Law, not latitude

EDITORIAL: The UN special rapporteurs’ report on India’s post-Pahalgam military action is anchored in a finding that goes to the heart of the crisis: India presented no evidence linking the April 22 attack to the Pakistani state. That absence is not incidental. It is decisive. Pakistan raised this point immediately after the incident, arguing that without proof, military offensive across an international border had no legal basis. The UN experts have reached the same conclusion.

The report does not minimise the gravity of the Pahalgam attack, which killed 26 civilians. Nor does it argue against accountability for terrorism. What it does is draw a sharp distinction between pursuing accountability and claiming a right to use force without meeting the evidentiary threshold required by international law. On that test, the experts are unequivocal: India’s justification fails.

Under the UN Charter, self-defence is permitted only in response to an armed attack attributable to another state, and only where necessity and proportionality are met. The rapporteurs point out that India did not demonstrate such attribution. They further note that India did not formally notify the UN Security Council under Article 51, a procedural obligation that exists precisely to prevent unilateral narratives from substituting for legal scrutiny. When a state claims self-defence but provides neither evidence nor notification, the claim collapses into assertion.

This matters because India attempted to frame its actions as a lawful counter-terrorism response. The report dismantles that framing. It states plainly that international law recognises no standalone right to cross-border military force for counter-terrorism. Terrorism, however heinous, does not suspend the legal order. States remain bound by the same rules of attribution, evidence, and proportionality. By ignoring those constraints, the report says, India violated international law.

The consequences were not abstract. The experts record that the May 7 strikes caused civilian harm. This reinforces a familiar pattern: once force is unleashed without a lawful basis, civilian protection becomes collateral rather than central. The language of “limited strikes” offers political cover, not legal insulation.

Equally significant is the report’s treatment of water. The experts take a hard line against India’s announcement placing the Indus Waters Treaty “in abeyance”. They describe the move as legally ambiguous and warn that any unilateral suspension outside treaty procedures would be unlawful. More importantly, they link water disruption directly to fundamental rights, including access to food, health, livelihoods, and environmental security for millions of Pakistanis. This is not rhetorical sympathy; it is a legal warning.

Here again, the absence of evidence is decisive. Without proof of Pakistani state involvement in the attack, India has no legal justification to weaponise a water treaty. The report makes clear that disputes must be resolved through the treaty’s own mechanisms, not through coercive signalling. By addressing water alongside military force, the experts underline that escalation is not confined to bombs and missiles; it can also flow through rivers.

Still, the most striking aspect of the report is that it recognises the centrality of the Kashmir dispute. It warns that quarrels over cross-border terrorism and water-sharing may persist as long as the “underlying dispute” about the status of occupied Kashmir is not “peacefully settled in accordance with international law”. This completely dismantles India’s position, so it’s no surprise that Delhi has so far met the report with silence.

The report thoroughly strips away the strategic narrative India attempted to construct. There is no validation of preventive war. No endorsement of punitive strikes. No acceptance of collective punishment through treaty suspension. Instead, there is a consistent insistence on evidence, procedure, and restraint.

For Pakistan, the report does not close the chapter. It does not adjudicate the Kashmir dispute or resolve regional instability. But it does reaffirm something more basic: claims of self-defence do not exist by declaration. They exist only where evidence is produced, processes are followed, and law is respected. On every one of those counts, the UN experts find India wanting.

If this moment is to matter, it must be treated as a reminder that international law still draws lines, even when politics tempts states to cross them. The report’s message is not permissive. It is restrictive by design. And at its core lies a simple conclusion: without evidence, force is not defence; it is violation.

Copyright Business Recorder, 2025