Pakistan, born from the partition of India in 1947, was founded on a refusal to coexist peacefully with non-Muslims, particularly Hindus and Sikhs. The partition, marked by unprecedented violence and displacement, was driven by Islamist ideologies that viewed non-Muslims as “Kafirs” unworthy of equal coexistence. Seventy-eight years later, Pakistan’s animosity toward India and its non-Muslim communities remains unabated.
Recent events, including targeted attacks on Sikh religious sites such as a Gurudwara in Jammu and Kashmir’s Poonch and drone strikes aimed at the Golden Temple in Amritsar, shows this persistent hostility. Yet, amidst these aggressions, a perplexing figure emerges: Gurpatwant Singh Pannun, a Khalistani separatist and self-proclaimed “Sikh leader” whose actions and silence raise questions about his motives, loyalties, and the broader implications of his rhetoric.
This report delves into the contradictions of Pannun’s stance, on how a supposed advocate for Sikh justice can align with a nation that has historically persecuted Sikhs while remaining silent when that same nation attacks Sikh holy sites.
Pakistan’s Attacks on Sikh Religious Sites: A Continuation of Historical Hostility
On May 8, 2025, Pakistan launched a targeted attack on the Sikh community in Poonch, Jammu and Kashmir, shelling the Gurudwara Singh Sabha and civilian homes. The assault resulted in the deaths of four Sikhs: Amreek Singh, a Raagi who sang hymns from the Guru Granth Sahib; Ranjit Singh, a local shopkeeper; Amarjeet Singh, a devout Granthi and tabla player at the Gurudwara; and Ruby Kaur, a homemaker. The attack, described by Narinder Singh of the District Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee as unprecedented in its intensity, shattered the illusion of safety for civilians in Poonch, a region accustomed to cross-border tensions but unaccustomed to such deliberate targeting of religious sites.
The following day, Pakistan escalated its aggression with a targeted drone to attack on Amritsar, the spiritual heart of Sikhism, targeting the Golden Temple. Indian air defenses intercepted the drones, but debris from the projectiles was found near the temple and in border villages such as Makhan Windi, Jethuwal, and Pandher. The attack prompted a blackout in Amritsar and the relocation of holy saroops of the Guru Granth Sahib from a Gurudwara in Havelian village to Gurdwara Ramsar Sahib for safety. These incidents were part of a broader Pakistani response to India’s Operation Sindoor, a precise military operation targeting terrorist camps in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK). This morning (May 10) Pakistan’s shelling also damaged the Aap Shambhu Temple in Jammu, further highlighting its indiscriminate targeting of non-Muslim religious sites.
These attacks are not isolated incidents but part of a historical pattern of Pakistan’s hostility toward Sikhs. The country has a documented history of persecuting its Sikh minority, including forced conversions, destruction of Sikh heritage sites, and desecration of symbols like the statue of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) has long exploited Khalistani separatism to destabilise India, yet its actions reveal a lack of genuine respect for Sikh identity. Why, then, does a figure like Gurpatwant Singh Pannun, who claims to champion Sikh rights, align himself with such a nation? His silence in the face of these attacks raises critical questions about his intentions and the credibility of his separatist agenda.
Gurpatwant Singh Pannun
Gurpatwant Singh Pannun, a U.S.-based Khalistani separatist and leader of the proscribed group Sikhs for Justice, has positioned himself as a vocal advocate for a separate Sikh nation, Khalistan. In a recent interview with a Pakistani propaganda YouTube channel, Pannun made audacious claims that defy reality. He asserted that 20 million Indian Sikhs, including Sikh soldiers and officers in the Indian Armed Forces, would support Pakistan in a potential war against India. Declaring “This is 2025,” Pannun suggested that the current geopolitical climate differs from the Indo-Pak wars of 1965 and 1971, implying that Sikhs would form a “brick wall” to prevent Indian forces from attacking Pakistan through Punjab. He even claimed that Sikhs would serve langar (community meals) to Pakistani troops, painting Pakistan as a benevolent ally to his envisioned Khalistan.
