Pakistan Never Built the Iran Gas Pipeline. Now It Needs Tehran to Get LNG Through Hormuz

A Pakistani reader asked why the country is importing LNG through a war-disrupted Strait of Hormuz when Iran sits next door and a gas pipeline has been discussed for decades. The answer leads from sanctions and Pakistan’s unfinished pipeline to an extraordinary 2026 irony: Islamabad now needs Iranian cooperation to help Qatari LNG pass through Hormuz.

A reader asked why Pakistan is bringing gas through a war-disrupted chokepoint when Iran is next door. The answer leads from sanctions to Pakistan’s own failures, and an extraordinary irony created by Hormuz.

A reader left a comment under my recent discussion of Pakistan’s exposure to the Strait of Hormuz.

His question was written in capital letters:

“ALREADY IN PLACE IRAN-PAKISTAN GAS PIPE LINE PROJECT BUT UNDER US SANCTIONS ON IRAN, THIS CANNOT OPERATE?”

I understood what he meant.

I have been hearing versions of this argument in Pakistan for years. Iran has gas. Pakistan needs gas. We share a border.

Somewhere between the two sits the United States with its sanctions.

Why, then, are we bringing liquefied natural gas from Qatar through one of the most dangerous waterways in the world?

The question has become harder to dismiss.

In September, a tanker carrying about 82,000 tonnes of Qatari LNG reached Port Qasim after passing through the badly disrupted Strait of Hormuz. It was Pakistan’s first Qatar-origin LNG cargo through the strait since July. Another Pakistani-bound LNG tanker crossed later in the month.

Before the present war, roughly 125 large commercial vessels passed through Hormuz each day. Reuters counted only 17 commodity vessels crossing during the weekend of September 19–20. Some vessels may have been moving without normal tracking, but the collapse in visible commercial traffic was extraordinary.

I live in Karachi. Port Qasim is not an abstraction to me.

Neither is the gas shortage.

So I went back to the reader’s question.

It turns out that one part of his comment is right. Another part needs correcting.

Between the two lies a story Pakistan has avoided for more than twenty years.

The Pipeline Pakistan Never Built

The Iran-Pakistan pipeline is not a completed pipe waiting for someone to open a valve.

That distinction matters.

Under the original arrangement, Iran was to supply Pakistan with roughly 750 million cubic feet of gas a day. Pakistan was responsible for constructing approximately 781 kilometres of pipeline on its side.

Iran made substantial physical progress.

Pakistan did not build its section.

Petroleum Minister Ali Pervaiz Malik told the Senate in August that sanctions remained in place and Pakistan was therefore not taking practical construction steps. He also confirmed something more serious: the dispute between Pakistan and Iran had reached an arbitration tribunal in Paris. Dawn reported the minister’s account and the arbitration dispute.

Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has since established a high-level committee to examine the legal and energy questions surrounding the project, along with its financial implications.

There is another number that frequently appears whenever Pakistanis discuss this project: $18 billion.

I would be careful with it.

It has repeatedly been described as the penalty Pakistan might face for failing to fulfil its obligations. Pakistan’s parliamentary record makes clear, however, that the question of liability is tied to arbitration. Iran disputes Pakistan’s argument that sanctions created a force majeure or excusing event. Pakistan’s National Assembly record sets out the government’s sanctions position.

Pakistan does not currently have an established $18 billion bill sitting on a desk.

What it has is an unresolved international contractual dispute whose eventual cost remains uncertain.

What American Sanctions Actually Do

This is where Pakistani arguments often become too simple.

We sometimes speak of American sanctions as though Washington has placed a physical lock on the pipeline.

Pakistan’s Petroleum Division has explicitly told parliament that the project stalled because of international sanctions on Iran. It also said Pakistan had been unable to begin construction because of U.S. sanctions and had approached Washington through diplomatic channels seeking an exemption.

Sanctions cannot simply be dismissed as Islamabad’s excuse.

But consider what constructing and operating the pipeline would require.

Somebody has to finance it. Contractors willing to work on an Iranian project must then be found, equipment purchased and payments processed through banks that may have international exposure.

That is where sanctions begin to bite.

A bank does not need an American official to telephone its chief executive every morning.

If its compliance department believes an Iranian transaction creates unacceptable sanctions exposure, that can be enough. A contractor with international business may reach the same conclusion.

