The border between Afghanistan and Pakistan has always been a restless place, a line drawn on paper but rarely accepted in spirit. For decades, the two neighbours have lived with tension simmering beneath the surface. The latest clashes that broke out along the Kurram and Chaman-Spin Boldak crossings are a reminder that the wounds of history have never truly healed. The old Durand Line, drawn by British hands more than a century ago, still divides not only the land but also the hearts of those who live on both sides. To this day, Afghanistan refuses to formally recognise it as an international border, while Pakistan insists it is a settled fact. Between these two positions lies a geography where tribes, trade routes, and armed groups weave in and out, ignoring state boundaries that never quite matched their realities.
In such a fragile setting, even small provocations can trigger violence. When border guards on one side start constructing a post or a section of fencing, the other side may see it as aggression. When militants slip across to launch attacks, the response is often swift and deadly. September 2024 saw heavy exchanges of fire in Kurram when Pakistani forces stopped the Afghan side from building an outpost. The confrontation reignited old hostilities, and by October 2025, the pattern had repeated itself in a more lethal form. Artillery, mortars, and drones were deployed, villages were evacuated, and both sides claimed victory while civilians counted their dead. Reports spoke of dozens killed and hundreds injured in shelling that reached residential areas, forcing families to flee in the darkness.
These border clashes are not isolated incidents. They are tied to deeper insecurities and political pressures that make restraint difficult. Pakistan accuses the Afghan Taliban government of allowing Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan fighters to operate from Afghan territory. Afghanistan rejects this and accuses Pakistan of airspace violations and cross-border strikes. Each accusation feeds a cycle of retaliation. From Islamabad’s perspective, militant attacks have surged, particularly in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan, and it blames sanctuaries across the border. Kabul counters that Pakistan uses security concerns as an excuse to violate Afghan sovereignty
Behind the diplomatic posturing lie lives disrupted by the simple act of crossing the border. The Torkham and Chaman crossings are economic lifelines. Every time they close, hundreds of trucks carrying fruits, vegetables, fuel, and manufactured goods sit idle. Traders lose millions in revenue, drivers sleep on roadsides, and families dependent on this commerce face uncertainty. For many residents in these frontier areas, the border is not a barrier but part of daily life. They share kinship, culture, and language across the line. When politics turns violent, it is these people who suffer most.
International observers warn that the conflict risks spilling over into wider regional instability. Both countries are grappling with fragile economies and internal divisions. Another drawn-out confrontation could undermine not just trade but also cooperation on migration, counter-terrorism, and humanitarian relief. The United Nations reported that at least 18 people were killed and more than 360 were injured during the mid-October clashes, calling for immediate restraint. Yet as one ceasefire takes hold, another skirmish looms. The repetition gives a sense of déjà vu that borders on despair.
he roots of the mistrust go beyond recent politics. When the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan in 2021, Pakistan initially welcomed the change, hoping for a friendly government in Kabul that would secure the border and curb anti-Pakistan militants. Instead, the relationship soured. The Taliban’s refusal to act decisively against TTP elements and Pakistan’s continued deportations of Afghan refugees added fuel to the fire. Both sides accuse the other of betrayal. For Islamabad, the new Afghan regime has not honoured its promises. For Kabul, Pakistan continues to behave like a domineering neighbour trying to dictate terms.
There have been attempts at reconciliation. Qatar and Turkey have stepped in as mediators, helping broker a ceasefire in October 2025 after some of the deadliest clashes in years. Both countries agreed to stop supporting groups that target each other and to refrain from attacking border infrastructure. Diplomats called it a positive step, though few expect miracles. History has shown that truces along this border are as fragile as the terrain itself. Every lull in violence brings a temporary sigh of relief but also an uneasy wait for the next round.
Still, the possibility of peace cannot be dismissed. Confdence-building measures such as joint border patrols, coordinated intelligence sharing, and transparent communication channels could help ease immediate tensions. Trade could be used as a stabilising force if both sides ensured that border markets remain open and safe from militant exploitation. Yet all of this requires trust, something in short supply after decades of accusations and bloodshed. Without serious political will, even well-intentioned agreements risk fading into hollow promises
The human dimension of this conflict deserves more attention than the military one. In the border towns, children have learned to distinguish the sound of mortars from the sound of thunder. Farmers who once relied on cross-border markets now live amid uncertainty, unsure if their next harvest will even reach buyers. Families divided by the Durand Line communicate through smugglers and traders, sharing news across checkpoints that can close at any moment. Many Afghans who fled fighting or poverty and sought refuge in Pakistan now face deportation, sent back to a homeland still struggling with famine, unemployment, and political isolation.
Assigning blame alone will not bring stability. Both sides carry responsibility. Pakistan must confront its history of using militant proxies as strategic tools, while Afghanistan must recognise that sheltering or tolerating groups attacking a neighbour will only isolate it further. Neither can afford endless conflict. For Pakistan, economic revival depends on regional trade and security. For Afghanistan, survival depends on peace, not hostility, with its neighbours.
The larger world, too, cannot afford to ignore this conflict. A fragile Afghanistan sharing a hostile border with a nuclear-armed Pakistan is a recipe for broader insecurity. The border region is not only a flashpoint of nationalism but also a corridor for illicit trade, smuggling, and extremism. Stability here affects South Asia’s security architecture and beyond. If militants exploit this chaos, the consequences will not stop at the frontier.
For now, the guns have quieted under the latest ceasefire, but no one expects it to last without deeper engagement. The region’s history teaches that borders built on mistrust crumble under pressure. The people of both countries deserve better than a life lived under the shadow of conflict. Perhaps peace will come not from politicians or generals but from the shared exhaustion of those who have seen too much war. The traders who want to reopen markets, the mothers who want their children safe, the border guards who prefer conversation to combat – these are the quiet voices that carry the true hope for change.
The Afghanistan-Pakistan clashes are a symptom of old wounds and modern insecurities, but they also remind us that geography does not have to dictate destiny. The Durand Line may remain disputed, but the future need not be. Whether the two nations can transform this volatile boundary into a bridge rather than a barrier will depend on compromise and the simple human desire for peace after years of living on the edge.
The writer is our Editor-in-Chief.
