In the aftermath of what has come to be unofficially referred to as Operation Sindoor, narratives around the skirmish between India and Pakistan have diverged sharply across borders—and media landscapes. While Pakistani authorities and certain quarters of the Western press have been quick to declare Pakistan the victor, citing supposed destruction of multiple Indian Air Force (IAF) aircraft and airbases, independent verification of such claims remains elusive. The Indian establishment, in contrast, maintains a strategic silence on operational details, leaving the space wide open for contested narratives.
At the heart of this media battle is a complex question: can a few downed aircraft negate the strategic and symbolic outcome of a targeted military operation? And more importantly, who gets to decide the winner in a limited aerial conflict?
Several reports—most notably from British and American publications—have claimed that up to six Indian fighter jets, including some of the advanced French-made Dassault Rafales, were destroyed by Pakistan Air Force (PAF) interceptors. One British journalist, long based in Islamabad and reportedly close to the Pakistani establishment, published an elaborate account in a leading UK newspaper stating that India’s losses were “staggering” and “unexpected.”
Some American outlets followed suit. Citing unnamed intelligence sources, they stated that four IAF aircraft were shot down in a “precision response” by the PAF. The articles went so far as to call it “the most significant air victory for Pakistan in over two decades,” declaring Pakistan as the clear winner of the aerial encounter.
These reports have been heavily amplified by Chinese state-linked platforms and social media ecosystems, contributing to what appears to be a coordinated narrative positioning Pakistan (and by extension, Chinese-supplied tech) as superior in aerial warfare.
Yet a closer look reveals that these reports lack one essential ingredient: verifiable facts. There are no satellite images of destroyed IAF bases. No independent international observers have confirmed aircraft wreckage or substantial damage within Indian territory. The IAF, while not disclosing full details, has not admitted to the loss of six jets—an absence that speaks volumes in an age where mobile phones and open-source intelligence usually fill gaps left by official channels.
Military experts argue that while losses in war are not uncommon, inflating them into strategic defeat is intellectually dishonest. Dr. Rakesh Sharma, a defense analyst and former Group Captain in the IAF, says, “Losing a few aircraft does not determine the winner of a war or operation. The objective matters. If India’s intent was to send a strong deterrent message by striking terror launchpads and military assets inside Pakistan, then mission accomplished.”
History provides ample examples debunking the myth that air losses equate to defeat.
During World War II, the United States lost 65,164 aircraft in combat and non-combat incidents, while destroying 40,259 enemy planes. Despite the numerical loss, the Allies won decisively.
In the 1991 Gulf War, the U.S. lost 75 aircraft (28 in combat), yet it completely decimated Saddam Hussein’s military infrastructure, establishing air supremacy within days.
In the 1999 NATO air campaign over Serbia, the U.S. lost two advanced aircraft—a stealth F-117 and an F-16—but ultimately forced the Serbian government to withdraw from Kosovo.
Following 9/11, during “Operation Enduring Freedom” in Afghanistan, the U.S. lost more than 160 aircraft in combat and accidents. The campaign, however, succeeded in removing the Taliban regime and dismantling key al-Qaeda networks.
Would anyone argue that the U.S. lost these wars due to aircraft casualties? Of course not. War, especially aerial campaigns, is not a scorecard of hardware losses. It’s a calculation of strategic objectives met—or missed.
Assuming, even hypothetically, that India lost a few fighter aircraft, does this mean Pakistan scored a meaningful strategic victory?
Not necessarily. India’s targets during Operation Sindoor reportedly included terror infrastructure across Pakistani territory, including safehouses run by globally designated terrorists. Multiple satellite images and independent intelligence analysts confirmed impact craters and heat signatures consistent with missile strikes across Pakistani military and logistical facilities.
A senior Indian official, speaking off the record, said: “These strikes were pre-emptive, high-precision attacks meant to neutralize terror assets. We did not intend a prolonged conflict. The PAF’s response was expected, but our goals were never about dogfighting—they were about deterrence.”
Moreover, according to U.S.-based intelligence watchdogs, Pakistan was the first to propose de-escalation via military channels. India reportedly agreed only after making it clear that its strategic message had been delivered.
As one analyst put it: “In a schoolyard brawl, it’s not who gets a scratch that matters. It’s who walks away making sure the other won’t mess with them again.”
Experts believe the real victory Pakistan may have scored lies in the perception war. By getting several prominent Western journalists and outlets to publish pro-PAF pieces, Pakistan has managed to control the first draft of the narrative. In a world where public opinion often outpaces policy, this matters.
But this raises another troubling issue: how did misinformation find such willing amplifiers in respected international media?
Professor Amit Gupta of the National Institute of Deterrence Studies, USA, notes, “Islamabad got Al Jazeera to report that an Indian woman pilot was captured, forcing a global flurry of diplomatic calls and confusion. Why didn’t India put that rumor to rest aggressively? Why didn’t it challenge Al Jazeera publicly?”
Gupta believes India must counter Pakistan’s media strategy more forcefully, using the same platforms that currently serve as echo chambers for Islamabad.
Domestically, some defense analysts have questioned the Indian Air Force’s refusal to confirm or deny aircraft losses.
Praveen Sawhney, a former Army officer and editor of Force magazine, says, “There is nothing wrong with admitting losses. India did that during Kargil in 1999. Transparency builds trust. Otherwise, vacuum invites rumors.”
However, others argue that military operations are not public spectacles. “This is not cricket,” says Wing Commander (Retd.) Raghav Mehta. “You don’t share your tactics, wins, and losses live. Especially when the enemy is waging an information war.”
Whatever the tactical details, the political messaging from India is unambiguous. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in a post-operation address, declared: “For India, there is no difference between terrorists and those who shelter them. We will strike wherever necessary.”
This assertion indicates a doctrinal shift in Indian security posture—one where response is not just reactive but punitive and pre-emptive.
If terror infrastructure deep inside Pakistan was destroyed, if one of the world’s most wanted terrorists admitted that his family members were killed in the strike, and if India managed to call off the confrontation on its own terms, then the intended goal was achieved. That’s the logic of modern military engagement.
So, who won Operation Sindoor?
If you ask Pakistani officials or their media allies, the answer is clear: they downed planes, defended airspace, and embarrassed India.
If you ask Indian strategists and independent observers, the answer is also clear: they sent a strong message, destroyed critical terror hubs, and forced their adversaries to back down first.
The truth likely lies somewhere in between, as it often does in warfare. Losses may have occurred. Planes may have been damaged. But to conflate tactical mishaps with strategic defeat is naïve at best, and dangerous at worst.
What Operation Sindoor really revealed was not just the capability of South Asia’s militaries—but the fragility of truth in a world overrun by spin, silence, and shadow wars.
As India recalibrates for future confrontations—be they in the sky or in cyberspace—the challenge is not just to win battles, but to control how those battles are remembered.
