Trump's short-term love affair with Asim Munir: Why Washington’s Pakistan crush always ends in a breakup

File images of Pakistan Army chief Asim Munir and US President Donald Trump

When Pakistan’s Army chief Asim Munir, better to call him the country’s de factor ruler, stood on US soil and tossed out a nuclear threat against India, one might have expected the American President to publicly bristle. However, Washington’s reaction was telling, especially for a nation that once led global non-proliferation efforts. The response was not outrage or diplomatic coldness, but grinning photo-ops and warm handshakes.

It takes a special kind of hypocrisy that Trump, the man who has weaponised sanctions against Tehran for far less, remained conspicuously silent when a foreign army chief threatened to “take half the world down” from the American soil.

The contrast could not be starker. When Iranian officials make even symbolic references to military action, Washington reacts with the full force of sanctions, diplomatic isolation, moral outrage, and this time even joining Israel’s war against Tehran. But when it comes to Pakistan -- a nuclear-armed state with a documented history of sheltering terrorists, proliferating nuclear technology, and blackmailing the West for aid -- the rules are different. In Pakistan’s case, provocation is rewarded with lavish welcomes, military cooperation, and a fresh round of flattery-driven diplomacy.

This is no coincidence or accident. It is the latest chapter in a decades-old pattern where Pakistan has perfected the art of playing America: offering “services” in conflicts of Washington’s choosing, pocketing billions in aid, and betraying those same American interests when the wind changes. What is new, and disturbing, is how shamelessly this dynamic is now playing out in the open, with Trump and Munir’s interactions bordering on mutual propaganda.

The double standard with Iran

Washington’s treatment of Pakistan stands in sharp contrast to its handling of other states that challenge US interests. Iran is the most glaring example. Over the past four decades, even the smallest perceived provocation from Tehran -- from symbolic threats against US allies to cautious nuclear advances -- has been met with a crushing mix of economic sanctions, military deterrence, and diplomatic pressure. Washington has justified these measures as necessary to counter a “rogue state” that destabilises regions and threatens its neighbours.

And yet, Pakistan’s track record is objectively worse on multiple fronts. Where Iran’s nuclear ambitions are largely contained within its borders, Pakistan’s nuclear proliferation network, most infamously under A.Q. Khan, directly transferred sensitive technology to states like North Korea, Iran itself, and Libya. Where Iran funds and supports non-state actors, Pakistan openly harbours groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed, both of which have carried out mass-casualty terror attacks against civilians, including the 2008 Mumbai massacre.

Despite this, Iran has faced decade after decade of sanctions and diplomatic isolation, while Pakistan continues to enjoy military cooperation agreements, debt relief, and periodic status upgrades in Washington’s strategic thinking. Munir’s recent nuclear brinkmanship would have sparked an international crisis if uttered by an Iranian leader. Instead, with Pakistan, it barely registers in US public discourse — a damning indictment of America’s selective outrage.

The explanation lies not in morality, but in convenience. Pakistan remains a useful, if unreliable, tool in the US’s regional strategies -- from Afghanistan to countering China in certain theatres -- and so its offences are swept under the rug. This double standard erodes Washington’s credibility, not just with its adversaries but with its own allies, especially India.

Washington’s naive romance with Pakistan — The 'services' game

For decades, Pakistan’s ruling elite has mastered the art of extracting maximum concessions from the US while giving the bare minimum in return. The formula is simple: present itself as an indispensable ally in America’s latest foreign adventure, offer limited cooperation, then leverage its position to secure financial aid, weapons, and political cover.

Following the Pahalgam terror attack, Pakistan Defence Minister Khawaja Asif admitted the country’s history of supporting, training and funding terrorist organisations as “dirty work” for the West, a mistake for which he said Pakistan had suffered.

During the Cold War, Pakistan served as a frontline state against Soviet expansion, hosting CIA-backed operations in Afghanistan. In return, it received billions in military aid and technology transfers -- resources that were promptly used to bolster its conventional and nuclear capabilities against India. When the Soviet threat evaporated, so did Pakistan’s value in Washington’s eyes, but only temporarily. The September 11 attacks gave Islamabad a new lease on strategic life.

