Pakistan’s F-16 Deal: A Contract Signed Against Terror, Not Bharat—Yet Betrayed in Practice

Paromita Das
GG News Bureau
New Delhi, 10th May: When the United States agreed to provide F-16 fighter jets to Pakistan, it did so not as a gesture of military favouritism or geopolitical indulgence, but with a very specific, tightly framed strategic intention: to enhance Pakistan’s capacity to fight terrorism within its own borders. The agreement, forged with caution and conditionality, carried with it both political restraint and contractual clarity. The F-16s were never meant to be used against Bharat (India) or any other sovereign nation. Yet over the years, especially in moments of military tension between Bharat and Pakistan, Islamabad’s posturing and misuse of these jets have drawn severe diplomatic criticism and strategic scrutiny—none more strongly than from Bharat.

The F-16 contract was anchored in a set of clear end-use conditions laid out by the U.S. Department of State and the Pentagon. These clauses emphasized the fighter jets were to be used only for counter-terrorism operations, specifically to support Pakistan’s efforts in neutralizing non-state actors operating along its troubled western border and inside restive provinces like Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan. These conditions were not just formalities—they were deeply tied to U.S. national security interests in the aftermath of 9/11, as Washington sought to suppress the Taliban resurgence and ensure that Pakistan would not serve as a safe haven for insurgents.

However, the ground reality diverged sharply from the stated objectives of the contract. Instead of being deployed exclusively against terrorist targets, Pakistan has repeatedly used the F-16 platform to escalate tensions with Bharat, especially during cross-border skirmishes and confrontations. Notably, in the aftermath of the 2019 Pulwama attack, when Bharatiya fighter jets struck terror camps in Balakot, the Pakistan Air Force (PAF) responded using F-16s, a move widely criticized for violating the core tenets of the arms agreement. U.S. officials were quick to remind Pakistan of the conditions under which these jets were supplied, yet Islamabad’s brazenness underscored a deeper problem: the use of counter-terror tools to support a state-sponsored terror infrastructure.

This paradox has not gone unnoticed. While the F-16s were delivered to enable Pakistan to confront internal threats such as Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) or sectarian outfits like Lashkar-e-Jhangvi, Islamabad has instead often turned a blind eye—or worse, a covert hand—to global terror networks such as Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) and Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM). These groups, with documented support from Pakistan’s ISI, have carried out some of the deadliest attacks in Bharat, including the 2008 Mumbai carnage and, more recently, the 2025 Pahalgam attack. The idea that a nation can plead for advanced military hardware under the pretence of fighting terror, only to shelter and export that very terror, raises fundamental questions about international arms diplomacy and oversight.

The U.S., despite being aware of these violations, has historically wavered in enforcing accountability. While there have been periodic reviews and threats of sanctions, the geopolitical utility of Pakistan as a “strategic partner”—particularly in relation to Afghanistan—has often taken precedence over moral or legal clarity. This inconsistency has emboldened Pakistan’s military to act with impunity, repurposing tools meant for counter-terrorism into instruments of intimidation against a democratic neighbour.

From Bharat’s standpoint, this is not just a breach of contract—it’s a betrayal of international trust. Time and again, Bharatiya leaders and defense analysts have highlighted the need for a global review of how and where U.S.-supplied military equipment is used, especially when the recipient country has a proven history of terror sponsorship. Bharat’s position is both strategic and ethical: arms meant to fight terrorism cannot be used to embolden it through state complicity.

In my opinion, the very nature of arms transfers, particularly to nations like Pakistan, must now be reimagined. It’s no longer enough to embed end-use clauses in contracts. There must be active, enforceable compliance mechanisms backed by real consequences. In Pakistan’s case, the U.S. should have not only reprimanded Islamabad after the misuse of F-16s post-Balakot but also conducted a transparent audit of their deployment history. That such reviews have been rare—and mostly symbolic—signals a policy gap that must be closed.

Moreover, there is a moral imperative at play. How can a country claim to be a front-line ally in the war on terror while simultaneously nurturing the ideological and logistical foundations of terror groups? The duplicity is not just offensive—it is dangerous. It enables the recycling of global goodwill into regional aggression. And it destabilizes the very framework of strategic deterrence that these weapon systems are supposed to uphold.

End-Use Monitoring Must Match End-Use Promises

The story of Pakistan’s F-16 fleet is not merely one of jets and warfare. It is a narrative about strategic trust and its repeated violation. It is a case study of how well-intentioned security cooperation can be manipulated when the recipient state does not share the ethical foundations of the global order it benefits from. If contracts are to mean anything, they must be enforced with consistency and courage.

The United States and other major arms suppliers must now re-evaluate their defense relationships with countries that blur the line between counter-terrorism and proxy warfare. And the world must ask hard questions: If Pakistan continues to divert tools meant to fight terror into geopolitical weapons, should it still be allowed to wield those tools at all?

Bharat’s demand is not just nationalistic—it is universal: weapons given to fight terror should never be turned against democracies that combat it. The F-16 agreement was signed in good faith. But it is long past time that the international community demand proof that such faith was not misplaced.