The inclusion of Dr Mahrang Baloch’s name in the shortlist for the Nobel Peace Prize, proposed by Norwegian politician Jørgen Watne Frydnes, has unleashed a storm of indignation across Pakistan. Far from being hailed as a gesture of peace, the nomination is perceived by Pakistanis as a slap in the face of the nation’s sacrifices, a distortion of ground realities, and a deliberate ploy by foreign actors to undermine Pakistan’s sovereignty and hard-won stability.
For millions of Pakistanis, the case is crystal clear: Mahrang Baloch is no beacon of peace but rather a figure mired in networks —what many call Fitna-al-Hindustan —that have long championed violence, separatism, and instability. Her direct involvement in the infamous Quetta hospital incident, where she and her associates forcibly removed the corpses of terrorists linked to the Jaffer Express massacre, remains an indelible blot on her so-called “activism.” Those terrorists were not martyrs of a cause but butchers of innocent men, women, and children. By glorifying their deaths and obstructing justice, Mahrang Baloch crossed a moral Rubicon that few in Pakistan are willing to forgive or forget. Arrested and subjected to due legal process, she embodies not the spirit of peace but the shadow of complicity.
Against this grim backdrop, her nomination for a global peace award is seen as not just misguided but outrageous —a brazen act of hypocrisy and an affront to every norm of counter-terrorism. To elevate her as a “peace icon,” Frydnes and his supporters risk laundering the blood-soaked campaigns of groups such as the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA), a UN-designated terrorist outfit that has orchestrated carnage against civilians, students, and security forces alike. The message such a nomination sends is chilling: that terrorism can be repackaged as activism if cloaked in the language of human rights.
The response within Pakistan has been one of anger and steel-like resolve. From Quetta’s crowded bazaars to Karachi’s sprawling neighbourhoods, from the federal corridors of Islamabad to the port city of Gwadar, citizens have denounced the move as a calculated manoeuvre, orchestrated by hostile powers eager to destabilize Pakistan. The public sentiment resonates with a common refrain: this nomination is not a recognition of peace but a reward for disruption, propaganda, and bloodshed. As the saying goes, “to call a wolf a sheep does not change its fangs.”
Diplomatic observers note that Frydnes— director of the PEN organization— has long been associated with circles sympathetic to Indian-sponsored narratives on Balochistan. His nomination of Mahrang Baloch, they argue, is no accident; it is a political strike disguised as humanitarianism, designed to internationalize separatist rhetoric while erasing Pakistan’s enormous sacrifices in the global fight against terror. In the eyes of Islamabad. This is not a blunder of naiveté but a deliberate provocation, carefully calibrated to undermine the nation’s resilience.
The Pakistani people stand united. They reject the nomination of Mahrang Baloch, denounce the hypocrisy of her sponsors, and reaffirm their trust in their armed forces and institutions. The message to the world is unambiguous: Pakistan will not allow foreign-sponsored agendas to eclipse its sacrifices, nor will it permit its sovereignty to be compromised by hollow gestures masquerading as peace.
And what of Pakistan’s record? It speaks louder than words. Over 94,000 lives have been lost in the relentless battle against terrorism— soldiers, teachers, laborers, students, and ordinary civilians who refused to bow to the forces of destruction. Landmark operations— Zarb-e-Azb, Radd-ul-Fasaad, and Sarbakaf— were not symbolic skirmishes but sweeping, decisive campaigns that dismantled militant networks, reclaimed vast territories, and restored fragile order. These victories came at a staggering cost, both human and economic, yet they transformed Pakistan from a bleeding battlefield into a bulwark of resilience. To overlook these sacrifices while rewarding someone aligned with those who sought to glorify terrorists is more than unjust; it is, in Pakistani eyes, an insult written in bold letters across the graves of its martyrs.
Indeed, the international community has not been blind to Pakistan’s ordeal. The United Nations has consistently acknowledged the country’s role as a frontline state in the war against terror. US commanders, including General John Nicholson, publicly described Pakistan as a “phenomenal partner,” citing its crucial role in degrading groups like ISKP, TTP, and Al-Qaeda. The European Union and British officials, too, have repeatedly highlighted Pakistan’s unmatched human and financial sacrifices, recognizing that few nations have paid such a heavy price in the global campaign for peace. These affirmations make Frydnes’ move all the more paradoxical: while the world lauds Pakistan’s sacrifices, he chooses to glorify an individual tethered to narratives of violence.
This controversy also raises urgent questions about the integrity of international institutions. The Nobel Peace Prize has long stood as a symbol of reconciliation, moral authority, and global conscience. But if lobbying, political gamesmanship, and propaganda-driven activism dictate nominations, the credibility of the Prize risks being hollowed out from within. What message does it send when individuals connected, even indirectly, to extremist agendas are elevated as “champions of peace”? Does it not trivialize the suffering of millions across Pakistan who have endured decades of terror? To borrow an idiom, “if you dance with the devil, you cannot expect to lead the waltz of peace.”
For Pakistan, the implications are sobering yet galvanizing. The nation views this episode not as an isolated misstep but as part of a broader pattern of foreign meddling in its internal affairs, wrapped in the deceptive cloak of “human rights.” Time and again, Pakistan has demonstrated its commitment to democracy, women’s empowerment, and the rule of law, but its progress is consistently overshadowed by propaganda designed to sow division.
Islamabad has made its position clear: global platforms must act responsibly and guard against exploitation by interest groups with hidden agendas. If Nobel forums are transformed into stages for political manipulation, the Prize itself will lose its moral gravity and become a hollow trophy for false narratives.
Pakistan’s defence institutions, meanwhile, remain unwavering, supported by a resilient nation that refuses to let terrorism be romanticized as activism. As one security official poignantly remarked: “Peace cannot be built on the graves dug by terrorists. True peace belongs to those who defeat terror, not to those who glorify it.”
The Pakistani people stand united. They reject the nomination of Mahrang Baloch, denounce the hypocrisy of her sponsors, and reaffirm their trust in their armed forces and institutions. The message to the world is unambiguous: Pakistan will not allow foreign-sponsored agendas to eclipse its sacrifices, nor will it permit its sovereignty to be compromised by hollow gestures masquerading as peace.
