From Faith to Fallout: The Kirana Hills and Pakistan’s Quest for the Islamic Bomb

Introduction: Obsession Born of Insecurity

Pakistan’s nuclear journey did not begin with science it began with defeat. The loss of East Pakistan in 1971 wasn’t just a territorial fracture; it was a psychological rupture. Humiliated and paranoid, the Pakistani establishment turned to nuclear weapons not as a strategic tool, but as a symbol of national resurrection. The pursuit of the bomb became an existential project an antidote to military inferiority and a way to regain parity with a rising India. While India saw nuclear power as an extension of sovereignty and scientific autonomy, Pakistan saw it as a way to project power without reforming its fractured institutions. Insecurity, rather than insight, became the driving force.

The state’s obsession with nuclearization unfolded not in laboratories, but in backrooms, bazaars, and black markets. Scientific advancement was intertwined with military opacity. And as Pakistan climbed the nuclear ladder, it did so leaning heavily on foreign scaffolding Chinese blueprints, Western technology, and Gulf-based transshipment hubs. What followed wasn’t a journey of disciplined strategic deterrence, but one of dangerous improvisation where secrecy trumped accountability, and proliferation became not a threat to avoid but an asset to exploit.

India’s nuclear program, shaped by the trauma of 1962 and driven by a need for scientific advancement and strategic autonomy, stood in stark contrast to Pakistan’s reactive, paranoia-driven pursuit. The 1971 creation of Bangladesh shattered Pakistan’s illusion of parity with India. Rather than introspection or reform, Islamabad turned to the atom. It was not strategy it was in security masquerading as deterrence

The Bhuttos and the Cult of the Islamic Bomb

Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s nuclear ambition was born not of military strategy, but of political defiance, wrapped in ideological fervor. His infamous declaration “We will eat grass, even go hungry, but we will get one of our own” was not mere rhetoric; it became a national directive. Bhutto envisioned the bomb not just as a weapon, but as a symbol of Islamic empowerment. He famously proposed the idea of an "Islamic Bomb" a notion that transcended Pakistan’s borders and aimed to rally Muslim nations under a shared nuclear identity.

In 1972, mere months after Pakistan’s defeat in the Bangladesh War, Bhutto convened the Multan Conference, bringing together top scientists to launch the country’s nuclear program. This was not a consultative dialogue; it was a command. Within months, Pakistan’s nuclear establishment was formalized under military oversight, with the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission (PAEC) given direct marching orders. Bhutto’s belief in nuclear deterrence wasn’t rooted in technical comprehension it was political desperation painted as national pride.

His vision was then inherited though not entirely understood by his daughter, Benazir Bhutto, who returned to Pakistan in 1986 and later served as Prime Minister. Despite holding the highest civilian office, Benazir was kept in the dark about the full extent of Pakistan’s nuclear readiness. Her authority was subordinated to the military-intelligence establishment, which viewed the bomb as its exclusive domain. It wasn’t until a conversation with U.S. diplomats in the late 1980s that she learned her country had crossed the nuclear threshold.

Even more dangerously, her Army Chief, General Mirza Aslam Beg, sought to export nuclear technology to Iran in return for strategic and financial support. According to U.S. intelligence and Pakistani insiders, Beg proposed a quid pro quo where Iran would fund Pakistan’s military debt in exchange for nuclear know-how. That such a proposal could be made without civilian oversight highlights the alarming autonomy of Pakistan’s military-industrial complex.

Zulfikar’s cult of nuclear nationalism, laced with Islamic populism, created a program that served political symbolism more than strategic purpose. In the hands of his successors civilian and military alike it evolved into an opaque, dangerously autonomous force, divorced from democratic accountability or doctrinal coherence. When U.S. officials revealed the extent of Pakistan’s bomb-ready status to her in 1986, it came as a revelation. Her army chief, Gen. Mirza Aslam Beg, had even tried to barter nuclear secrets with Iran for debt relief. Such recklessness underscores how dangerously unaccountable the Pakistani nuclear command structure had become.

