“Relying on Pakistan as a mediator is like asking a pickpocket to hold your wallet while you tie your shoelaces.” The line, attributed to Douglas Macgregor, was already biting when first invoked. After the much-anticipated talks in Islamabad actually took place, it now reads less like a metaphor and more like a straightforward description of events. Because the talks did happen. And they were, by most accounts, a farce. What had been billed as a delicate diplomatic breakthrough between Washington and Tehran quickly dissolved into a familiar spectacle: conflicting narratives, vague statements, and an outcome so ambiguous that each side appeared to leave with its own version of what had—or had not—been agreed. If anything was achieved, it was the appearance of diplomacy rather than its substance. The real issue was never the idea of negotiations, but the choice of mediator: Pakistan. That did not act as a neutral broker so much as a stage manager—hosting the event while others shaped its substance. Even before the delegations arrived, there were persistent rumours that Islamabad had circulated different drafts of the preliminary ceasefire framework to the respective parties. Whether or not this was formally confirmed, the outcome of the talks did little to dispel the perception. Tehran signalled dissatisfaction, Washington remained conspicuously non-committal, and the “agreement” that emerged was so elastic that it could be interpreted in multiple, mutually incompatible ways.This is less mediation than performance. Pakistan did not so much host talks as stage them—playing the role of facilitator while others wrote the script. A ventriloquist’s dummy of diplomacy, moving its lips while external actors supplied the lines. Indeed, even as Islamabad attempted to claim credit, the narrative was quietly undercut. Donald Trump publicly suggested that the real impetus behind the ceasefire came from China, not Pakistan. This was not a minor slight but a revealing one. It exposed the gap between Pakistan’s self-image as a regional power broker and its actual role: a convenient stage for negotiations shaped elsewhere.

And yet, Islamabad continues to position itself as indispensable. The irony is that this posture coexists with a pattern of selective commitment. When it suits its interests, Pakistan steps forward as a mediator. When it does not, it steps back—or sideways.

The latest development underscores this ambiguity. While presenting itself as a neutral broker in high-stakes talks, Pakistan has simultaneously moved to deploy troops to Saudi Arabia, in line with its defence commitments. This is not a minor detail. It highlights the contradiction at the heart of its diplomatic posture: a country claiming neutrality in one arena while actively aligning itself in another.

The timing is particularly telling. Previously, regional tensions—such as the brief but intense confrontation involving Afghanistan—had provided Islamabad with a convenient pretext to avoid fully honouring its military commitments, particularly those that might have drawn it into direct alignment with actors opposed by Iran. Now, with troops heading to Saudi Arabia, that ambiguity is harder to sustain.

What emerges is a pattern of calibrated inconsistency. Pakistan seeks to be all things to all parties: mediator, ally, bystander, and participant—depending on what the situation demands. The result is not strategic sophistication so much as strategic evasiveness.

In this context, the Islamabad talks look less like a genuine attempt at conflict resolution and more like a holding operation. A necessary charade designed to create the impression of progress while buying time for all involved. Because even after the talks, the fundamental problem remains unchanged: there is no single, agreed-upon framework. The ceasefire exists in multiple versions, each tailored to the narrative of the actor invoking it. Thenegotiations, in effect, never converged on a shared reality.

And that is the real measure of failure. Not that the talks broke down, but that they never truly cohered in the first place.

Pakistan, for its part, continues to occupy the same ambiguous space—simultaneously inside and outside the process, claiming credit while deflecting responsibility. It is a role that allows for flexibility, but at the cost of credibility.

In the end, the cynical reading proves difficult to avoid. The Islamabad talks were not meant to resolve the conflict. They were meant to manage it—to keep it within bounds, to prevent immediate escalation, and to give all parties room to manoeuvre.

A performance, then. Carefully staged, widely publicised, and ultimately inconclusive.

Exactly what one might expect when the pickpocket is asked to watch the wallet.