When foreign secretary David Lammy touched down in Pakistan last week, his visit was more than just a diplomatic routine. It marked Britain’s uneasy re-entry into the turbulence of its imperial past.
The visit came just days after India and Pakistan, two nuclear-armed nations representing one-fifth of the world’s population, found themselves locked in yet another dangerous military exchange.
Though U.S. president Donald Trump was quick to claim credit for brokering a ceasefire, the uneasy calm masks deeper, unresolved wounds.
With Kashmir again at the centre of violence and missile strikes exchanged across the Line of Control, many are asking: Is Britain partly to blame for the hostility that refuses to die down?
Legacy of partition
When Britain exited the Indian subcontinent in 1947, it left behind two hastily formed nations and a bloody legacy. The infamous Radcliffe Line, drawn by a British lawyer with no prior experience in South Asia, cleaved communities, triggered mass displacement, and sowed seeds of distrust.
One of the most enduring and volatile consequences of this rushed partition was the dispute over Kashmir. Yet many Britons today know little about the history and human cost of colonisation.
The English education system often omits the darker chapters of Empire, glossing over the bloodshed in South Asia and the Middle East in favour of nostalgic references to the so-called “glory” of the British Empire.
This selective memory serves no one, least of all the communities still dealing with the fallout. Since 1947, India and Pakistan have fought at least four wars, with Kashmir at the core of nearly every conflict.
Each new flare-up, like the one this past week, carries echoes of that unfinished business. This is not just history repeating itself, it’s a history Britain helped write.
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Kashmir’s latest spark
The current crisis began with a terrorist attack in Pahalgam, a scenic valley in Indian-administered Kashmir. India blamed Pakistan-based militant groups for the violence, a familiar accusation, and responded with targeted missile strikes on nine locations in Pakistan.
While New Delhi claimed the sites were militant hideouts, Pakistani authorities reported the deaths of at least 27 civilians, including women and children. Pakistan swiftly retaliated.
What followed was a rapid military escalation involving the latest weaponry from both sides: Indian Rafale jets, reportedly shot down by Pakistan’s Chinese-built J-10s; Israeli Heron drones deployed by India; and precision strikes on air defense systems.
While India denies losing any Rafales, French media corroborated the downing, with notable market reactions strengthening the claim.
This conflict was not just a skirmish between neighbours. It was a live-fire demonstration of Western and Chinese military tech, a proxy test of global power alignments. And yet, the root cause remains tragically unchanged: Kashmir.
India, under Narendra Modi’s BJP government, has refused any third-party engagement, insisting the Kashmir issue is a purely internal matter. This view flatly contradicts the 1948 UN resolution, in which India agreed to a plebiscite in Kashmir, a promise that remains unfulfilled.
India has also learned to exploit the Islamophobia prevalent in parts of the West, framing the Kashmiri struggle purely through the lens of Islamist extremism, rather than acknowledging the legitimate political and humanitarian concerns of the region’s people.
Water: Another imperial fault line
Adding another layer of danger is the growing dispute over water.
In the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack, India unilaterally suspended the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), a decades-old agreement brokered by the World Bank in the 1960s.
The IWT was meant to separate “functional” water-sharing from “political” tensions. But Kashmir, through which these rivers flow, remains the political elephant in the room.
Without resolving Kashmir, no treaty can hold forever. The collapse of the IWT signals not just a technical failure, but a profound breakdown in trust.
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Empire’s shadow on British streets
The India-Pakistan rivalry is no longer confined to South Asia. It spills onto Britain’s streets, fueled by one of the largest South Asian diasporas in the world, making up over 5% of the UK population.
But the divisions within the diaspora and British politics go deeper than ethnicity or religion. They are entangled with political appeasement and vote-bank calculations.
Successive UK governments have either pandered to, or ignored, South Asian communities based on short-term electoral math, further entrenching these divides.
Recent weeks saw opposing diaspora groups protesting outside High Commissions in London. Arrests were made. Diplomats exchanged sharp words and undiplomatic gestures.
Even celebrities and MPs took sides. Former prime minister Rishi Sunak, of Indian descent, supported India, reflecting both personal heritage and a political affinity with the BJP’s agenda.
Priti Patel echoed similar views. Meanwhile, MPs of Pakistani and Kashmiri heritage rallied behind Pakistan’s stance, calling for justice and accountability.
Yet, amid the polarisation, a flicker of hope emerged: a peaceful unity march by South Asians outside parliament, demanding de-escalation and dialogue. These communities, born from colonial lines, now have the power to challenge them.
Diplomatic reckoning
Foreign secretary Lammy, a second-generation child of the Empire who oversees MI6, brings both symbolism and substance to his role.
Pakistan welcomed his visit as a sign of engagement. India, on the other hand, gave him the cold shoulder, in line with its hardened stance on Kashmir and reluctance to entertain any foreign mediation.
But behind closed doors, diplomacy is moving at another level. Pakistan appointed its powerful ISI chief General Asim Malik as National Security Adviser during the conflict, a move reportedly influenced by his backchannel ties with both CIA director William Burns and Indian NSA Ajit Doval, himself a former spymaster.
Britain, not to be left out, has its own spy master at the helm, Lammy, and may now be joining the quiet, shadowy diplomacy of the world’s top spooks. These backchannels, though murky, are often where real deals are made and where past insurgencies have also been fueled.
Britain has deep defence and intelligence links with Pakistan, and robust business and cultural ties with India. It is perhaps the only country positioned to speak plainly to both sides and to push India to accept that unresolved issues still exist.
These cannot be erased by airstrikes or slogans. They must be resolved at the negotiation table, not the battleground.
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Can Britain rewrite its role?
The broader question isn’t whether Britain caused every conflict between India and Pakistan, but whether it created the conditions that now make peace so elusive.
From the Balfour Declaration in the Middle East to the Radcliffe Line in South Asia, the end of empire has often meant the beginning of chaos.
But history doesn’t have to be destiny. Britain now has an opportunity and a responsibility to help resolve the crises it once helped create.
That means owning up to its imperial past, not whitewashing it in textbooks. It means backing multilateral dialogue on Kashmir, not ducking behind neutrality.
And it means recognising that the legacy of partition still reverberates not just in South Asia, but in the streets of London, Birmingham, and Leicester.
The missiles may have stopped for now. But the anger, distrust, and pain remain.
Until the questions Britain left unanswered in 1947 are addressed with courage and clarity, the shadow of Empire will continue to loom over South Asia, and over Britain itself.