Enablers of Proliferation: How Global Powers Helped Pakistan Build the Bomb

The West’s selective outrage over nuclear proliferation is best exemplified by its tolerance of Pakistan’s nuclear skulduggery. Throughout the 1980s, Reagan’s administration funnelled aid and advanced equipment to Islamabad, conveniently ignoring Pakistan’s violations as long as it helped bleed the Soviets in Afghanistan. Pakistan was lavished with billions in military aid and $800 million worth of dual-use equipment, none of which including $250 million worth of advanced computers was reviewed by the Pentagon’s Defence Trade Security Administration. This included sensitive items such as oscilloscopes, zirconium, pressure-measuring systems, laser equipment, neutron generators, and telemetry systems for missiles. Congressional investigators later estimated that tens of millions of dollars’ worth of this technology were directly diverted to Pakistan’s nuclear weapons program a volume exceedingly even that of controversial exports to Iraq. U.S. officials, including Undersecretary of State James Buckley, publicly accepted Pakistani assurances of peaceful intent even as internal CIA reports and intelligence assets confirmed otherwise.

China played the most decisive foreign role in enabling Pakistan’s nuclear capability. In the 1980s, China did for Pakistan what the Soviet Union had once done for China supplied it with the core elements of a nuclear weapons program. Chinese assistance went far beyond diplomatic support; it included blueprints for nuclear weapon design, trigger mechanisms, weapon-grade uranium hexafluoride, and extensive training for Pakistani scientists. Chinese scientists visited Pakistan’s weapons design facility in Wah as early as 1982 or 1983, working directly with Pakistani teams to adapt and validate the design of China’s fourth nuclear weapon, tested in 1966 (the CHIC-4 device), which was also its first missile-compatible warhead. The design was modified to suit Pakistan’s delivery platforms, notably the F-16.

China provided enough uranium hexafluoride to jumpstart Pakistan’s centrifuge enrichment program a crucial input since Islamabad lacked the technology to produce its own feedstock. Moreover, Chinese nuclear technicians made multiple visits to Kahuta, Pakistan’s secret centrifuge facility, where they advised and guided local development. Hundreds of Pakistani scientists were invited to witness Chinese nuclear weapons tests throughout the 1980s, further enhancing Pakistan’s understanding of blast dynamics, yield calibration, and delivery mechanisms.

In 1993, China cemented this partnership by selling Pakistan a 300-megawatt power reactor at Chashma, even as Islamabad announced plans to expand its controversial enrichment facilities, ostensibly to fuel the new reactor though proliferation experts raised alarms over potential dual-use. China also facilitated Pakistan’s delivery systems. In exchange for $300 million in seed funding, China agreed to co-develop and build 25 M-11 ballistic missiles for Pakistan. Together, the two countries also developed the K-8 fighter-bomber, with the capacity to carry both conventional and non-conventional payloads, including chemical and biological munitions.

Germany, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom played more indirect but equally significant roles. Through Europe’s largely unregulated trade in dual-use technologies, Pakistani procurement networks especially those led by Dr. A.Q. Khan acquired critical components for uranium enrichment and bomb development. Khan, who had stolen centrifuge blueprints while working at the Dutch nuclear firm Urenco, used a web of suppliers across Europe and the Middle East to source parts for his program. One longtime trading partner was Peter Griffin, a British engineer who supplied equipment to Pakistan for two decades reportedly with approvals from British trade authorities. German, Dutch, and French middlemen offered price lists and courted business with Khan’s network, while Dubai became the key transshipment and finance hub.

Khan’s procurement channels drew on company lists he obtained in Europe, and he later boasted of how foreign firms actively sought to do business with Pakistan’s nuclear program. Even Dutch authorities, despite awareness of Khan’s espionage, failed to clamp down decisively. American officials sent dozens of diplomatic warnings to Germany about lax export enforcement, but many were ignored. Pakistani scientists were even dispatched to Europe in the 1970s for further centrifuge training. Eventually, this vast procurement web became a reverse pipeline one used not just to acquire, but to export nuclear technology. According to Pakistani military sources, the same network enabled Dr. Khan and others to proliferate designs to countries like Libya, Iran, and North Korea.

All this occurred as the international non-proliferation regime looked the other way. Pakistan’s strategic utility as a bulwark against the USSR overrode any long-term assessment of what a nuclear-armed Pakistan could become. Unlike in Iraq, where suspicion led to pre-emptive containment, Pakistan was indulged and enabled even rewarded as it walked, and then crossed, the nuclear threshold. This blind-eye policy, rooted in Cold War calculations, allowed a fragile, radical-prone nation to reach nuclear status with diplomatic cover, foreign tools, and global complacency.

Kirana Hills: Where Shadows Forged the Bomb

The Kirana Hills, located near Sargodha in Punjab, are where Pakistan’s nuclear ambitions left the shadows of theory and took operational form. Unlike India’s transparent Pokhran testing grounds, Kirana was buried in a cloak of deception.

