By Dr Ikram ul Haq and Engineer Arshad H Abbasi
As chess players, we’ve trained ourselves for years to evaluate not only the immediate but also the eventual—thinking several moves ahead, reading the board for hidden motives, weighing consequences, and anticipating sacrifices that don’t always yield immediate gain. Chess teaches patience, perspective, and the wisdom to resist flashy moves that risk the entire endgame. And so, with that mindset, we approach the tragic events of 2023—not from a place of ideology or political alignment, but with the quiet clarity and discipline that comes from long hours in front of the 64 squares. For when you look at world affairs with the eyes of a chess player, a disturbing pattern begins to emerge—one that connects pieces often ignored by politicians, media, and even diplomats.
At the center of this tragedy lies a profound miscalculation: the India–Middle East–Europe Economic Corridor, or IMEEC on 9 September 2023, a project heralded as a diplomatic triumph, but which, when examined with strategic scrutiny, reveals itself to be one of the most ill-conceived initiatives of the modern era—a corridor whose flawed conception and rushed execution helped ignite a chain reaction that culminated in the horrific events of the just after month of announcement OF IMEEC on 7 October 2023 Gaza War.
What is especially tragic is that IMEEC was marketed not merely as an economic project, but as a peace-building, connectivity-enhancing mechanism meant to transform the region. But just as in chess, not every move that looks promising on paper translates well on the board. Under the glossy exterior of “multimodal connectivity” and “economic cooperation,” the corridor masked exclusion, provocation, and geostrategic ambition that latterly divided the Middle East.
While it was presented as an alternative to China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), it came at the expense of key regional actors—countries with blood-stained histories, fragile fault lines, and a desperate need for inclusion, not marginalization. And it is in this exclusion, this silent act of geopolitical arrogance, that we locate the ignition point of a broader conflict that took the world to the edge of global war.
India’s alignment with Israel through IMEEC was not simply diplomatic—it was strategic, financial, and deeply provocative. With Indian conglomerates like the Adani Group investing heavily in Israel’s Haifa port, India planted its economic flag in one of the most contested and volatile regions in the world.
The significance of this move wasn’t lost on those paying attention. Haifa, once a commercial hub touted as a safe bet for global investors, was suddenly reimagined as the beating heart of a corridor that would bypass the Suez Canal, sideline traditional players like Egypt, Turkey, Qatar and Iran, and route trade through the territories of a few favored allies.
In doing so, it did not just redraw trade routes—it redrew battle lines. The corridor’s design and execution sent an unmistakable message: that certain players were disposable, and certain unresolved conflicts—especially that of Gaza and the Palestinian people—could be glossed over in the name of logistics and railways. What India and its allies failed to grasp was that ignoring pieces on the board never makes them disappear. The Gaza Strip and Hamas were treated as irrelevant—collateral to an ambitious plan whose architects believed they had secured enough regional consensus to proceed. But as chess players know, even a pawn can deliver a devastating checkmate if left unchecked.
On October 7, 2023, just after one month of the announcement of IMEEC, the illusion shattered. Gaza erupted, and with it, the entire geopolitical scaffolding that IMEEC had tried to build came tumbling down. Haifa was no longer safe. The promise of peaceful trade was buried under rubble and blood. And those who had endorsed IMEEC were forced to reckon with the reality that peace cannot be bypassed, and inclusion cannot be faked. The exclusion of Egypt, Oman, Iran, Qatar and Turkey from the IMEEC blueprint wasn’t just tactically flawed—it was a diplomatic insult. Egypt, a historical anchor of Arab identity and owner of the Suez Canal, stood to lose billions annually from a corridor designed specifically to bypass its critical waterway.
In 2022–23, the Suez Canal generated a record $9.4 billion in revenue. IMEEC, if fully realised, would decimate this revenue stream, destabilising an already fragile Egyptian economy and further marginalizing a key player in Middle Eastern diplomacy. We are neither saints nor magicians, but we can clearly sense how Egypt might respond to this disastrous decision—launching IMEEC is nothing short of a death sentence for an already struggling Egyptian economy
How could such a fundamental actor be ignored without expecting geopolitical repercussions? Similarly, Turkey—a NATO member and a key bridge between East and West—was sidelined despite its substantial investments in rail connectivity, such as the Istanbul–Kapıkule high-speed rail project, which is expected to be operational by late 2025. This corridor, by virtue of geography and infrastructure, could have been a natural inclusion, yet was omitted in favour of a convoluted route that stretched through politically unstable territory, all for the sake of excluding rivals and rewarding allies.
