Balochistan is in the middle of one of its bloodiest stretches in years. On July 8, Pakistan’s military said three militant attacks since July 6 — near Quetta, at a police post guarding the Mangi Dam project in Ziarat, and on an army convoy on the N-25 highway near Bela — had killed 42 police, army personnel and civilians, while security forces killed 54 militants in the ensuing operations. That toll came just days after a Baloch Liberation Army suicide bomber drove an explosives-laden Mazda truck into a Pakistan Coast Guard camp in the Panwan area of Jiwani, close to Gwadar port, on the evening of July 3. The group’s Majeed Brigade claimed more than thirty security personnel were killed in the blast; Pakistan’s government has not confirmed the toll. Together, the two episodes make for a brutal, almost textbook addition to a timeline analysts tracking the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor have now been watching unfold for the better part of a decade and a half.
Ask any Pakistani official about Gwadar, and the pitch is the same: a deep-water port destined to become the Singapore of the Arabian Sea, anchoring CPEC and giving Beijing a shortcut past the Malacca Strait. Ask for the record of the last fifteen years, and a very different story emerges — one written in a string of attacks that has never let the port settle into normal commercial life for more than a few months at a stretch.
The pattern goes back further than most coverage acknowledges. In May 2019, BLA gunmen stormed the Pearl Continental Hotel in Gwadar, the closest thing the town had to an international-standard hospitality venue, specifically hunting for Chinese nationals and other foreign guests. Four hotel employees and a navy soldier were killed, along with the three attackers, before security forces regained control of the building after an hours-long siege. The message was unambiguous: anyone associated with the port’s Chinese backers was a target, even inside a five-star property under heavy guard.
Four years later, in August 2023, the group struck again, ambushing a convoy transporting Chinese engineers working on CPEC-linked projects near Gwadar. The BLA’s Majeed Brigade claimed responsibility, but the attack was repelled by security forces before it could inflict casualties: the Chinese embassy confirmed none of the 23 Chinese personnel in the convoy was harmed, and Pakistani officials said one to two attackers were killed with only minor injuries on the security side. Even without casualties, the episode was enough to trigger yet another round of Pakistani assurances to Beijing about enhanced security and a temporary tightening of movement restrictions on Chinese technical staff.
March 2024 brought an assault of a different character altogether: eight BLA militants attacked the Gwadar Port Authority Complex itself — the administrative nerve centre of the port — rather than a hotel or a convoy. All eight attackers were killed along with two soldiers, but the symbolism was deliberate. This was not an attack near the port. It was an attack on the port’s own command structure, a direct message to foreign investors that no part of Gwadar’s institutional apparatus was out of reach.
This April, the insurgency reached the water itself. Separatist fighters killed three Pakistan Coast Guard personnel in the first-ever attack on one of the force’s patrol boats operating in the Arabian Sea, near the Pakistan-Iran maritime border, close to Jiwani. Until then, Gwadar’s offshore waters had been treated as a relatively secure zone compared to the volatile hinterland. That assumption no longer holds.
And now, Panwan — by some distance the bloodiest single incident in this five-attack arc stretching back to 2019, arriving in the same week that Pakistan’s own military conceded a further 42 dead across the wider province.
Laid end-to-end, these episodes describe an insurgency that has systematically worked through every category of target associated with Gwadar’s viability: its hospitality sector, its foreign technical workforce, its port administration, its maritime patrols, and now its coastguard infrastructure — all while the rest of Balochistan absorbs a parallel, intensifying wave of violence from the BLA and the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan. Pakistani officials have, after each Gwadar-specific incident, described it as an isolated security lapse to be corrected with additional troops or checkpoints. But a lapse that repeats across five separate attack types over five years, set against a province-wide toll now running into the dozens within a single week, is not a lapse. It is a pattern — and patterns, unlike incidents, cannot be fixed with more boots on the ground alone.
The lesson of this timeline is straightforward: Gwadar has never actually operated as the stable commercial hub its promoters describe. It has spent a decade and a half oscillating between construction phases and security lockdowns, with barely an interval long enough for the port to prove its commercial worth. Fifteen years in, the promise remains a promise.
Hailing from Kashmir and based in New Delhi, Mehak Farooq is a journalist specialising in defence and strategic affairs. Her work spans security, geopolitics, veterans’ welfare, foreign policy, and the evolving challenges of national and regional stability.
Email: mehakfarooq266@gmail.com