These statements are not only inflammatory but also deeply disconnected from the ground reality. India’s Chief of the Air Staff, Air Chief Marshal Amar Preet Singh, is himself a Sikh, a fact that Pannun conveniently ignores. Sikh soldiers have historically played a pivotal role in India’s defence, from the Battle of Saragarhi to modern conflicts, standing resolute against Pakistan’s aggression. The Sikh community in India, particularly in Punjab, has consistently rejected separatist calls, prioritising national unity over divisive ideologies. Pannun’s assertion that Sikhs would align with Pakistan, a nation with a well-documented history of anti-Sikh persecution, raises questions about his understanding of Sikh values and his true allegiances.
More troubling is Pannun’s silence following Pakistan’s attacks on Sikh religious sites. The shelling of the Gurudwara in Poonch and the drone strikes on Amritsar, which endangered the Golden Temple, elicited no condemnation from Pannun. This is a stark departure from his usual barrage of anti-India rhetoric, where he frequently accuses India of oppressing Sikhs. Why does a self-proclaimed “Sikh leader” remain mute when Pakistan, his supposed ally, targets the holiest Sikh sites? Is his silence a tacit endorsement of Pakistan’s actions, or does it reflect a realisation that his pro-Pakistan stance has backfired? The absence of a statement or video from Pannun, who is otherwise quick to seize media attention, suggests either complicity or cowardice—a betrayal of the very community he claims to represent.
Sikh Resistance and Pakistan’s Duplicity
To understand the gravity of Pannun’s alignment with Pakistan, one must consider the historical context of Sikh resistance to oppression. Sikhism, founded in the 15th century by Guru Nanak, emerged as a faith rooted in equality, justice, and resistance to tyranny. The Sikh Gurus faced relentless persecution from Mughal rulers, who sought to impose Islamic dominance through forced conversions and violence. Guru Arjan, the fifth Guru, was martyred in 1606 for refusing to convert to Islam, setting a precedent for Sikh resilience. Guru Tegh Bahadur, the ninth Guru, was executed in 1675 for defending the religious freedom of Hindus, earning the title “Hind di Chadar” (Shield of India). Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Guru, established the Khalsa in 1699, transforming Sikhs into a martial community dedicated to protecting the oppressed.
The sacrifices of the Char Sahibzade, the four sons of Guru Gobind Singh, further exemplify Sikh courage. Baba Ajit Singh and Baba Jujhar Singh died in the Battle of Chamkaur in 1704, while Baba Zorawar Singh and Baba Fateh Singh were bricked alive in Sirhind for refusing to abandon their faith. These martyrdoms cemented Sikh identity as one of unwavering commitment to righteousness, even at the cost of life.
Pakistan’s recent attacks on Sikh sites evoke memories of this historical persecution. The targeting of Gurudwaras and Sikh civilians in Poonch and Amritsar mirrors the Mughal-era assaults on Sikh identity, yet Pannun’s alignment with Pakistan betrays this legacy. Pakistan’s ISI has long supported Khalistani separatists to destabilize India, but its actions, such as forced conversions of Sikh girls and destruction of Sikh heritage, reveal its true anti-Sikh nature. Why, then, does Pannun mollycoddle a nation that has consistently undermined Sikh dignity? His rhetoric, which paints Pakistan as a friend to Khalistan, ignores the reality that Pakistan’s support for separatism is a strategic ploy to weaken India, not a genuine endorsement of Sikh rights.
India’s Response and the Sikh Community’s Resilience
India’s response to Pakistan’s aggression has been measured yet firm. Operation Sindoor, launched in response to Pakistan’s escalation on April 22, 2025, targeted terrorist camps in Pakistan and PoK with precision, avoiding civilian or religious sites. Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri categorically dismissed Pakistan’s claims that India targeted religious sites like Gurdwara Nankana Sahib, calling them “preposterous and outrageous.” Misri highlighted Pakistan’s own attacks on Gurudwaras in Poonch, which killed 16 civilians and injured 59, as evidence of its duplicity. He also noted the unusual practice of Pakistan holding state funerals for terrorists killed in Operation Sindoor, wrapping their coffins in the national flag—a clear indication that these were not civilians, as Pakistan claimed.
