Pakistan is a Guinea-Pig for China

 Many of you may already know that guinea pigs are often used in laboratories tests due to their genetic similarities with humans. But let me be clear this is not a veiled attempt to liken our neighbours to animals. Despite the hostilities and the pain inflicted, we do not resort to insults. Pakistan remains our neighbor, and while we struck back hard in response to terrorism, we have always approached dialogue with the dignity of equals.

In its relentless quest for an artificial identity, Pakistan has reduced itself to the role of a geopolitical guinea pig—this time, for China. Let me explain how.

China, aspiring to become a dominant global superpower, has long sought to prove its superiority in advanced military technology. While its economic influence is vast, its credibility in the defence sector lags far behind nations like the USA, Russia, France, and Japan. To break into the trillion-dollar global defence market, China must do more than manufacture arms—it must prove their battlefield reliability. And this is where the dilemma lies: no major military power trusts Chinese defence technology in real combat scenarios.

While nations may willingly buy Chinese toys, electronics, or commercial drones, when it comes to sophisticated defence systems—missiles, air defence platforms, or stealth drones—China finds few takers. Among the handful of nations that purchase Chinese defence equipment, Pakistan remains the largest and most committed buyer, with nearly 81% of its military imports sourced from China. A few others—such as Serbia, some African states, and Thailand—also procure limited systems, but none rely on China with the same intensity or trust.

However, there's a critical problem: China’s defence equipment lacks real war-time testing. Unlike Russia, which has tested its systems in Syria and Ukraine, or the US, which has decades of combat-proven hardware, China has limited war experience and has reverse-engineered much of its technology in isolation. Without validation in active military operations, even its most sophisticated systems remain untrusted in the global market.

Let me draw a parallel with India to explain why combat testing is vital. When India developed its indigenous Dhanush artillery guns and Pinaka multi-barrel rocket launchers, their credibility grew because these systems were routinely used and refined in real-time conflict situations along the India-Pakistan and India-China borders. India also replaced its aging Italian Bofors guns with Indian-made systems, along with manufacturing its own artillery shells.

However, when it came to exporting the BrahMos cruise missile—a supersonic missile

developed jointly with Russia—there was hesitation among buyers due to its high cost and the lack of real-war validation. Despite its unmatched features—Mach 3.5 to 5.0 speeds, stealth, and a 300 kg warhead—clients were reluctant to commit without seeing it in action.

Then came the "accidental firing" incident: a BrahMos missile was inadvertently launched into Pakistani airspace. This so-called "mistake" occurred at a time when Chinese air defence systems were being demonstrated in Pakistan. Not only did the BrahMos go undetected, it landed deep inside Pakistan without interception. While officially termed an accident, many experts invite readers to "read between the lines." The global message was clear: this missile was real, reliable, and unstoppable. Soon after, India began receiving formal interest and export orders for the BrahMos system.

China was rattled. It had showcased its missile defence in Pakistan—systems meant to impress other buyers—and they failed dramatically during this "unplanned test." It forced China to recalibrate and patch its air defence technology and pacify its primary client, Pakistan.

Now, in the same spirit, China needed to test its own missiles and advanced weaponry in a real war-like environment. But no nation was willing to offer their soil for such a risky experiment—except one. Pakistan.

And so, when a gruesome terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Kashmir occurred—executed with surgical brutality—it was not merely a proxy act by Pakistan. It was a coordinated provocation backed by China, designed to lure India into war. The goal? Not just to test Pakistan’s resolve, but to use Pakistan as a battlefield lab for Chinese defence hardware—missiles, air defences, radar systems, and even stealth drones.

The Pakistan-China partnership, therefore, isn’t one of equals. It’s a calculated arrangement where Pakistan offers its soil and soldiers in exchange for military patronage, diplomatic cover, and an illusion of parity with India. In reality, Pakistan has become a testing ground for a rising superpower’s ambitions.

But unfortunately for Pakistan, China failed them—miserably.
The much-hyped Chinese air defence systems deployed across key Pakistani military

installations turned out to be a massive disappointment, practically useless in combat. India hit every designated target with precision and impunity, delivering a severe blow not only to Pakistan’s military pride but also to China’s credibility as a defence technology supplier.

The situation was so grim and embarrassing that Pakistan’s Defence Minister made a laughable claim on international media—he said that they didn’t shoot down Indian drones because they “didn’t want to reveal their capabilities to India.” This statement was not just bizarre, it was an indirect confession: their systems had failed to detect Indian drones, let alone India’s stealth missiles.

While Pakistan’s Chinese-supplied defence systems failed to respond, India’s indigenous and imported systems performed brilliantly. India had already developed a new advanced missile defence shield named Akash Teer—designed to detect and neutralize drones, rockets, and cruise missiles. Though Akash Teer was relatively new and hadn’t been tested in full-scale war, it exceeded all expectations.