What Were Cold Tests?

Cold tests are simulations testing a nuclear device’s triggering mechanism without fissile material. Between 1983 and 1990, Pakistan carried out at least 24 such tests in tunnels bored into Kirana’s dark, isolated hills. These weren’t scientific milestones. They were covert military rehearsals, executed without civilian oversight. The first cold test on March 11, 1983, overseen by Dr. Ishfaq Ahmed and Dr. Samar Mubarakmand, was cloaked in extreme secrecy. The Special Development Works (SDW), a shadowy military-engineering outfit, prepared the tunnels. Ironically, wild boars occasionally disrupted operations a bizarre symbol of how nature itself rejected the intrusion.

The Wah Group, Pakistan’s nuclear assembly team, built the triggering systems using HMX explosives. The test cables initially failed due to poor wiring, but eventually confirmed a viable neutron trigger. This unaccountable triumph emboldened the military further.

Why Kirana Mattered More Than Chagai

Kirana’s legacy lies not just in its tests but in what it enabled miniaturized warheads that could be fitted onto aircraft like the F-16. Working with the Pakistan Air Force, these teams refined four aerial delivery techniques: free-fall, toss bombing, loft bombing, and laydown bombing. These methods weren't just tactical they were political signals. Pakistan wanted to project survivability, mobility, and deterrence, even if it lacked the robust second-strike capabilities India was developing under its more stable command system.

Kirana Hills: A Technical Profile

The Kirana Hills, located near Sargodha in Pakistan’s Punjab province, are geologically composed of black shale, slate, quartzite, and rhyolite an ideal configuration for tunnelling and underground nuclear experimentation. Their remote location, roughly 8 kilometres southeast of the strategic Sargodha Air Base, offered the dual benefits of physical seclusion and rapid military mobilization. This proximity enabled tight security, direct logistical support, and real-time testing collaborations with the Pakistan Air Force.

The Special Development Works (SDW), created under Brigadier Muhammad Sarfaraz at the behest of President Zia-ul-Haq, was the primary engineering unit entrusted with constructing and managing Pakistan’s nuclear test infrastructure. SDW was a militarized arm of the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission (PAEC), tasked with preparing test shafts and labs for both cold and laboratory testing.

From 1983 to 1990, Kirana hosted at least 24 cold tests, simulating nuclear detonation sequences without fissile material. Over two dozen horizontal tunnels typically 100–150 feet in length were carved into the hills. SDW also constructed 46 short tunnels, 35 underground troop shelters, and a host of command and diagnostic facilities. These were designed for quick deployment, capable of being activated within a week’s notice.

Notably, SDW designed tunnels not in straight lines, but in complex S-shaped or fishhook geometries, a crucial engineering innovation meant to ensure self-sealing post-detonation. Dr. Mansoor Beg, a leading figure in the tunnel design process, explained that these geometries allowed the immense pressure from the blast to collapse the tunnel inward, containing radiation and preventing escape through the entrance.

The Wah Group, Pakistan’s bomb assembly team, used indigenously developed HMX explosives, while oscillators and diagnostic systems monitored the simulated triggers. These covert military rehearsals often conducted at night tested both the durability and the performance of nuclear devices without detection by satellites or spies. In 1988, PAEC began formal development of a deliverable warhead. The National Development Complex (NDC) and Air Weapons Complex (AWC) were created to support this phase. The NDC was responsible for warhead integration with PAF aircraft, and AWC refined aerodynamic performance. According to Dr. Samar Mubarakmand, nuclear bombs needed to withstand vibration, radar detection, and various environmental stresses transforming from a theoretical construct into a reliable weapon.

Under Dr. Masud Ahmad, the PAEC’s R Block team miniaturized the bomb from 500 kg to just 220 kg, enabling aircraft-based delivery. Devices were transported in sealed trucks from R Block to Sargodha Air Base, often under complete blackout. F-16s waited on the tarmac one to carry the weapon, the other to record its drop executed with absolute secrecy to avoid satellite surveillance. Kirana thus became the crucible where both scientific design and operational deployment were perfected. Pakistan’s air-based nuclear delivery capabilities including free-fall, toss, loft, and laydown techniques were rehearsed here.