The project can stop without anyone physically blocking the pipe.

Pakistan’s Foreign Office added an important qualification in June. It said sanctions affecting economic cooperation with Iran were not exclusively American and specifically mentioned European restrictions as well. The Foreign Office briefing described the broader sanctions environment.

The reader who blamed U.S. sanctions therefore identified a major part of the problem.

He did not identify all of it.

Sanctions Are Not Pakistan’s Entire Alibi

This part makes me uncomfortable because Pakistanis, myself included, are accustomed to looking for the external power behind a national problem.

Sometimes it is there.

But twenty years is a long time.

Pakistan struggled with financing. Construction never began on the required scale. Commercial circumstances changed while governments came and went.

Iran waited.

Deadlines moved.

Eventually lawyers entered the story.

The result is peculiar. Pakistan needs gas and once signed a long-term agreement to buy Iranian gas, yet the country never constructed the infrastructure required to receive it.

Sanctions help explain that history.

They should not prevent us from examining Pakistan’s own decisions inside it.

Pakistan today is not the Pakistan that negotiated this pipeline.

The Pakistan That Signed This Deal No Longer Exists

Drive around Karachi in daylight and look upward.

Solar panels are difficult to miss now.

They are sitting on houses and shops. Industrial buildings have them too. Pakistan’s rapid solar expansion has started reshaping daytime electricity demand.

That matters to the pipeline debate.

Power Minister Awais Leghari told Reuters earlier this year that around 74% of Pakistan’s electricity was being generated from domestic sources in March. LNG accounted for roughly 10% of power generation and remained particularly useful for evening demand.

Pakistan had even cancelled 21 LNG cargoes scheduled for 2026–27 under its long-term arrangement with Italy’s Eni because demand had weakened.

That is quite a change from the Pakistan that negotiated the Iran gas deal.

We cannot take a twenty-year-old energy argument, dust it off and assume the economics remain identical.

The pipeline may still make sense.

Somebody needs to prove it with today’s numbers.

The $10 Gas Question

Geography plays tricks on us.

Iran is next door. Qatar is across the Gulf.

Surely Iranian gas must therefore be cheaper.

Perhaps.

Proximity alone doesn’t answer the question.

The Pakistan Institute of Development Economics recently revisited the project. Using the proposed Brent-linked pricing formula, PIDE calculated that at an illustrative Brent price of $75 a barrel, the gas commodity price would work out at about $10.09 per MMBtu. Read PIDE’s economic assessment.

That is an illustrative calculation, not a quotation for gas Pakistan could buy tomorrow.

Taking 750 million cubic feet every day could imply an annual gas-purchase commitment of roughly $2.84 billion, according to the same analysis.

Pakistan would still need to finance and construct its section of the pipeline.

Other analysts reach a more favourable conclusion. Energy-market specialists interviewed by S&P Global estimated that Iranian pipeline gas could save Pakistan roughly $3–$6 per MMBtu compared with LNG under their assumptions. They also cautioned that geopolitical obstacles would have to ease and commercial terms might require renegotiation. S&P Global reported the competing estimates.

I find the disagreement useful.

It tells us that “Iranian gas is cheap” is not an analysis.

Neither is “the pipeline is uneconomic.”

Run the numbers again.

The Pakistan of 2026 deserves a 2026 calculation.

Then Came the War

Pakistan’s LNG normally comes from Qatar.

To reach us by sea, it has to pass through Hormuz.

The war has turned that routine voyage into something requiring diplomacy.

In May, Reuters reported an extraordinary development. Pakistan had reached an arrangement with Iran concerning the passage of Qatari LNG shipments through Hormuz. Iran was increasingly regulating passage through the strait as normal commercial movement collapsed. Reuters reported on Pakistan’s Hormuz arrangement with Iran.

Read that again.

Pakistan could not complete a pipeline to bring Iranian gas across the land border.

Then Pakistan had to deal with Iran so that gas from somewhere else could get through the sea.

By September, this was no longer a one-off curiosity. Pakistan again secured passage for another Qatari LNG shipment through diplomatic engagement involving Iran.

That is the part of this story I cannot get out of my head.

For decades, sanctions made energy cooperation with Iran extraordinarily difficult.

Now the geography of the war has made cooperation with Iran relevant to Pakistan’s access to non-Iranian energy too.

