Writer: Mehrzaad Baluch
“The state’s refusal to return the bodies of fallen Baloch fighters aims to erase their sacrifice and silence their struggle. By denying families the chance to honor and celebrate their martyrs, the authorities hope to weaken the movement. But instead, this tactic strengthens their legacy, turning them into powerful symbols that continue to inspire resistance among the Baloch people.”
Across conflict zones and liberation movements, the decision by state forces to withhold the bodies of fallen fighters has become a deliberate, calculated tactic. Whether in Balochistan, Kashmir, Palestine, or Kurdistan, the refusal to return the bodies of fallen fighters or suspected militants is not a random or logistical issue. It is a deeply political and psychological act rooted in fear, propaganda, and an attempt to control the narrative of resistance.
In Balochistan, Pakistan’s evolving policy of secretly burying fallen fighters, withholding their bodies, denying families the right to proper funerals, and concealing the physical remains of those it labels as terrorists is part of a long-standing strategy aimed at erasing martyrdom and suppressing resistance. The refusal to return the bodies of BLA fighters after large-scale military operations like Ganjal and Dara-e-Bolan 2.0 underscores this intensifying approach.
While enforced disappearances have long been a hallmark of Pakistan’s repression in Balochistan, recent years have witnessed a troubling evolution in tactics.
The Shift in Pakistan’s Policy: From Enforced Disappearances to Denial of Bodies
Initially, Pakistan’s state repression in Balochistan manifested in the form of enforced disappearances. Thousands of young Baloch have vanished from streets, campuses, and homes, many never resurfacing. These disappearances were often followed by denial of bodies, with families left to mourn without closure. The mass graves such as those discovered in Tootak (2014) and Dasht graveyard in Mastung remain horrific reminders of this brutal policy.
A New Pattern of Repression
Now, a disturbing new pattern has emerged in Pakistan’s counterinsurgency strategy in Balochistan. Instead of secretly disposing of unidentified bodies or dumping them anonymously, Pakistani authorities are now refusing to return the bodies of even known Baloch fighters to their families. This shift signals a deeper and more aggressive psychological warfare, targeting both the resistance and the communities from which it draws strength. The strategy has become increasingly visible in the aftermath of high-profile operations by the Baloch Liberation Army.
Operation Ganjal (February 2022)
This operation marked a significant moment in the escalation of conflict. Carried out by the Baloch Liberation Army’s (BLA) Majeed Brigade, Operation Ganjal was a 72-hour assault on heavily fortified Pakistani military headquarters in Panjgur and Noshki. According to BLA sources, the operation resulted in the deaths of over 195 military personnel. In retaliation, the Pakistani military refused to hand over the bodies of BLA’s Fidayeen (self-sacrificing fighters) who attacked the Noshki headquarter. However, the bodies of the Panjgur Fidayeen were returned to their families. The decision to withhold the Noshki Fidayeen’s bodies was deliberate, as authorities feared that public funerals would turn into mass gatherings of mourning and defiance, potentially reigniting local support for the resistance and transforming the dead into powerful symbols of martyrdom.
Operation Dara-e-Bolan 2.0
The pattern continued with Operation Dara-e-Bolan 2.0, a bold and coordinated assault involving the hijacking of Jaffar Express train and Fidayeen attack on a military bus convoy in Noshki. The operation, attributed again to the BLA’s Majeed Brigade and other elite units, resulted in over 354 Pakistani military casualties according to BLA’s official statement. As with previous incidents, the bodies of the Fidayeen and other fallen fighters were never returned to their families, except for two, which were handed over. The rest were withheld or buried in undisclosed locations under heavy military supervision. The secrecy around their burial further fueled anger and anguish among Baloch nation, who saw it as a state attempt to dishonor their martyrs and suppress collective mourning. More recently, this policy has persisted and intensified, as seen in the Turbat incident.