By the 1990s, increased U.S. satellite surveillance forced Pakistan to abandon the site for cold testing. But intelligence reports and open-source imagery suggest Kirana evolved into a fortified nuclear warhead and missile storage zone, possibly housing Chinese M-11 missiles in over 10 underground tunnels. In May 2025, during India’s Operation Sindoor, rumors resurfaced of surveillance or potential targeting of Kirana Hills. The Indian Air Force denied involvement, yet chatter of radiation leaks, U.S. reconnaissance flights, and emergency protocols at Sargodha underscored the site’s continued strategic sensitivity. Kirana today remains a relic wrapped in active potential a shadowy node in Pakistan’s nuclear web, where past ambition meets present volatility. It serves as a warning: that a state which has historically substituted secrecy for structure, and provocation for policy, may still be housing strategic dangers in a fragile shell of denial and deflection.

Pokhran’s Message and Pakistan’s Reaction

When India conducted its five nuclear tests in May 1998, it did so in full view of the world under civilian leadership, with parliamentary debate, strategic intent, and doctrinal clarity. Pakistan, in contrast, responded not with policy, but with panic, secrecy, and haphazard institutional competition.

On May 15, 1998, Pakistan’s Defence Committee of the Cabinet (DCC) convened in Islamabad. While Finance Minister Sartaj Aziz raised concerns over the fragile economy and looming sanctions, others including the military brass pushed for an immediate retaliatory test. Notably, PAEC and KRL, Pakistan’s two nuclear institutions, lobbied aggressively for the right to conduct the test, exposing internal turf wars and the fractured nature of Pakistan’s nuclear governance.

At that point, Dr. Ishfaq Ahmed, Chairman of the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission (PAEC), was still abroad on an official trip. On May 16, he was urgently recalled and reached Islamabad. By the morning of May 17, GHQ contacted him to remain on standby. Later that day, accompanied by Dr. Samar Mubarakmand, he met with Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, who expressed concern that failure to test would damage Pakistan’s nuclear credibility. Dr. Ishfaq replied: “Mr. Prime Minister, take a decision and, Insha’Allah, I give you the guarantee of success.”

Though the DCC’s May 15 meeting remained inconclusive, it is believed a smaller, unofficial meeting with the Prime Minister, Finance Minister, Foreign Minister, and the three Service Chiefs occurred on May 16 or 17, where the final decision was made. Since Pakistan’s National Command Authority (NCA) didn’t exist at the time, only the DCC could have authorized such an action.

On May 18, 1998, Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif summoned Dr. Ishfaq again and issued the go-ahead. The instruction was blunt and unambiguous: “Dhamaka kar dein” (“Conduct the explosion”). Orders were immediately relayed across Pakistan’s military and logistical chains: GHQ, Air Headquarters, 12 Corps in Quetta, Army Aviation Corps, and National Logistics Cell (NLC) began mobilizing.

The Civil Aviation Authority (CAA) tasked Pakistan International Airlines (PIA) with arranging a Boeing 737 at short notice to ferry scientists, engineers, and technicians to Balochistan. Behind the scenes, elite teams from the Wah Group, Theoretical Group, R Block, and the Directorate of Technical Development quietly assembled at staging areas. By May 28, five devices had been emplaced and sealed in the Ras Koh Hills of Chagai. A sixth test would follow in Kharan on May 30. Though the tests were real, the strategy was reactive, fragmented, and lacked any coherent doctrinemerely a desperate response to India’s calibrated Pokhran success.

The Black Market Republic: How Pakistan Monetized the Bomb

By the late 1980s, Pakistan’s nuclear ambition had morphed from self-preservation to proliferation-for-profit. Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan, the architect of Pakistan’s uranium enrichment program, became the lynchpin of a black-market network that sold nuclear technology to the highest bidder. According to investigators, Dr. Khan was motivated by three things: defiance against the West, pan-Islamic solidarity, and financial gain. “Giving nuclear technology to a Muslim country was not a crime,” he reportedly told a senior Pakistani politician. But as his prestige grew, so did his personal wealth he acquired properties, businesses, and even a hotel in Africa. Khan often treated centrifuge blueprints as personal assets rather than national secrets.

His network began by ordering more parts than needed under legitimate procurement anomalies first noticed by Western intelligence in the 1980s. These 'extra' components were routed to clients like Iran, which sought 50,000 P-1 centrifuges to fuel a future arsenal of 30 nuclear weapons annually. Discontented with receiving outdated Pakistani gear, Iran still considered it a starting point. Using government logistics including military aircraft Dr. AQ Khan moved parts via third-party middlemen. The same routes that had once smuggled technology into Pakistan now served to export it. Eventually, Pakistan appeared to receive no benefit at all as Khan’s personal empire expanded beyond state interests.