India had also deployed the Russian-made S-400 Triumph system, one of the most advanced air defence systems in the world. But interestingly, India never had to use the S-400 against Pakistan. The homegrown Akash Teer system was more than enough to intercept everything—Chinese missiles, drones, and Turkish stealth UAVs—fired from Pakistani soil.

China’s failures didn’t stop there.
Desperate to overwhelm Indian defences, China advised Pakistan to launch swarm drone attacks, with 150 to 300 drones released simultaneously, hoping to saturate and confuse Indian air defence radars. But to the world’s surprise—and China’s horror—India’s defence grid remained robust. The swarm drones were systematically intercepted, showcasing not just technological maturity but strategic superiority.

Even Turkey’s cutting-edge stealth drones, considered on par with American UAV technology, couldn’t breach Indian defences. They too were shot down one after the other, making it clear: India’s technology had evolved, matured, and passed the ultimate test—real war.

The net result?

• Pakistan’s confidence was shattered.
• China’s credibility as a defence exporter took a serious hit.
• And India proved to the world that not only could it defend against high-tech threats, but it could do so with its own indigenous systems.

Why Was India So Successful in the 2025 War?

The answer lies in India’s long-term strategic foresight and its honest recognition of its technological gaps. Unlike China, which focused on rapidly producing indigenous equipment without real battlefield validation, India chose a more pragmatic and partnership-driven path.

1. India Understood Its Deficiencies Early

India’s defence manufacturing sector was not historically strong. It was only after 2014 that the Indian government aggressively pushed for indigenous development under the 'Make in India' and 'Atmanirbhar Bharat' initiatives. However, India also knew that catching up with global players like the U.S., Russia, and France wouldn't be possible overnight. Instead of building from scratch in isolation, India chose collaboration. It developed strong diplomatic and industrial ties with established defence manufacturers—on one clear condition: technology transfer. India wasn’t just looking to buy weapons; it wanted to learn, adapt, and then build better versions.

2. Trust in Indian Scientists and Engineers

India had already proved its scientific prowess through the Indian Space Research

Organisation (ISRO), which amazed the world by sending satellites into space at a fraction of the global cost. That gave the Indian leadership confidence to believe that its defence scientists could also deliver—if they were supported and funded properly.

So the strategy was simple:

• Buy quality technology from trusted nations,
• Integrate it with Indian platforms,
• Improve, and then
• Build India's own next-gen platforms.

This approach bridged the time and experience gap much faster than trying to start from zero.

3. Fighter Jets – India’s Biggest Hurdle

One area where India struggled was jet engine technology, especially for supersonic fighter jets. No country was willing to share engine technology. India had launched the Kaveri Engine Project, but it faced technical delays.

To keep the Tejas Light Combat Aircraft (LCA) project alive, India bought the GE F404-IN20 engines from the U.S.:

• GE delivered 65 engines by 2016.
• In 2021, India ordered 99 more engines.
• But in a strategic move, the U.S. stalled the delivery, once it became clear that India’s AMCA (Advanced Medium Combat Aircraft)—a fifth-generation stealth fighter—could become a global competitor.

India had no option but to rely on Rafale jets from France to maintain its aerial superiority while continuing indigenous development.

4. Kaveri Engine – The Game Changer

Despite early setbacks, India didn’t give up on Kaveri. It collaborated with Russia to test and validate its Kaveri supersonic jet engine, and in 2025, India finally announced that it was ready to fly its own fighter jets entirely made in India, including the engine. This was a monumental achievement—not just in terms of self-reliance, but also in strategic independence. India was no longer dependent on the West for critical components.

5. China’s Miscalculation: Arrogance Over Experience

In contrast, China refused to buy proven technology from anyone. Driven by nationalistic pride, it chose to build its entire military ecosystem internally. While that may sound admirable, the biggest problem was this: Chinese weapons were never tested in actual wars.

Their defence technology remained lab-tested but battlefield-untested—and that made all the difference in 2025.

 

Amidst this high-stakes technological warfare, India emerged as the undisputed victor—not just on the battlefield, but in the strategic domain of defence innovation. India’s systems worked. Its missiles hit their intended targets, its air defence shield intercepted nearly every incoming threat, and its indigenously developed platforms stood the test of real war. For India, this wasn’t just a military triumph—it was a declaration of technological maturity.

China, meanwhile, walked away with data. Although it failed to protect Pakistan or prove the superiority of its own weapons in real time, the war gave China something it desperately needed: combat analytics. From drone failures to missile misfires, every shortcoming observed became valuable feedback for Chinese defence R&D. In essence, China used this war not to win—but to learn.

But the real tragedy of this experiment was Pakistan. Desperate to maintain geopolitical relevance and obsessed with countering India by any means necessary, Pakistan allowed itself to become a guinea pig—a testbed for Chinese and Turkish military hardware. What it got in return was devastation, diplomatic isolation, and an embarrassing exposure of its vulnerability. It bore the brunt of a war it neither controlled nor understood.

Pakistan became the lab rat in someone else’s laboratory, paying the price in blood, sovereignty, and global credibility—while others ran simulations and collected data.