There are wounds that bleed and then there are wounds that linger silently, beneath the surface, deep in the soul. For Pakistanis, such wounds are a reality. They are inflicted not only by bullets and bombs, but by the far subtler politics of words—the deliberate callousness of words used and avoided by segments of international media.

Recently, I received an open letter from a young man, Aqib Hussain, who, in his heart-wrenching letter, expressed his raw, unfiltered grief. The letter is published next to this column.

He had lost his brother, Shahzaib Hussain, in the terrorist attack on 6th February 2026. It was a suicide attack which occurred at the Khadija Tul Kubra Mosque. Besides his brother, 30 innocent people who were praying in Jumah embraced shahadat.

This was the latest terrorist attack on Pakistan, which has faced the brunt of terrorism in the last 25 years, primarily because of the War on Terror launched by the USA against the Taliban in 2001. With over eighty thousand dead and an economic loss of more than 125 billion dollars, Pakistan has indeed paid a very high price.

Aqib expressed his deep anguish not only over the death of his brother but also over the apathy of the international media, who label terrorists as “militants” or “separatists” or “fighters”.

Labelling is one of the most powerful tools available in narrative building. Words are not neutral; they are among the most powerful engines of perception. Since the general public is the end user, labelling is used as a branding apparatus to garner a specific image. Thus, when a person hears a word, he or she conjures up an image. Resultantly, a single word can shift how an audience understands an event, assigns blame, distributes sympathy, and justifies the response.

At its core, labelling performs three primary functions: it defines the meaning, it determines the moral judgement, and it provides an outline of the emotional response.

Calling someone a terrorist situates him or her in a mould of being illegitimate, violence-prone, and having no respect for the sanctity of human life. Indiscriminate brutality is used without any cogent justification. Even if the cause they pursue is genuine, the simple classification of being called a “terrorist” is dehumanising, robbing the terrorist of any empathy from the general public.

In contrast, the word “separatist” places the same actor within the domain of a political or historical struggle. The grievances, whether real or perceived, generate sympathy in the general public and attract sympathisers and activists. Even if violence is used, a justification is found to justify the same.

Thus, two words but wholly different impacts. “Terrorist” represents criminality, whereas “separatist” signifies political struggle; the former exhibits irrational and indiscriminate violence while the latter presents the violent act as grievance-driven; lastly, the viewing lens shifts from absolute condemnation to conditional understanding.

Similarly, the difference between the word “militant” and “terrorist” is not only linguistic but deeply conceptual, emotional, and political. The word “militant” signifies being engaged in a struggle, usually armed. But it describes method and not necessarily morality. When the media uses this term, it denotes an armed actor without moral judgement, having a cause for achieving which violence is a necessary, ambiguous tool, appearing safer and more neutral.

Facts on the ground stay the same. The meaning and understanding attached to them change. The dead remain dead.

Aqib lamented the fact that the international media has a double standard. He gives various examples in his letter. Thus, when 9/11 happened, the perpetrators were called “terrorists” and nobody labelled them as “separatists”. The headline in The Los Angeles Times on the 9/11 attacks read: “TERRORISTS ATTACK NEW YORK, PENTAGON.”

Sadly, the anguish felt by the young man, and Pakistanis in general, is supported by facts. As a potent example, in the APS Peshawar attack, in which more than 150 schoolchildren were massacred by the TTP, the headline (very close to the original) in Al Jazeera was: “Taliban militants kill scores in Pakistan school attack.” “Militants”, not “terrorists”.

After one year, an excerpt from the report of Al Jazeera’s reporter, Billy Briggs, on 16th December 2015, on the APS Peshawar School massacre is reproduced: “But the massacre at the Army Public School was by far the deadliest attack by an armed group in the country’s history.” “Armed group”, not “terrorists.”

Similarly, recently on 21st September 2026, Al Jazeera English tweeted: “a fighter driving an explosive-laden motorcycle”. In this incident, two soldiers had embraced martyrdom. Not only did Al Jazeera use the word “fighter” instead of “terrorist”, but it also used “killed” instead of “martyred” for the valiant soldiers.

After going through some of the reporting of major Western media, for example BBC, Reuters, AP, and others, it comes to the fore that this trend is prevalent in nearly all international media outlets. “Militants” is used for TTP, “separatists” is used for Baloch groups like BLA and BLF, while the term “terrorist” is very rarely used unless quoting officials or in opinion/editorial pieces.

This is not merely a philosophical debate. Rather, it is about moral clarity and having the same standard of reporting across the world. A dead person is a dead person anywhere, and if death is caused by terrorists, it has to be identified and reported as such. When the same act of violence is described differently depending on race, colour, geography, and religion, it creates a hierarchy of grief.

For Pakistanis, this politics of words is deeply hurtful because it is desensitising. Aqib Hussain’s pain is not only his own—it echoes across thousands of families who have buried their loved ones and have read selective language. A terrorist must be reported as a terrorist, regardless of where he strikes, who the target is, or what cause he espouses. Anything less is not journalism but rather a negation of its basic principles.

Aqib’s brother warrants dignity, as does every martyr in Pakistan. The bereaved deserve the truth, upholding the highest standards of journalistic values.

Terror has to be called “terrorism”.

Aamir Zulfiqar KhanThe writer is a senior public policy expert who has served as Inspector General of Police, Punjab, Islamabad and National Highway & Motorways Police. He can be reached at amzkhan.lhr@gmail.com

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