What if Sethi is right?

The latest episode of Najam Sethi’s Argument isn’t just more talk-show noise—it’s a rare moment when someone says the quiet part out loud. Sethi, in his signature tone of weary realism, suggests something that sounds almost heretical in today’s hyper-nationalist echo chambers: maybe the Pakistani deep state didn’t do it. Yes, maybe this time, for once, Pakistan’s military-intelligence complex isn’t the author of a cross-border provocation. A laughable notion to some, but not if you consider the strange alignment of geopolitical signals blinking in the background.

Let’s start with India. Narendra Modi’s star is fading. The economy limps along, dissent brews among farmers, and the once-hypnotic appeal of Hindutva politics is growing stale. But if there’s one trick Modi still knows well, it’s the ancient art of distraction. War, after all, is the oldest unifier. A border skirmish, a convenient terrorist incident, a spike in patriotic news tickers—it all fits the playbook. And who better to play the villain than Pakistan, the eternal bogeyman? Modi’s need for a narrative shift is palpable, and what better way to rally the nation than to light a fire on the frontier?

Now bring in Sethi’s own claim. He hints that people in the know—maybe voices from inside Pakistan’s deep state—are whispering denials. That they genuinely had nothing to do with it. Coming from Sethi, a veteran journalist with his own network of sources, this isn’t a throwaway comment. If true, it raises an uncomfortable question: if Pakistan didn’t orchestrate the incident, then who did? Or rather—who needed it to happen?

This is where the silence from Washington becomes thunderous. Historically quick to condemn Pakistan or cheerlead India, the U.S. reaction this time is strangely muted. No harsh rhetoric. No overt alignment. Just careful, diplomatic hedging. Could it be because Washington is already mapping its next military theater—and needs Pakistan stable, compliant, and on-call? If the U.S. is indeed gearing up for confrontation with Iran, who better to subcontract some of the dirty work than Pakistan’s battle-hardened army, long familiar with the art of war-for-hire? From the Gulf to Yemen, Pakistan has quietly sold its services before. Why not again?

In that light, blaming Pakistan for a border provocation it didn’t actually commit could disrupt backroom deals and risk losing a critical regional asset. Better to play neutral, keep the channels open, and let India fume alone. And while the U.S. plays the silent partner, China is anything but quiet. Beijing has publicly backed Pakistan, not because of brotherhood, but because of cold, hard infrastructure. The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor isn’t a goodwill project—it’s a strategic artery. Pakistan’s destabilization is a threat to Chinese ambitions, and Beijing is making it clear: this partner comes with protection.

So where does that leave us? Possibly in one of the few moments where the truth is more inconvenient than a lie. If Najam Sethi is right—and the deep state didn’t do it—then the world has to wrestle with the idea that Pakistan is not always the villain in its favorite narrative. That perhaps, this time, it’s not about who crossed the line of control, but who needed the headlines. Maybe it was Modi’s electoral calendar. Maybe it’s about American plans for Iran. Maybe it’s all of it. In South Asia, the truth has always been the least profitable story. In a world where loyalty is manufactured and facts are massaged for optics, the idea that “we didn’t do it” may just be the most subversive act of all. And in that case, maybe—just maybe—Sethi is right.