that violence and rebellion are the only paths to dignity. Tribal loyalties, historical grievances, and cultural symbols have been distorted and manipulated to justify extremism. Student groups that could have become engines of social change were instead turned into recruitment platforms for armed outfits. The result is a generation robbed of opportunities, caught between the propaganda of militants and the promise of a peaceful future.
Yet despite decades of violence, the so-called “armed struggle” has delivered nothing meaningful to the people of Balochistan. Infrastructure remains underdeveloped, education and healthcare lag behind, and employment opportunities are scarce. Above all, the greatest victims of terrorism have been the Baloch themselves — displaced from their homes, deprived of safety, and denied the chance to thrive. The militants’ promises of liberation and justice have proved hollow, leaving behind only bloodshed and despair.
A significant crack in this decades-old façade appeared recently when Gulzar Imam Shambay, a former commander of the banned Baloch Nationalist Army (BNA), publicly denounced the armed struggle he once led. In an interview with ARY News, Shambay admitted what many within Balochistan have long known but few have dared to say: the path of violence has brought nothing but misery. Far from liberating the Baloch people, militancy has deepened their suffering, delayed their progress, and isolated them from national development.
Shambay’s transformation is a powerful indictment of the extremist narrative. He emphasized that the only way forward is dialogue with the state — not guns, not foreign support, and certainly not protests orchestrated to advance hidden agendas. He urged Baloch youth to reject manipulation and choose peace, warning that external forces have long exploited the region’s grievances for their own geopolitical interests. His words represent a rare moment of clarity in a conflict clouded by misinformation and mistrust.
Shambay’s revelations also shed light on the enduring legacy of militancy within Balochistan’s political landscape. He disclosed that Mir Ghaffar Langov, father of activist Mahrang Baloch, was a close associate of Sardar Khair Bakhsh Marri and a BLA commander responsible for terror in Kalat, Mastung, and Turbat. This violent legacy, he suggested, continues under new guises. Sit-ins and rallies framed as campaigns for “missing persons” often serve as the civilian front for the same extremist ideologies, recycled to attract sympathy and legitimacy.
The cycle of manipulation is not new. Figures like Ataullah Mengal have openly endorsed seeking help “even from the devil” against Pakistan — revealing how separatist movements have consistently relied on foreign agendas rather than indigenous solutions. Such mindsets perpetuate division and weaken the very communities they claim to defend.
But the tide may finally be turning. The fact that former insurgents like Gulzar Shambay and Mir Hazar Khan Marri — once staunch militants — now advocate reconciliation reflects a deeper realization: violence cannot build a future. Marri himself, after years in Afghanistan, concluded that only political engagement and negotiation could address Balochistan’s complex challenges. These voices from within the movement expose the futility of militancy and the need to embrace peace as a strategy for change.
The people of Balochistan, particularly the youth, must take this lesson to heart. Real progress will not come from clinging to old grievances or glorifying failed insurgencies. It will come from demanding schools instead of slogans, jobs instead of guns, and representation instead of rebellion. Issues like poverty, education, healthcare, and missing persons can only be resolved through democratic, constitutional, and political means — not through violence.
As journalist Ammar Masood rightly notes in “From Resistance to Reconciliation”, serious Baloch leaders now understand that partnership with the state, not confrontation, is the only sustainable way forward. The province’s future depends on abandoning the politics of revenge and embracing the politics of progress. The people of Balochistan — and especially its youth — deserve better than recycled slogans and empty promises. They deserve a future built on opportunity, dignity, and peace. And that future will only come when the guns fall silent and dialogue begins.