Why the Pakistan–Libya defence pact could be a strategic disaster for Libya

Libya’s announcement earlier this month that it is entering a US$4.6 billion defence pact with Pakistan has been portrayed in some quarters as a bold strategic move, a chance to rebuild fractured military capability after more than a decade of civil conflict and instability. Yet beneath the polished rhetoric lies a far more worrying reality: this deal risks entangling Libya with one of the least dependable and most troubled militaries in the world, a partner whose own systemic failures could turn Libya’s fragile security gains into even deeper vulnerabilities.

At first glance, Pakistan may seem an attractive partner for Libya, a fellow Muslim-majority state offering to supply jets, armoured vehicles, training, and institutional support without the political strings that come with Western or Russian arms. But this surface appeal collapses under scrutiny when Pakistan’s chronic domestic weakness and overblown defence reputation are taken into account.

For decades, Pakistan has projected an image of military prowess that far exceeds its actual performance or reliability. The country spends heavily on defence, sustains large armed forces, and maintains nuclear weapons, but the substance behind those displays has repeatedly fallen short. Rather than being a guarantee of strength, Pakistan’s statement of intent often masks deeper structural problems: underfunded logistics for actual operational readiness, corruption in procurement, and a military establishment that has prioritized prestige projects over meaningful capability. These are hardly the traits a war-torn, rebuilding Libya needs in a defence partner.

The reported Libya–Pakistan agreement, which includes major platforms like JF-17 fighter jets and institutional training ties, is structured as what Pakistan calls a “turnkey package” promising to deliver equipment, training, and sustainment. But history suggests that such promises are rarely fulfilled smoothly by Islamabad. Pakistan’s defence industry, heavily reliant on Chinese imports and constrained by severe economic stress at home, often fails to meet even its own needs first, let alone sustain long-term export commitments.

Indeed, Pakistan itself struggles with a complex web of internal security challenges, from persistent terrorism and insurgency in its tribal regions, to economic crises and political instability that have hollowed out civilian institutions. Its army, while tactically experienced in some counterinsurgency scenarios, has laboured under chronic logistical strain, outdated equipment, and resource limitations that belie the martial mythology perpetuated by Islamabad’s propaganda. Libya, signing up for long-term dependency on such a partner, risks investing heavily in capabilities that might never materialize as promised or prove incapable of integration into Libya’s operational needs.

Worse still, this deal appears to align Libya, unintentionally with Pakistan’s own geostrategic headaches. Islamabad’s foreign policy is often driven less by coherent strategic vision than by short-term calculations rooted in ideology and domestic political narratives. Pakistan has cultivated relationships with a wide range of actors, from Beijing to Tehran, and its shifting diplomatic posture has sometimes left its military exports and alliances stranded when global winds change. Libya, already mired in political bifurcation between rival centres of power and under constant scrutiny from the United Nations and international actors, should be wary of tying itself to a partner whose geopolitical credibility is weak at best and counterproductive at worst.

The sheer size of the pact, nearly US$4.6 billion also raises red flags. For a country like Libya, still struggling to restore basic governance and security structures, dedicating scarce national resources to a sprawling defence package with an untested supplier is a gamble of monumental proportions. Past experience with Pakistan’s defence exports in other contexts shows that cost overruns, delivery delays, and sub-optimal performance are commonplace. Libya cannot afford to channel capital into a relationship that may deliver little more than political theatre.

Beyond the economic calculus, there is also a significant political risk. Pakistan’s own relations with regional powers are fraught and unpredictable. Its oscillations between partnerships with Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Iran, and other states have at times isolated Islamabad on the global stage. Libya, already navigating a complicated regional security environment with actors like Turkey, Egypt, Russia, and the UAE exerting influence, does not need another unpredictable external patron. A defence pact with Pakistan may inadvertently alienate potential partners, complicate reconciliation efforts with factions inside Libya, and entrench external dependencies that undermine Libya’s sovereign decision-making.

Moreover, Pakistan’s defence doctrine historically emphasises strategic signalling rather than genuine capability building. Many of its defence export overtures, including this pact with Libya are designed as geopolitical statements rather than solid, deliverable, and sustainable military partnerships. Libya deserves allies that can provide not just weapons, but training, logistics, and long-term institutional support grounded in mutual trust and strategic clarity. Pakistan’s track record, riddled with unmet commitments and strategic flip-flops suggests it is incapable of providing that.

Ultimately, Libya’s leadership must ask whether this massive pact genuinely enhances Libya’s security or simply enmeshes its future with a partner whose own defence house is built on shaky foundations. A state that has historically struggled to translate military spending into effective defence capability, that chronically overpromises and underdelivers, and whose foreign policy is often reactive rather than strategic, cannot be the cornerstone of Libya’s ambition to rebuild a credible, stable armed force.

Libya’s defence needs are real and urgent. But the answer should not be found in grandiose pacts with unreliable partners. True security comes from investments that are sustainable, from alliances built on transparency and capability, and from a clear understanding of one’s own strategic imperatives, not from headline-grabbing contracts that leave a rebuilding nation more vulnerable, more indebted, and more dependent in the long run.