Let’s not fool ourselves. Pakistan does not have oil. What Pakistan does have are overflowing sewers, ideological sewage, and a state structure so deeply compromised by terror proxies that even their debt smells of gunpowder. The real oil—the black gold that excites American presidents and fuels geopolitical arm-twisting—lies beneath the scorched soil of Balochistan. Not Islamabad. Not Rawalpindi. Certainly not in Karachi’s clogged drains.
President Donald Trump, in all his bluster and bravado, seems to have let his business instincts overpower geopolitical intelligence. His “America First” mantra has turned into “America’s Greed First,” and in that greed, he’s chasing a resource that doesn’t belong to Pakistan, but to the brutally suppressed and silenced people of Balochistan.
Let’s be clear: Balochistan is not Pakistan. It’s an occupied land. A resource-rich region exploited for decades by a Punjabi-dominated political-military elite. Balochistan contributes to nearly 40% of Pakistan’s natural resources but receives less than 5% of the national budget. That’s not just economic injustice—that’s colonialism dressed in a green crescent flag.
Trump, like many of his predecessors, believes that making backdoor deals with Islamabad is the key to regional stability and economic access. But Islamabad is a deceptive broker. You don’t negotiate oil rights with a pickpocket. You confront him. You expose him.
Instead of dining with Pakistani generals and their rubber-stamp prime ministers, Trump should read a little history—unfiltered and unmanipulated. Baloch nationalists have for decades cried for autonomy, democracy, and control over their own resources. What they got instead were military operations, disappearances, and mass graves. While Pakistan parades its fake victimhood to the world, it simultaneously drains Balochistan of wealth, water, and life.
Trump’s greed blinds him to this reality. He wants a transactional deal. But when you strike a deal with a thief, you inherit the guilt. The United States cannot talk about human rights in Hong Kong or Tehran and then shake hands with a regime that rapes, kills, and buries Baloch voices under oil rigs.
Let’s not forget: the real war for oil is not in the Middle East anymore. It’s moving eastward. And Balochistan is a keystone. China’s CPEC runs right through it. Gwadar Port—touted as Pakistan’s crown jewel—is built on Baloch blood, not Pakistani planning. While Beijing cashes in, and Islamabad dances to the yuan, Washington sleeps on a tectonic shift.
If Trump truly wants to play statesman and not just salesman, he must recognise the fundamental truth: Balochistan is not a province of Pakistan; it is a prisoner. And the oil under its soil is not for Islamabad’s corrupt elite to sell to the highest bidder—it is the birthright of the Baloch people.
Instead of funding Pakistan’s military, perhaps it’s time the U.S. funded satellite imagery of mass graves. Instead of appeasing generals in Rawalpindi, perhaps it’s time America stood with those whose only demand is freedom and fairness.
Trump can have many deals. But let this be one truth he cannot buy: Pakistan does not have oil. It only has the machinery to steal it from those to whom it rightfully belongs.
And to the Baloch people, we say: the world is watching. Some of us are not asleep. Some of us refuse to be sold the lie that Pakistan is a legitimate gatekeeper to resources it never earned, only looted.
It’s time to separate the oil from the sewage. And Trump must choose which side of the pipeline he wants to stand on.