The old debate has been turned upside down.

A Pipeline Would Solve One Problem, Not All of Them

At this point it would be easy to write the angry conclusion.

Build the pipeline.

Tell Washington Pakistan needs energy.

Problem solved.

I don’t think the evidence allows me to say that.

A land pipeline could reduce Pakistan’s exposure to the Strait of Hormuz for the volume of gas it carried. That is a genuine strategic advantage.

The gas, however, would come from Iran, a country under sanctions and at the centre of the present conflict. Pakistan would still need a workable payment mechanism.

There is also the physical route through Balochistan. Any serious costing of the project has to include the problem of protecting infrastructure over decades.

And while all this has been happening, Pakistan’s gas market itself has changed.

Solar has altered electricity-consumption patterns. The gas sector carries enormous circular debt. A long-term gas commitment that looked sensible in another era requires another look now.

This is why I don’t see the Iran pipeline as a magic route to Pakistani energy independence.

A pipeline can bypass Hormuz. It cannot bypass geopolitics.

The Reader’s Question Was Better Than It Looked

I went back to that capital-letter comment after doing this research.

“Already in place” was wrong.

Pakistan’s part isn’t.

The suggestion that sanctions have prevented the project from operating was much closer to reality, although sanctions are not the whole explanation.

Yet the reader had noticed something important.

Pakistan is struggling to obtain LNG through a maritime chokepoint while an unfinished gas project sits in our diplomatic files involving the country next door.

The irony has become stranger.

Pakistan has had to seek Iranian cooperation over the passage of Qatari LNG through Hormuz while the Iran-Pakistan land pipeline remains stalled.

I can imagine one of those tankers eventually approaching Port Qasim.

Most people in Karachi will never see it.

We will notice the consequences elsewhere, perhaps in a gas bill or another government announcement about energy conservation.

That is what has changed for me about this old pipeline debate.

I am not convinced that Pakistan should simply start laying pipe tomorrow. The sanctions problem is real. So are the contractual and financial questions.

But I am equally uncomfortable with pretending that doing nothing carries no cost.

For twenty years Pakistan has worried about the price of building the pipe.

Hormuz has now shown us the price of not having enough alternatives.

“A Very Pakistani Problem”? How Palki Sharma Turned a Regional Energy Shock Into a Pakistan Punchline

Palki Sharma called Pakistan’s fuel crisis “a very Pakistani problem.” I examine the military exemption, Iran sanctions and the regional energy shock.

I was watching Palki Sharma explain Pakistan’s latest fuel-conservation measures when the tone changed.

At first, I recognised the country she was describing. Markets closing earlier. Government vehicles getting less fuel. Officials being told to cut travel. These are uncomfortable measures for people already watching petrol prices and household expenses.

Then came the jokes.

Pakistan’s attempt to conserve fuel became a “lockdown.” An exemption for operational military vehicles became a claim that the armed forces could use as much fuel as they wanted.

Later came the sharper line. Pakistan, viewers were told, may keep running out of resources, but apparently never runs out of bad decisions.

One sentence caught my attention because it sat awkwardly beside what followed.

“This is not a crisis of Pakistan’s making,” Sharma said.

Quite.

The interesting question is how a regional energy shock then became, in the same commentary, “a very Pakistani problem.”

Pakistan really has imposed painful restrictions

There is no reason for me to pretend Islamabad has handled energy security brilliantly.

It has not.

On September 17, the federal government announced a three-month austerity and fuel-conservation drive as higher international petroleum prices put Pakistan under growing pressure. Fuel allocations for official vehicles were cut by 50 percent. Purchases of new government vehicles were banned. Foreign official travel was heavily restricted for three months, according to the government announcement reported by Radio Pakistan.

Government departments were also told to make greater use of teleconferencing. Most official dinners were prohibited, except those involving visiting foreign delegations.

Commercial restrictions affect ordinary life more visibly.

Markets and most shops must close by 9 p.m. Marriage halls close by 10 p.m. Restaurants can operate until 11 p.m., while takeaway and home delivery remain exempt. Pharmacies and hospitals are among the essential services exempt from the closing restrictions. Fuel stations remain exempt as well.

The government has also retained the single-dish requirement for marriage functions.

Those measures are real.

Calling them a “lockdown” is editorial framing.

