KEY POINTS
- Taliban recruitment targeted poor, fatherless boys in remote madrassas.
- Tribal lashkars rose to defend villages from militant control.
- Malik Ziarat Gul led resistance against Taliban in his area.
- Lashkar captured Taliban spokesman Maulvi Umer in August 2009.
- Over 70 peace committee members killed defending their homeland.
- More than 140 tribal elders slain across former FATA.
- Locals now reject militancy, demanding sustainable peace and stability.
- Border fencing and IBOs curbed militant movement and infiltration.
GHALLANAI, Pakistan: From the rugged mountains of Khyber to the windswept plains of Chaman, Pakistan’s western border tells a story of struggle, sacrifice, and resilience.
Once a battleground for militancy, the tribal belt is now witnessing a transformation — not enforced by the barrel of a gun, but nurtured by the will of the people.
In the remote valleys of Mohmand tribal district — one of the seven tribal agencies that once formed the erstwhile Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) — a story unfolds that mirrors the journey of thousands.
A boy and the battlefield
Sixteen-year-old Haider Ali (name changed to protect his identity) once studied in a local seminary. Those were dark days when militants were spreading their influence across the erstwhile FATA, later renamed the Merged Tribal Districts after the 25th Constitutional Amendment in 2018.
One day, Ali’s life changed forever. “I was just a student. They [Taliban militants] came to our madrassa [seminary], talked about many things. They said they were chosen for something greater. I didn’t know what I was walking into,” he recalls.
Without telling his family, Ali left home to join a militant group operating near the Pak-Afghan border. His father had passed away years earlier. His elderly mother and brothers searched for him tirelessly, clinging to hope.
“My mother would wait at the door every evening. She thought I would return one day,” Ali says softly.
But she did not know that her son had ended up in a militant training camp, where young boys were moulded into terrorists and suicide bombers. Life there was not what Ali had imagined.
“They spoke about extremist ideologies and how to impose them, but what I saw was fear. There was no peace — only the sound of weapons and the command to fight,” Ali remembers.
Then came the day that changed everything.
During a clash with security forces, Ali was shot and wounded. Locals found him and took him to a nearby health facility, where he was treated.
After a brief security probe and Ali’s family assurance that he would live a peaceful life, he was allowed to return home — broken but alive.
I was just a student. They [Taliban militants] came to our madrassa [seminary], talked about many things. They said they were chosen for something greater. I didn’t know what I was walking into.” Haider Ali
“My mother cried for days. She never blamed me; only thanked God that I came back alive,” Ali tells WE News English.
His brothers stood by him throughout his recovery, helping him piece his life back together, brick by brick. Today, Ali lives abroad, working as a labourer and sending money home. He often tells others how easily young minds were misled in those years.
“I was lucky to survive. Many didn’t. I just want peace now — real peace — so no one else loses their way like I did,” he reflects.
From victims to defenders
But not all were victims — some became defenders. Among them was Malik Ziarat Gul Mohmand, a tribal elder of the Utmerkhel clan of the Mohmand tribe, living along the Pak-Afghan border in Tehsil Baizai of Mohmand district. He led a tribal lashkar (an armed local peace committee) during the height of militancy.
“When the militant groups sought control over our villages, we decided we would not let militants destroy our land. They wanted to rule through fear, but we chose to resist — even if it cost our lives,” says Ziarat Gul.
The defiance was not just lip service — it bore fruit on the battlefield. One of the most significant victories came when a tribal lashkar of Mohmand captured Maulvi Umer, a dreaded Taliban commander.
Hailing from Badan village in Bajaur’s Mamond tehsil, Maulvi Umer — whose real name was Said Muhammad — served as the spokesman of Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) under its founding head, Baitullah Mehsud.
He was captured on August 17, 2009 by a tribal lashkar in the Baizai area of Mohmand district and later handed over to Pakistani security forces. His arrest — hailed as a major intelligence breakthrough — came shortly after he had confirmed Baitullah Mehsud’s death in a US missile strike.