In exchange for joining the US “War on Terror,” Pakistan again tapped into Washington’s treasury and weapons stockpiles. The reality, however, was that Pakistan’s intelligence agencies played a double game -- helping the US target some terrorists while sheltering others, including the Taliban leadership that would eventually retake Afghanistan. The ultimate humiliation came when Osama bin Laden was found living in Abbottabad, a stone’s throw from Pakistan’s military academy.

Even after this betrayal, the US continued its aid flows, rationalising the relationship as a “complex partnership.” In truth, it was a toxic dependency, with Washington unwilling to admit that Pakistan’s strategic interests fundamentally diverged from its own. Munir’s current posturing is part of this same transactional tradition -- one that the US seems incapable of breaking.

The Trump–Munir honeymoon: Flattery, gifts and calculated gestures

Trump’s handling of Munir is a masterclass in personal diplomacy gone wrong. Known for being swayed by praise and pomp, Trump has proven susceptible to the very tactics Pakistan’s military establishment has long used to charm American leaders. Munir’s recent visit was no exception.

Instead of confronting him over nuclear threats, state-sponsored terrorism, or Pakistan’s deepening ties with China, Trump indulged in mutual flattery. Munir, for his part, praised Trump’s “statesmanship” and even floated absurd notions like nominating him for the Nobel Peace Prize for “stopping the war” between India and Pakistan earlier this year — a claim flatly rejected by New Delhi. As a return gift, Islamabad is set to receive its first-ever crude oil shipment from the US later this year as Trump announced a trade deal.

The optics were calculated: Pakistan’s military wanted to project to domestic and international audiences that it retains powerful friends in Washington, while Trump wanted to showcase his “deal-making” prowess ahead of the election cycle. Neither was interested in confronting the ugly realities of the relationship.

What made this encounter particularly troubling was its timing. Pakistan is in the midst of a deep economic crisis, reliant on IMF bailouts and Chinese loans, while its military continues to suppress dissent at home. Munir’s visit should have been an opportunity for Washington to press for reforms or to set red lines on nuclear rhetoric. Instead, it became a propaganda victory for Rawalpindi.

Why the love never lasts – A history of betrayals

If history is any guide, the Trump–Munir bonhomie is destined to unravel. US–Pakistan relations have always followed a predictable cycle: honeymoon, overreach, betrayal, and fallout. The reasons are structural: the two countries have fundamentally different priorities. For Washington, Pakistan is a tool for achieving specific geopolitical goals. For Pakistan, the US is a source of resources to be exploited until the strategic context changes.

The 1960s and ’70s saw Pakistan as a US-backed bulwark against Soviet influence, only for Islamabad to tilt towards China when it suited its interests. The 1980s partnership during the Afghan jihad ended with US sanctions over Pakistan’s nuclear program. The post-9/11 alliance collapsed into mistrust as Pakistan’s duplicity in Afghanistan became impossible to ignore.

Trump himself experienced this volatility during his first term, oscillating between cutting aid to Pakistan and praising its role in facilitating talks with the Taliban. The pattern is clear: every time Washington convinces itself that Islamabad has “changed,” it ends up blindsided by the same behaviour -- support for militants, strategic deception, and aggressive posturing against India.

Munir’s nuclear sabre-rattling on US soil should have been an early warning that this iteration of the relationship will end no differently. The only question is how much damage will be done before the breakup.

The fallout and why India matters here

For India, the renewed warmth between Washington and Rawalpindi is more than just bad optics. It carries tangible security risks. US indulgence of Pakistan emboldens its military to escalate rhetoric and potentially destabilise the region, knowing that Washington will act as a shield against serious consequences. This dynamic complicates India’s own strategic planning, particularly in the context of China’s growing influence in Pakistan through the China–Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC).

Furthermore, by tolerating Pakistan’s nuclear threats, the US undermines global non-proliferation norms -- the same norms it expects India to uphold under its responsible nuclear power status. It also risks alienating New Delhi at a time when Washington claims to prioritise India as a key partner in countering China.

India has weathered decades of US–Pakistan “romances” before, but the current moment is uniquely dangerous. With Pakistan’s domestic instability, economic desperation, and military dominance, the margin for miscalculation is dangerously thin. A US that looks the other way when Pakistan rattles its nuclear sabre sends the wrong message not only to Islamabad but to every state watching how Washington applies its rules.