India’s motives in pursuing IMEEC appear, upon closer inspection, less about trade and more about geopolitical positioning. Delhi sought to anchor itself as a central node in a Westward economic network, positioning Haifa as the new gateway to Europe, and thus controlling both narrative and flow. This was not a corridor of peace—it was a corridor of control. And control, when exercised without inclusion, always provokes backlash.
Had India truly intended to foster regional development, it had far more logical options at hand. Existing railways between Pakistan and India, such as the Lahore–Attari and Munabao–Khokhrapar lines, could have been reactivated and integrated into the Islamabad–Tehran–Istanbul corridor, creating a seamless trade route through Iran and Turkey—countries with deep historical and economic ties to the region. But this route would have required collaboration with Pakistan and Iran—two nations India has long treated with mistrust or hostility. And so, in pursuit of a politically cleansed trade vision, India abandoned the shortest, most viable route and instead opted for a provocative, exclusionary design that inflamed regional fault lines.
China, watching from afar, played its hand subtly but shrewdly. By expressing sympathies for Palestine during the crisis, Beijing positioned itself as a moral counter to the IMEEC bloc, all while strengthening its own Belt and Road Initiative in Africa and Central Asia.
It appears that the architects of the IMEEC may have exhibited a marked obliviousness to the existence of the China-Europe Railway Express—an expansive transcontinental rail network inaugurated in 2011. As of July 2025, this logistical artery has completed over 110,000 transits, firmly establishing itself as a pivotal conduit between Asia and Europe. Spanning 229 cities across 26 European nations and over 100 urban centres in 11 Asian countries, the China-Europe Railway Express indisputably constitutes a cardinal force in the facilitation of Eurasian commerce.
Meanwhile, Egypt—cut out of the economic rewards—held control of the Rafah crossing and had little incentive to cooperate with Israel’s bombardment of Gaza. Oman, a longstanding and trusted Indian partner with strategic ports that could have streamlined the corridor, was also ignored, its exclusion symptomatic of a corridor driven not by pragmatism, but by pride.
As Pakistani thinkers and citizens—one of us an economist, the other an engineer—we watched with growing anguish as our own nation was not only ignored but humiliated in the process. The name “Road to Makkah” evokes dreams of physical connectivity, perhaps a railway or a road linking Pakistan directly to the holy land. Instead, it turned out to be no more than a bureaucratic facility allowing Pakistani Hajj pilgrims to clear Saudi immigration and customs at Islamabad and Karachi airports. A procedural convenience—nothing more. Yet, tragically, even this was hailed by short-sighted elements in the government of Pakistan as a grand achievement. Over 250 million Pakistanis were offered a symbolic lollipop and told to be satisfied, while the true prize—meaningful inclusion in IMEEC—was handed to others.
We feel a collective heartbreak, shared by the entire Pakistani nation, which has always considered Saudi Arabia not just a friend, but an extension of their spiritual identity. Unlike other countries, where religious connections are abstract, Pakistanis—regardless of sect—view the land of Makkah and Madinah with a love deeper than for their offspring, more valuable than wealth or life itself. The Kaaba and the Prophet’s Mosque are not distant symbols; they are the beating heart of our faith.
Yet in return for this unwavering love, loyalty, and even readiness to sacrifice blood, Pakistan is continuously sidelined. Saudi Arabia’s leadership seems to rely on clerics—many of whom are controversial and disconnected from the people—to represent our bond. This misrepresentation has cost us dearly. Pakistanis have, time and again, looked past these sectarian filters, choosing instead to uphold unity in reverence for the holy land. But now, even that patience feels betrayed.
What is most painful is Saudi Arabia’s key involvement in IMEEC—a project that includes India but excludes Pakistan entirely. A true strategic vision would have connected India, Pakistan, and Iran to Oman and then to Saudi Arabia via a mere 33-kilometre bridge. A bridge China could build with ease—after all, it has already built the 164.8 km Danyang–Kunshan Grand Bridge, the longest in the world. Why was this not considered? Why was Pakistan—Saudi Arabia’s most loyal and passionate ally—ignored in favor of those whose history with the region is transactional at best?
