When Riyadh and Islamabad announced their so-called Strategic Mutual Defense Agreement, the corridors of global strategy lit up with whispers louder than official statements. A pact of deterrence, vaguely worded, framed as a guarantee that aggression against one is aggression against both. But in reality, this is not a document about two states defending each other. It is a mirror held up to other powers in the region and beyond.
The text of the agreement has not been released, only the joint declaration. That ambiguity itself speaks volumes. Pakistan’s Defense Minister first claimed that nuclear weapons were “not on the radar,” before immediately contradicting himself the next day by saying Pakistan’s nuclear capability would be “absolutely available” under the pact. This kind of flip-flop exposes the very fragility of the so-called umbrella.
It is not the first time nuclear shadows have loomed over Saudi-Pakistan ties. Riyadh bankrolled the Pakistani bomb in the 1980s, and Prince Sultan bin Abdul Aziz was famously given a private tour of Pakistan’s clandestine nuclear facilities by A.Q. Khan in 1999 an honor denied even to Pakistan’s own Prime Ministers. The secret has never really been secret: the “Islamic bomb” was, in no small part, a Saudi investment. But investment does not automatically translate into deterrence.
If this pact feels recycled, it is because it is. Saudi Arabia has flirted with nuclear-capable delivery systems before, importing Chinese missiles as early as 1988. Yet, despite hardened silos and billions poured into military infrastructure, the weapons never truly changed the security calculus. The real target then was Iran, not Israel, and nothing suggests that calculus has shifted.
Iran’s surprisingly warm welcome of the pact calling it the beginning of a “comprehensive regional security system” is proof enough that Tehran is reading this differently. Pakistan’s nuclear planners, meanwhile, must be quietly uneasy. A Sunni-Shia “shared umbrella”? Hardly operational.
Yes, Pakistan has a stockpile of roughly 170 nuclear warheads, comparable to India’s 180. Yes, it has land, air, and sea delivery platforms. But the entire system is built on Chinese technology, logistics, and doctrine. Its credibility has always rested on deliberate ambiguity, and on Pakistan’s willingness to contemplate first use. Extending that deterrence to cover Saudi Arabia or worse, a regional bloc stretches both doctrine and credibility beyond recognition.
For deterrence to work, it must be believable. NATO’s Cold War umbrella worked because American troops and nuclear assets were stationed in Europe. If they were attacked, Washington had no choice but to respond. Will Pakistan really move nuclear missiles into Saudi soil under Chinese oversight, within a region saturated with American bases and interests? That is the price of credibility. And it is doubtful Beijing or Washington would allow such a move.
This brings us to the true subtext. The United States, under Donald Trump, has been busy engineering a $2 trillion network of deals in the Gulf, including $142 billion in weapons sales to Riyadh. Washington does not want to station more troops in the Middle East; it wants to subcontract deterrence. Pakistan becomes a convenient tool: strong enough to rattle Iran, weak enough to remain dependent, and desperate enough to embrace Saudi financing.
Seen this way, the pact is not about Riyadh protecting Islamabad or vice versa. It is about Washington outsourcing regional security much as it has done in Ukraine by pushing Europe to bear the burden. Trump’s doctrine of disruption has simply moved into nuclear politics.
Here lies the irony. For Pakistan’s domestic audience, the pact is being spun as proof that Muslim nations now see Islamabad as their shield against India. In truth, the implications for India are more subtle but serious. By elevating Pakistan’s perceived role, Washington and Riyadh are nudging New Delhi to pour more into defense spending just as NATO countries have been forced to do under U.S. pressure. India, which has long preferred prioritizing growth over militarization, may now be dragged into a familiar arms spiral.
Strip away the noise, and the Saudi-Pakistan pact is less about Riyadh and Islamabad defending each other than about reshaping the wider chessboard. It is a message aimed at Iran, a signal to Israel, a lever against India, and above all, a bargaining chip for the United States and China. Pakistan is merely the carrier of someone else’s strategy.
The danger is not in the pact itself, but in the delusion that it makes Pakistan stronger. Strategy built on illusions is strategy built on sand. Riyadh gets leverage, Washington gets its “cheap deterrence,” and Beijing gets another card to play. Islamabad, however, risks finding that in claiming to extend its nuclear umbrella, it is actually standing in the rain soaked, exposed, and with no real shelter to offer.