The Sikh community in India has responded with characteristic resilience. In Poonch, despite the loss of lives and damage to the Gurudwara, community leaders like Narinder Singh expressed grief but remained steadfast. In Amritsar, the relocation of holy saroops to safer sites demonstrated a commitment to protecting Sikh heritage amid threats. Indian Sikhs, far from supporting Pannun’s separatist fantasies, have stood united with the nation, as evidenced by their contributions to the armed forces and their rejection of Khalistani propaganda.
This unity raises further questions about Pannun’s relevance. Why does he persist in promoting a narrative that contradicts the lived experiences of Indian Sikhs? His claims of widespread support among Sikhs are undermined by the community’s loyalty to India, particularly in times of crisis. His silence on Pakistan’s attacks suggests a selective outrage, one that prioritises anti-India propaganda over the defence of Sikh lives and sanctity.
Separatism, Propaganda, and Betrayal
Pannun’s actions and silence highlight the dangers of separatist ideologies that exploit religious identity for political gain. By aligning with Pakistan, a nation with a history of anti-Sikh persecution, Pannun undermines the very cause he claims to champion. His rhetoric, delivered from the safety of the United States, lacks the courage of the Sikh Gurus who faced oppression head-on. His failure to condemn Pakistan’s attacks on Sikh sites exposes a moral inconsistency: how can one advocate for “Sikh justice” while ignoring the injustices inflicted by a supposed ally?
Pakistan’s strategy of exploiting Khalistani separatism to create a Hindu-Sikh divide is not new. By falsely accusing India of targeting religious sites while itself attacking Gurudwaras, Pakistan seeks to sow communal discord. Pannun’s complicity in this narrative, whether through his statements or his silence, makes him a pawn in Pakistan’s broader agenda to destabilise India. Yet, the resilience of Indian Sikhs and the Indian state’s commitment to communal harmony have rendered this strategy largely ineffective.
The question remains: what drives Pannun to persist in his divisive rhetoric? Is it a genuine, albeit misguided, belief in Khalistan, or is it a quest for personal relevance fueled by external support? His silence on Pakistan’s attacks suggests a fear of alienating his backers, possibly the ISI, which has long funded Khalistani activities. Alternatively, it may reflect an epiphany that his pro-Pakistan stance has alienated the very community he claims to represent. Either way, Pannun’s actions betray the Sikh values of courage, justice, and unity, casting him as a figure more loyal to propaganda than to faith.
A Call for Reflection
The recent attacks by Pakistan on Sikh religious sites and civilians in Poonch and Amritsar underscore the enduring hostility of a nation founded on religious exclusivity. Gurpatwant Singh Pannun’s alignment with Pakistan, coupled with his silence in the face of these attacks, raises profound questions about his motives and credibility. As a self-proclaimed “Sikh leader,” his failure to condemn Pakistan’s aggression betrays the legacy of Sikh resistance and the sacrifices of the Gurus who stood against oppression.
Indian Sikhs, through their unity and resilience, have demonstrated that they are not swayed by separatist rhetoric or Pakistan’s divisive tactics. The Indian state, through operations like Sindoor, has reaffirmed its commitment to protecting its citizens and countering terrorism without escalating conflict. In this context, Pannun’s voice, once loud with anti-India vitriol, fades into irrelevance, drowned out by the strength of a community that refuses to be divided.
The paradox of Pannun’s stance serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of exploiting religious identity for political ends. As the Sikh community continues to navigate challenges in a volatile region, it is their unity, courage, and commitment to justice, rooted in the teachings of the Gurus, that will prevail. For Pannun, the question remains: will he confront the reality of Pakistan’s anti-Sikh actions, or will he remain ensconced in a fantasy that betrays the very people he claims to lead?
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