When discussing international relations, few pairings seem more distant than Israel and Pakistan. Pakistan has never formally recognized Israel, and every Pakistani passport explicitly states it is “valid for all countries except Israel.” In every forum from the United Nations to the Organization of Islamic Cooperation, Pakistan has consistently opposed Israel’s policies, particularly in Gaza. In the streets of Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad, demonstrations against Israel are common, and religious hardliners routinely portray Israel as part of a grand Jewish-Hindu conspiracy against the global Muslim community.
Yet, beneath this surface-level hostility lies an ironic and often overlooked truth: Israel and Pakistan, despite being geopolitical adversaries, are in many ways ideological twins. Both countries were born out of religious nationalism, both were creations of British imperial politics, and both have struggled with the contradictions that their founding ideologies imposed upon their societies.
Pakistan was carved out of British India in 1947 to create a homeland for South Asia’s Muslims. Just a year later, in 1948, Israel was established as a homeland for the Jews, primarily those escaping centuries of European persecution. Both were revolutionary experiments: attempts to mold dispersed religious communities into unified nation-states.
Neither Pakistan nor Israel fits comfortably within traditional definitions of nationhood. Most modern nation-states are based on common language, shared territory, or historical continuity. Pakistan and Israel were based almost entirely on religious identity. Pakistan sought to unite Muslims from diverse ethnic, linguistic, and cultural backgrounds across South Asia. Israel attempted to do the same for Jews from Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa.
The irony is that many of the arguments Pakistan has historically used to deny Israel’s legitimacy—that it was a colonial project, that it marginalized existing populations, that it privileged one religion at the expense of others—could just as easily be applied to Pakistan itself.
Both Pakistan and Israel were midwifed by British imperialism. Despite its waning global influence after World War II, Britain still played kingmaker, drawing borders, brokering deals, and shaping the destinies of millions.
In India, the British partitioned an ancient civilization, leaving behind a legacy of bloodshed and communal hatred. In Palestine, the Balfour Declaration of 1917 and subsequent British policies set the stage for Zionist immigration and eventual statehood, at the cost of Palestinian Arabs.
In both cases, British interests were paramount: keeping control over strategic regions, managing the decline of empire, and maintaining influence through fragmented successor states. The human cost was staggering.
Demographics played a crucial role in the justifications for both states, but the realities are often misunderstood.
In 1947, Muslims made up about 24% of the population in pre-partition India. In Palestine, Jews constituted over 30% of the population by 1948. If protecting a substantial minority justified statehood, the Jewish claim in Palestine was statistically stronger than the Muslim claim in India.
Yet, Pakistan emerged through a partition that divided regions based on Muslim majorities, while Israel’s birth came through a UN plan that partitioned Palestine into Jewish and Arab states—a plan rejected by Arab states and Palestinian leaders.
Both Israel and Pakistan quickly discovered that religious identity alone could not erase deeper divisions.
In Israel, Ashkenazi Jews from Europe dominated politics and society, often at the expense of Mizrahi Jews from the Middle East and North Africa. It was only in 1977 that Likud, with broader Mizrahi support, broke the Ashkenazi Labor Party’s hold on power.
In Pakistan, the Punjabi Muslim elite monopolized political and military power, alienating other ethnic groups, particularly Bengalis in East Pakistan. Unlike Israel, where democratic mechanisms allowed a shift in power, Pakistan’s political system was too fragile to accommodate such transitions peacefully. The result was the bloody 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War.
Fear played a foundational role in both states.
For Jews, centuries of European anti-Semitism culminating in the Holocaust made the case for a Jewish state one of survival. For Muslims in India, the fear was political marginalization in a Hindu-majority democracy, not physical annihilation.
Thus, while Zionism was fundamentally about survival from existential threats, the Muslim League’s demand for Pakistan was about preserving political and social privileges. Muslims had ruled much of India for centuries before British colonialism; the loss of political dominance, not survival, was the driving fear.
The unresolved issues of Palestine and Kashmir are the toxic legacies of these partitions. Both conflicts are marked by competing nationalist claims, displacement, human rights abuses, and endless cycles of violence.
Yet Pakistan’s continued invocation of the “two-nation theory” to claim Kashmir while denying Israel’s right to exist reveals a deep inconsistency. If Muslims in India deserved a separate state due to religious differences, then why do Palestinians not deserve their own state? Conversely, if Pakistan questions Israel’s legitimacy, it indirectly questions its own founding logic.
Islamabad’s refusal to recognize Israel is rooted in solidarity with Palestinians and the broader Muslim world. However, this position is also shaped by an unwillingness to confront the uncomfortable parallels between Pakistan’s own creation and Israel’s.
The fear is that acknowledging Israel’s right to exist would expose the inherent contradictions in Pakistan’s own ideological foundation—that a state created solely for one religious community, often at the expense of others, carries a heavy moral and political burden.
Furthermore, Pakistan’s internal struggles with religious minorities, sectarian violence, and ethnic separatism reflect the ongoing challenges of maintaining a state built on religious nationalism.
The world is changing. Several Arab states—including the UAE, Bahrain, Sudan, and Morocco—have normalized relations with Israel under the Abraham Accords. Saudi Arabia, the custodian of Islam’s holiest sites, has edged closer to formal recognition.
Pakistan faces mounting pressure, both externally and internally, to reconsider its stance. Economic pragmatism, regional security concerns, and the shifting alliances in the Middle East all argue for a more nuanced approach.
Already, unofficial and covert contacts between Israeli and Pakistani officials have been reported over the years. There is a growing recognition among Pakistani policymakers that rigid adherence to ideological purity could isolate Pakistan at a time when flexibility and strategic partnerships are crucial.
Pakistan’s relationship with Israel is not just a foreign policy issue; it is a mirror reflecting Pakistan’s own struggles with identity, legitimacy, and modernity.
Recognizing Israel would not mean abandoning the Palestinian cause—just as recognizing Pakistan did not mean endorsing every act of its government. It would mean accepting the complexities of history, the realities of geopolitics, and the need for pragmatic diplomacy.
Most importantly, it would require Pakistan to confront its own foundational myths, to recognize that religious nationalism—whether in South Asia or the Middle East—carries inherent contradictions that must be addressed, not hidden.