Libya, under Muammar Gaddafi, became Khan’s most ambitious customer. Initially offered older P-1 centrifuges, Tripoli later sought the more advanced P-2 design, capable of doubling enrichment efficiency. This complex operation involved global actors: Sri Lankan businessman B.S.A. Tahir in Dubai, Peter Griffin, a longtime British supplier, and Malaysian firm Scomi Precision Engineering, which manufactured thousands of centrifuge components under cover.

Blueprints, parts, and training were all included some shipments intercepted en route, like the famous seizure aboard the BBC China in 2003. Investigators later found that Khan’s network had even provided a complete nuclear bomb design to Libya. The sheer scope and brazenness of this network shocked even seasoned intelligence professionals. Nuclear proliferation was no longer a state-to-state transfer; it had gone private, entrepreneurial, and dangerously unaccountable.

Conclusion: A Bomb Without a Doctrine

India’s nuclear policy rests on a clear doctrine: No First Use, civilian control, and strategic transparency. Crafted with a view to ensure responsible deterrence, India’s nuclear posture is rooted in restraint, reinforced by institutional checks, and overseen by democratic structures. New Delhi has consistently upheld this framework even amid provocation demonstrating strategic maturity and the importance it places on non-proliferation norms. Pakistan’s nuclear stance, in contrast, remains devoid of any formally declared doctrine. Instead, it relies on deliberate ambiguity, military supremacy, and political volatility. While India’s doctrine is designed to deter, Pakistan’s posture increasingly appears designed to threaten.

Pakistani politicians and military figures have, time and again, resorted to open nuclear sabre-rattling. From veiled threats on television to direct statements in parliamentary debates, the pattern is unmistakable. In 2016, Pakistan’s then Defence Minister Khawaja Asif warned that Pakistan could use tactical nuclear weapons in a conventional conflict with India. In 2019, Prime Minister Imran Khan declared that if war broke out, it would “have consequences beyond borders,” an unsubtle reference to nuclear escalation. In 2022, Interior Minister Rana Sanaullah went so far as to say that Pakistan could consider using nukes if its “survival is at stake.” These statements, often made without strategic assessment or accountability, reveal the fragile control structures around Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal. While India uses its deterrent as an insurance policy, Pakistan seems to use it as a diplomatic crutch, invoking nuclear rhetoric to shield itself from conventional inferiority and international scrutiny.

What further distinguishes Pakistan’s nuclear rhetoric is its invocation of Islamic symbolism to legitimize and promote the bomb. The notion of an "Islamic Bomb" originally proposed by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and later echoed by military figures frames Pakistan’s nuclear capability as not just a national asset, but as a weapon in defence of the wider Muslim world. This ideological dressing has been used both to rally domestic support and to signal solidarity with Muslim-majority nations, notably Iran and Libya, who were recipients of nuclear assistance via the A.Q. Khan network. Such religious framing is deeply problematic. It turns a national security asset into a theological totem, creating an emotional justification for nuclear brinkmanship. By fusing religious identity with strategic assets, Pakistan risks turning nuclear deterrence into a moral crusade one that could inflame passions and cloud rational decision-making.

This culture of recklessness combined with opaque military control and the historical legacy of proliferation makes Pakistan’s nuclear posture one of the most dangerous in the world. Unlike India, where the nuclear command structure is civilian-led and doctrine-driven, Pakistan’s arsenal remains a militarized asset, subject to the whims of generals and politicians looking to score domestic or regional points. The danger is not just in the weapons, but in the mindset that governs them. A mindset where deterrence blurs into blackmail. Where secrecy replaces strategy. Where religion overlays geopolitics. And where nuclear capability is flaunted, not safeguarded.

It is not merely a bomb without a doctrine it is a doctrine of denial, dangerously masquerading as deterrence. Pakistan’s program, by contrast, is defined by secrecy, military dominance, and erratic signaling. The Kirana Hills hidden, hardened, and haunted by history are a stark reminder that nuclear weapons in irresponsible hands pose dangers far beyond deterrence.

What began as a reaction to India has now mutated into a permanent insecurity complex. And in that lies the greatest danger not that Pakistan has the bomb, but that it believes the bomb is a substitute for stability, development, and genuine strategic thinking. And in that lies the greatest danger not that Pakistan has the bomb, but that it believes the bomb is a substitute for stability, development, and genuine strategic thinking.

References:
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