The Turbat Incident (2025)
One of the most recent and emotionally charged examples occurred in Turbat. Three BLA fighters, Nabeel Ahmed, Zakaullah Sunghor, and Feroz alias Sarban, were martyred during a clash with Pakistani military. After their martyrdom, Pakistani forces took possession of their bodies. Rather than informing the families or arranging a public handover, the authorities quietly buried the fighters under tight security in Turbat’s Educational Chowk graveyard. Family members were denied access to the burial and barred from performing religious rites or identifying the bodies. Officials also refused to allow exhumation or proper funeral rituals. For three days, families waited without any cooperation, confirming that the bodies were buried without shrouds or Islamic procedures, causing them deep pain. This sparked outrage, highlighting how even in death, Baloch resistance fighters are denied their humanity.
“Even in death, Baloch resistance fighters are denied their humanity — not because the state fears them, but because it fears what their funerals represent.”
This deliberate policy is now publicly defended. Sarfaraz Bugti, the Chief Minister of Balochistan, openly admitted that the state would not allow “terrorists to be glorified” through their funerals. His remarks came after 13 bodies were secretly buried in Quetta’s Kassi graveyard, sparking outrage among families and human rights groups. This justification reveals that the state’s real fear is not grief, but the collective strength and hope generated through mourning.
Why Do States Do This? Strategic and Psychological Reasons
Preventing Symbolic Martyrdom
At its core, this policy serves multiple strategic and psychological purposes. One of the main goals is to stop the creation of symbolic martyrs. In resistance movements, funerals are not just personal or family events; they are powerful political gatherings where people express unity, identity, and defiance. Governments worry that these funerals can turn into protests, bringing people together and encouraging others to join the struggle. By not returning the bodies to families, the state tries to block this powerful form of resistance and prevent it from spreading.
Breaking Family and Community Bonds
One major objective of withholding bodies is to fracture the emotional and social strength of resistance communities. When families are denied the right to bury their loved ones, it causes deep psychological pain and disrupts the natural grieving process. The unresolved mourning leaves them in prolonged emotional uncertainty, breaking familial strength and weakening the bonds that often sustain resistance movements. This silence and helplessness do more than harm individuals — they tear at the emotional fabric of entire communities, making collective action more difficult and emotionally exhausting. It becomes a powerful form of repression that reaches far beyond the battlefield, targeting not just lives but the spirit of solidarity itself.
Controlling the Narrative
Another important reason is that the state wants to control the story being told. Returning a body means admitting that the person existed, fought, and died for a political cause. By withholding bodies, the state seeks to erase the narrative of resistance and deny fighters their historical and political recognition. When the names and burial places are hidden, the fighters are no longer seen as real people with beliefs and rights; they are made to seem like nameless threats. This further shields the state from accountability by eliminating evidence of extrajudicial killings and other human rights violations.
“By refusing to return bodies, the state seeks to erase the narrative of resistance and deny fighters their historical and political recognition.”
Avoiding International Scrutiny
International scrutiny is also evaded through this tactic. By preventing identification and DNA verification, states sidestep legal obligations under international humanitarian law, including the Geneva Conventions, which mandate the humane treatment of combatants and the return of remains. Withholding bodies allows states to operate with impunity, avoiding investigations into potential war crimes or human rights abuses.
Weakening the Morale of Fighters and Families
Beyond damaging community ties, the tactic targets the psychological resilience of both the fighters and their support systems. For those in the struggle, the message is clear: even in death, dignity will be denied. The painful uncertainty about what will happen to them or their comrades creates fear and wears them down. Families are left in the dark, often falling into silence or hopelessness. The aim is to break the emotional strength needed to keep resisting over time.
Reinforcing Civilian Powerlessness
This practice strengthens a system where the state controls more than just life and death, but memory and mourning. By deciding who can bury their loved ones and when, the state avoids being held responsible for its actions. Ordinary people, unable to even grieve properly, are forced to watch their own pain without being able to act. This loss of control creates a deep sense of helplessness, making people accept repression not just around them, but within themselves.
History Shows This Strategy Often Backfires
“History shows that withholding bodies often backfires — the absence becomes more haunting than presence, and the injustice harder to ignore.”
