During the 2003 Iraq War, Saddam Hussein’s information minister, Mohammed Saeed Al Sahhaf – known worldwide as ‘Comical Ali’ – stood before TV cameras and denied the presence of American troops even as US tanks rolled into Baghdad behind him. His sheer detachment from reality earned him global notoriety and a fan following among irony connoisseurs.
Echoes of the past
Two decades later, the Subcontinent seems to have found its sequel: a fresh ensemble of spokespersons and ministers in Pakistan who appear to be channeling Sahhaf’s spirit with admirable consistency. The context? Operation Sindoor, India’s forceful retaliation to the Pahalgam terror attack. As artillery thundered along the border and social media waged its meme war, Pakistan’s official line grew more surreal by the hour.
And yet, one man emerged as the undisputed ‘newsmaker’ – Defence Minister Khawaja Asif, who provided comic relief amid cross-border fire, domestic disbelief, and global facepalms in dismay.
Unsettling confessions
First, during an interview with Sky News, Asif seemed to forget he was on record, casually confessing what Pakistan’s diplomats have long denied. ‘We have been doing this dirty work for the United States… that was a mistake,’ he said, referring to Pakistan’s involvement with militant groups during the Cold War. But it didn’t stop there. He accused the West of hypocrisy, reminding them that today’s terrorists were ‘wining and dining in Washington, DC.’ The only thing missing was a wine list and a halal menu.
Then came his magnum opus. Addressing Pakistan’s National Assembly, Asif declared that madrasas and their students were the country’s ‘second line of defence’. This may have been meant as patriotic poetry, but it landed like an ill-timed firecracker in a crowded theatre.
Jihadi brainwashed
Human rights activists, opposition leaders, and even members of the international community winced. Tahira Abdullah, a veteran activist, summed it up: ‘It damages the already perceived image of Pakistan… where young brains are brainwashed in the name of Jihad.’
One might have thought it was a slip of the tongue, but this wasn’t satire. It was policy, proudly declared.
Meanwhile, his colleagues were no less eager to join the theatrical ensemble:
The Information Minister swore no Indian jets had crossed into Pakistani airspace – even as smartphone footage from Sialkot begged to differ.
Claim without evidence
The Air Vice Marshal Aurangzeb Ahamed claimed that PAF jets had ‘valiantly repelled the intrusion,’ but offered no explanation for a mysteriously disabled radar grid and several ‘technical adjustments’ at airbases now visible via satellite.
The ISPR, Pakistan’s military PR wing, released CGI-heavy videos of dogfights and downed aircraft that looked suspiciously like deleted scenes from ‘Top Gun: Madrasa Edition’.
Put together, it was a masterclass in deflection, denial, and digital drama, with Khawaja Asif emerging as the unlikely crown prince of farce. Just as Mohammed Saeed Al Sahhaf became a cult figure for saying the unsayable with deadpan conviction, Khawaja Asif seems destined for the same hall of fame, or infamy?
Historical self-goals
There is a tragicomedy in all this. In moments that demand strategic clarity and sober statecraft, Pakistan’s leadership offers theatrical flourishes and historical own goals. While the world watches with concern, Asif and company appear determined to audition for a satirical docu-series titled ‘When Denial Becomes Doctrine’.
And as the region braces for what comes next, one thing is certain: if truth is the first casualty of war, irony is usually the second. And in this production, Pakistan’s defence team is playing both parts – with Khawaja Asif, of course, in a starring role.