The answer, we fear, lies in a dangerous misreading of loyalty and a shallow understanding of strategy. Pakistan has stood by Saudi Arabia like no other nation. It’s 250 million citizens form a spiritual and emotional shield around the Holy Places. Yet that bond is now reduced to a fast-track airport lane and a ceremonial handshake.
It is with sorrow that we reflect on Saudi Arabia’s path—pouring vast resources into military power instead of embodying the sanctity of a model like the Vatican City State. Had we stood as advisors to the Kingdom, we would have urged the House of Saud to embrace the role of a spiritual sanctuary, not a geopolitical actor. Muslims across the globe, especially 250 million Pakistanis, would lay down their lives to defend the 2,150,000 km² of this sacred land—not for its arms, but for its holy legacy.
Though we cannot advise the House of Saud directly, we can humbly suggest that Saudi Arabia rise as a global symbol of holiness, apart from the games of power. It pains us to witness the Kingdom as the fifth-largest military spender in 2025, first in the Arab world, with a projected $78 billion defence budget—21% of national spending and 7.1% of GDP. This immense wealth, we believe, should uplift the Ummah through education and the founding of scientific and engineering institutions across the world. Those who glorify militarism in the name of Saudi Arabia betray the sacred trust of the Muslim world. These lands hold our holiest places—they deserve peace, not pride.
We mourn not only the missed economic opportunities but the diminishing recognition of a sacred relationship. If Saudi Arabia fails to see the strategic strength of its most faithful ally, and instead lends its hand to those who have no historical, emotional, or spiritual connection, then the loss is not just ours—it is a loss for the region and peace.
In chess, you cannot afford to alienate your own pieces. You must build cohesion, maintain structure, and above all, think long term. But IMEEC, from its inception, has been marked by tactical blunders disguised as strategic foresight. Its very structure breeds conflict, not commerce.
Within weeks of its announcement, war broke out. Over 70,000 Palestinians are now dead. Tens of thousands more are injured, displaced, or missing. Their lives are the true cost of this corridor—each one a casualty of a strategy that prioritized optics over outcomes, ambition over stability, and exclusivity over empathy. When future historians pen the truth or once classified records come to light, it will become clear that it was the IMEEC that sowed the seeds of division in the Middle East—and across the world,
The West—especially the United States and Europe—must accept its share of blame. By allowing India to shape the vision and trajectory of IMEEC, they outsourced diplomacy to a country with a long history of regional mistrust. Delhi’s inability to even maintain peace with its neighbors should have raised alarms. Instead, Washington and Brussels allowed themselves to be seduced by a vision of a “new Silk Road”—blind to the fault lines beneath the surface.
The result is now plain to see: a Middle East more fractured than ever, a global order teetering on the brink, and a humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza that stains the conscience of every actor involved.
We write these words with profound sorrow, not hatred. We are not anti-India. We are not anti-Israel. We are not here to score political points. We are two ordinary citizens of Pakistan—products of logic, education, and a culture that values peace. But we cannot remain silent when regional peace is sacrificed at the altar of vanity. IMEEC was never about connection. It was about dominance. And dominance, no matter how well-dressed, always ends in destruction.
Had IMEEC been designed with inclusion at its core—had it involved Egypt, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, and Oman as equal stakeholders—it might have become a true beacon of regional cooperation. Instead, it became a fault line. A line that divides not just geography, but humanity itself. And for that, we grieve.
History, like chess, is unforgiving. It does not excuse miscalculations simply because they were well-intentioned. The world now has a choice: to double down on this flawed project, or to pause, reflect, and rebuild—not roads or railways, but trust, understanding, and unity. For until we recognize that peace is not a byproduct of trade—but its precondition—we will continue to repeat these tragedies, again and again, at ever greater cost.
May the next move on the global board be made with humility, foresight, and the wisdom that only comes from understanding every piece—not just the ones that serve our ambition. Let IMEEC be remembered not as a triumph, but as a lesson. A warning. A call to choose peace over provocation before the board is overturned for good.
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Dr. Ikramul Haq, Advocate Supreme Court, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds LLD in tax laws. He was full-time journalist from 1979 to 1984 with Viewpoint and Dawn. He also served Civil Services of Pakistan from 1984 to 1996.
Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi is Co-founder of Energy Excellence Centres at NUST and UET Peshawar