Under Gul’s leadership, the peace committee dug in their heels, forming defensive lines, guarding roads, and reporting militant movements to authorities.
The price they paid was heavy: over 70 members were killed and around 80 others wounded in different attacks. Yet, their courage became a beacon of local resistance.
When the militant groups sought control over our villages, we decided we would not let militants destroy our land. They wanted to rule through fear, but we chose to resist — even if it cost our lives.” – Malik Ziarat Gul Mohmand, a tribal elder
He recalls those days with quiet pride.
“We lost many brothers, but we kept standing. Because silence would have meant surrender — and we could never surrender our homeland.”
Their resistance, combined with Pakistan’s sustained counter-terrorism operations, gradually pushed militants out of many tribal districts.
Over the past couple of decades, security forces have carried out continuous intelligence-based operations (IBOs) across North Waziristan, Bajaur, Mohmand, Khyber, and parts of Balochistan, targeting militants’ hideouts and preventing cross-border infiltration.
The fencing of the Pak-Afghan frontier has further strengthened border control, reducing militant movement and smuggling.
Yet, what truly defines this new phase is not just military might — it is the awakening of the people, a wind of change blowing through the valleys once ruled by fear.
From fear to defiance
Pakistan’s government and security institutions continue to stress peace through strength, dialogue, and cooperation with neighbouring Afghanistan.
While cross-border challenges persist, the collective resilience of Pakistan’s people — especially in the border regions — remains stronger than ever.
In both Mohmand and Bajaur tribal districts — which share a border of over 100 kilometres with Afghanistan — locals have repeatedly demonstrated their resolve.
In Mohmand, the elders initially curbed militancy through peace committees; when those were dissolved, they raised their voices independently — with Malik Ziarat Gul among the most vocal.
Similarly, in Bajaur, former legislator and a prominent local elder Shahabuddin Khan Salarzai not only took up arms against militants but also publicly vowed that they would never allow militants to return.
The stories of people like Haider Ali and Malik Ziarat Gul are not isolated. They embody a nation’s journey from fear to hope, from silence to defiance, from ashes to renewal.
The sacrifices of the peace committees, the determination of families, and the courage of thousands walking for peace together mark a turning point for Pakistan’s borderland.
Data from sources like South Asia Terrorism Portal, Eurasia Review, Radio Free Europe show that over 140 tribal elders from the erstwhile FATA were killed in terrorist attacks over the past two decades.
Of them, 16 belonged to Mohmand district, including Malik Fazal Manan Mohmand, Malik Muhammad Afzal, Malik Walayat Shah, Malik Sadat Sher Halimzai, Malik Mirajan, Malik Dilawar, Malik Dilawar Essa Kheil, Malik Lal Badshah, and Malik Darya Khan Safi.
“We have lost enough,” says Ziarat Gul, gazing over his village. “Now, our only fight is for peace — and that is a fight we will win.”
From Mohmand to Waziristan, from Khyber to Chaman, the message now echoes through the mountains: “The people have risen. Militancy has no place here. This land belongs to peace — and to Pakistan.”
End of the illusion
Unlike the first wave of militancy that took root after 2003, when many tribespeople — and even residents of Swat — initially viewed the militants with a degree of sympathy, the current phase tells a different story.
Back then, the US-led invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 was seen by many as an attack on a Muslim neighbour. Militants in Pakistan’s tribal areas were regarded as allies of the Afghan Taliban, “fighting a defensive jihad” against US and NATO forces.
During those early years, the Pakistani Taliban who later gathered under the umbrella of Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), won some local support by punishing hardened criminals, setting up parallel courts, and offering speedy justice in areas long neglected by the state. For a while, these measures appeared to restore order.
But as the movement gained power, its mask slipped. Brutality, coercion, and extremism took over. The people of the former FATA were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea — militants terror on one side and military operations on the other.
Now, however, the tide has turned. The militants no longer enjoy the backing they once did. And that, say analysts, may prove to be their Achilles’ heel in what could be the final chapter of Pakistan’s long war against terror.