Despite the brutality of such tactics, history shows that withholding bodies often backfires, amplifying resistance rather than quelling it. Instead of silencing resistance, it has inflamed it. Families have turned into activists, and communities have become more politically conscious. The memory of the missing body becomes sacred, the absence more haunting than presence, and the injustice harder to ignore. In trying to erase evidence and suppress dissent, the state often ends up fueling the very fire it hopes to extinguish.
Balochistan: A Culture That Celebrates Martyrdom
Understanding this policy’s impact requires recognizing how deeply martyrdom is woven into Baloch identity and resistance.
In Balochistan, the body of a martyred fighter is not just seen as a loss. It becomes a source of strength and unity. When a Baloch fighter is killed, their funeral often brings together thousands of people. They sing songs, raise slogans, and show their support. These moments inspire the younger generation to continue the struggle.
For the Pakistani state, this cultural reality poses a significant threat. Unlike in some regions where death demoralizes, in Baloch society, martyrdom is seen as the highest form of resistance. A body returned does not merely bring sorrow. It ignites renewed resolve among the people.
Thus, Pakistani forces have adopted the policy of quietly burying fighters in guarded cemeteries, unknown graveyards, or withholding their bodies, a strategy that reflects their fear of public emotion turning into mass mobilization.
Global Comparisons: A Common Authoritarian Strategy
This strategy is not unique to Balochistan. Around the world, authoritarian regimes facing resistance movements have used similar tactics. In Palestine, Israel has long withheld the bodies of Palestinian fighters, storing them in anonymous “cemeteries of numbers” or using them as bargaining chips in prisoner exchanges. This practice functions as psychological deterrence and an attempt to prevent funerals from sparking protests.
In Kashmir, India’s forces have adopted a similar approach since 2020, burying militants in remote locations rather than returning bodies. This policy followed mass uprisings sparked by large funeral processions for militants like Burhan Wani in 2016. Indian authorities justify the practice with security concerns, but the underlying goal is to suppress the symbolism of martyrdom.
Turkey and Iran employ comparable policies in Kurdish regions. Turkey often returns the bodies of PKK fighters in mutilated states or withholds them entirely, while Iran denies families the remains of PJAK fighters. Families protest for years, facing state violence and imprisonment, yet remain unable to recover their dead. In Sri Lanka, the government secretly buried or incinerated thousands of Tamil Tiger fighters during the 2009 war’s final stages to erase the LTTE’s legacy and deny the Tamil nation their martyrs.
The State’s Deep Fear
All these examples point to a consistent pattern that states do not fear the fighters when they are alive as much as they fear the symbolic power these fighters hold in death. In martyrdom, a fighter’s influence can multiply by inspiring others, uniting the nation, and keeping the cause alive forever.
In Balochistan, the state’s fear is real. The funerals of martyrs like Banuk Karima Baloch, Dr. Mannan, and many Baloch Fidayeen have brought people together in strong unity and emotion. People travel long distances, women raise slogans, and the atmosphere is full of determination. The Baloch nation deeply owns their martyrs and celebrates them, just as they have honored many Fidayeen and other heroes who gave their lives for the cause. A fallen body becomes a powerful symbol that keeps their memory alive and inspires the generation.
Conclusion: Martyrdom as a Battlefield
Withholding bodies has become a battle of its own. It is where grief, dignity, memory, and resistance clash with state power. In Balochistan and beyond, authoritarian regimes use this tactic to silence martyrs even after they have fallen. But this strategy often reveals the state’s fear more than its strength. They fear that a funeral might turn into a rally. They fear that a mother’s tears might inspire rebellion. They fear that a martyr’s name might outlive tanks and bullets.
By denying martyrs the respect they deserve, states try to erase the meaning of the lives they lived and the cause they died for. But the stories refuse to be buried. The songs continue. Even when graves are unmarked, they remain alive in the collective memory of resistance.
History teaches us one clear lesson: the more regimes try to suppress remembrance, the stronger the memory becomes. In the end, martyrdom denied often transforms into martyrdom magnified.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Balochistan Post or any of its editors.