Pakistanis have not been ordered into their homes. Economic activity has not been generally suspended. Businesses are operating under restricted hours.

The word works well on television because anyone who lived through Covid immediately understands the image.

It also makes the policy sound more dramatic than the notification itself.

A regional energy crisis sits behind the Pakistani story

Pakistan did not suddenly wake up in September and forget how to buy oil.

The regional conflict has severely disrupted energy flows. Reuters reported on September 17 that the worsening Gulf conflict was putting Pakistan and other Asian energy importers under intense pressure.

Pakistan entered that crisis badly exposed.

Reuters reported in May that up to 90 percent of Pakistan’s oil and LNG imports depended on supplies moving through the Strait of Hormuz. The same report found that Pakistan had no strategic petroleum reserve. Islamabad was studying expanded storage and a reserve system, but those plans had not yet produced the buffer that a prolonged emergency demands.

That failure belongs to Pakistan.

An import-dependent country sitting close to one of the world’s most dangerous energy chokepoints should have spent years preparing for disruption. Governments knew the geography. They also knew how quickly an oil shock could damage Pakistan’s fragile balance of payments.

Yet the vulnerability remained.

Criticism should start there.

No, the military was not given unlimited fuel

The military section of Sharma’s commentary is where the difference between criticism and caricature becomes clearer.

“Of course, these rules are not for everyone,” she said.

Then came the claim: “They can use as much fuel as they want.”

The official measure is narrower.

The Cabinet Division measures exempt operational vehicles belonging to the Armed Forces and Civil Armed Forces. Operational vehicles of law-enforcement agencies are also exempt, as are those used by essential services and the Federal Board of Revenue. Administrative and non-operational formations do not receive that exemption, according to the officially reported measures.

That distinction matters.

An ambulance cannot simply stop responding because a monthly fuel allocation has been exhausted. The same practical problem applies to emergency law-enforcement operations. Military vehicles performing genuine operational duties raise a comparable issue.

None of this places Pakistan’s military beyond scrutiny.

Quite the reverse. The government should be able to explain how it defines “operational.” Public scrutiny also matters because a broad interpretation could undermine the savings promised by the policy.

Yet the debate should begin with the measure that actually exists.

“Operational military vehicles are exempt” and “they can use as much fuel as they want” are materially different descriptions.

The second one makes better television.

November is the real warning

The segment also leaves viewers with an impression that Pakistan is approaching the bottom of its fuel tanks.

Petroleum Minister Ali Pervaiz Malik gave a more precise account.

He said Pakistan had adequate stocks for September. The government had also reduced the risk to October supplies even under an adverse scenario.

November worried him.

“We have adequate stocks,” Malik said. Even under difficult conditions, he explained, October was covered, “but November I have to plan,” according to Business Recorder.

That is serious.

It is not the same as saying Pakistan will run out of fuel after two months.

Islamabad is now looking far beyond its traditional suppliers. Malik identified Oman and Fujairah as possible sources. He also said Pakistan was exploring Libya and the United States, while West African crude and Kazakhstan were under consideration.

One proposal reveals another Pakistani weakness.

The government is examining whether it can bring American crude in a Very Large Crude Carrier, or VLCC. Malik said such vessels can carry about four times the crude transported by the carriers Pakistan normally uses.

Then the infrastructure problem appears.

According to Malik, existing Pakistani ports lack the draft and infrastructure required to berth these giant vessels. One possibility would involve parking a VLCC near Hub or at Sohar in Oman, followed by ship-to-ship transfers into smaller vessels bound for Pakistan.

Pakistan also has a limited number of vessels available to manage these movements, Malik acknowledged.

Here is a genuine Pakistani problem.

Why did an import-dependent country enter a major energy emergency without a proper strategic reserve?

Why does port infrastructure still constrain the ability to diversify crude supplies quickly?

Those questions concern Pakistani choices. They deserve uncomfortable answers.

They do not require punchlines.

Then I looked west from Karachi

Something else bothered me while listening to the list of possible suppliers.

The United States. Libya. West Africa.

Iran sits next door.

From Karachi, the geography looks strange. Pakistan may consider bringing crude across an ocean while a major petroleum producer lies across our western border.

The explanation begins in the financial system.

For a short period this summer, Washington loosened part of the sanctions framework. OFAC issued General License X in June, authorising specified transactions involving Iranian-origin crude and petroleum products.

That opening did not last.

On July 7, OFAC revoked General License X and replaced it with General License X1 to wind down the June authorisation, according to the U.S. Treasury’s OFAC notice.

As of September, OFAC continues to maintain an extensive Iran sanctions programme. Its current Iran sanctions guidance makes clear that some Iran-related activities can proceed when specifically licensed, which is why saying simply that all Iranian oil transactions are “illegal” would be inaccurate.

For Pakistan, the practical problem goes beyond the wording of one American licence.

An Iranian barrel can be close and still difficult to buy

I work around cross-border payments, so this part of the story immediately catches my attention.

Buying crude requires more than finding a seller.

A payment has to move. Banks must accept the transaction and the counterparties involved. Shipping arrangements have to function under the applicable sanctions environment.

Once sanctions screening enters that chain, a commercially attractive transaction can become difficult very quickly.

That is the Iran paradox.

Pakistan and Iran share a border. Yet an Iranian barrel can be financially harder for Pakistan to obtain through conventional international channels than crude travelling a much greater physical distance.

That does not mean Iranian energy is irrelevant to Pakistan.

Quite the opposite.

During the present crisis, Iran has already demonstrated its importance to Pakistan’s energy security in another way. Reuters reported in May that Pakistan and Iraq had reached arrangements with Iran concerning passage of oil and LNG through the Gulf while Tehran exercised greater control over traffic through the Strait of Hormuz.

Geography still matters.

Financial architecture matters too.

A map shows only half the problem.

Pakistan still owns its failures

None of this absolves Islamabad.

The present crisis has exposed weaknesses that should have been addressed before energy routes came under severe pressure.

Strategic reserves provide the clearest example. Pakistan depends heavily on imported energy moving through Hormuz, yet Reuters found in May that the country lacked a dedicated strategic petroleum reserve.

Port capability creates another constraint.

If Pakistan wants a genuinely diversified crude supply, it needs infrastructure capable of handling economical long-distance shipments. Reliance on offshore transfers and smaller feeder vessels adds complexity when the country is already under pressure.

Energy diversification also requires more than finding another seller whenever war closes a route.

Asia as a whole has been learning that lesson during the Iran conflict. Reuters reported earlier in the crisis that governments across the region were scrambling for alternatives as disrupted supplies raised costs and exposed import dependence.

Pakistan has less financial room than many larger Asian economies to absorb such shocks.

That makes preparation more important, not less.

I do not need an Indian television presenter to tell me Pakistan has made poor energy decisions.

I live here.

Every increase at the petrol pump eventually reaches the household budget. Transport becomes more expensive. Food follows sooner or later.

For people dealing with those costs, the fuel crisis is not an amusing abstraction.

That is why accuracy matters.

When criticism turns into performance

Palki Sharma had the ingredients for a stronger story.

Pakistan entered this emergency dangerously dependent on Gulf energy routes. It lacked the strategic petroleum reserve that such exposure should have encouraged. Its port limitations now complicate attempts to diversify crude supplies quickly.

Then there is Iran.

A major petroleum producer lies next door, yet sanctions and the international financial system complicate the commercial value of that proximity. OFAC’s brief opening in June, followed by its July revocation and wind-down, shows how quickly that environment can change.

Those are difficult stories.

Instead, parts of the segment fall back on a familiar image of Pakistani dysfunction.

The most revealing moment remains Sharma’s acknowledgement:

“This is not a crisis of Pakistan’s making.”

She is right about the immediate external shock.

Pakistan did not create the regional conflict or the resulting disruption of energy flows.

Pakistan did, however, enter that crisis with vulnerabilities of its own making.

Both facts belong in the story.

A serious critique can ask why Pakistan lacked stronger reserves before the crisis arrived. It can investigate whether military exemptions remain tightly confined to operational use. It can examine why port constraints make emergency diversification harder.

There is enough there to make Islamabad uncomfortable without stretching the facts.

After checking the Cabinet Division notification and the petroleum minister’s remarks, I returned to the final minutes of the broadcast.

Pakistan, we are told, may keep running out of resources but never out of bad decisions.

Some Pakistani decisions certainly deserve their own investigation.

Yet I am left thinking about something else.

When a regional energy crisis crosses a border and enters a television studio, at what point does journalism stop explaining another country and begin performing that country for its audience?