Benjamin Franklin’s iconic ‘Join, or Die’ cartoon

By Sumaiya Azeem Behind every road accident statistic is a name, a family, a dream that never came true. The next name doesn’t have to be someone we know—but only if we take responsibility. Road accidents do not happen by chance; they happen because of preventable mistakes. Saving lives is a shared responsibility. Road safety is not just about following traffic rules, it is about protecting human lives. Every day in Pakistan, we hear about road accidents on the news. A bike crash near a school, a bus overturned on the highway, and a child hit while crossing the road—these aren’t just headlines. They are the fathers who won’t come back, students whose exams will never be taken, and futures cut short. Roads connect people, communities, and economies. They allow students to reach school, workers to reach their workplace, and families to travel from one place to another. However, road accidents have become one of the leading causes of death and injury across the world, and unsafe road behavior has turned roads into a major global safety challenge. Every day, thousands of people lose their lives or suffer serious injuries; it also causes permanent disability and leaves families with lifelong conditions. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), approximately 1.19 million people die every year due to road traffic crashes, while 20 to 30 million people suffer non-fatal injuries, many of which result in permanent disability. Road accidents are a serious public health and economic issue. The WHO report shows that more than 90% of traffic accidents occur in low- and middle-income countries. These accidents cause enormous financial losses. Medical expenses, vehicle damage, loss of productivity, and long-term disability create a heavy burden on families. There are several major causes of road accidents. Overspeeding is one of the leading causes of serious road accidents. When vehicles move at high speeds, drivers have less time to react to sudden dangers such as pedestrians crossing, vehicles stopping suddenly, or obstacles on the road. It also increases the severity of injuries during a crash. The use of mobile phones while driving has also become a growing danger. Texting, making calls, or scrolling on social media can cause more accidents. Responsible drivers must keep their full attention on the roads and avoid unnecessary distractions. In addition, driving after consuming alcohol or drugs seriously affects judgment. An impaired driver may not realize the danger in time or may make risky decisions that endanger others. Strict laws and public awareness are necessary to prevent such behavior. Ignoring traffic signals, unsafe overtaking, driving on the wrong side of the road, and failing to give way are other common causes of crashes. Traffic rules are designed to protect everyone; following them is a responsibility, not merely a legal requirement. Moreover, one mistake by one person creates a ripple effect that impacts everyone on the road. A road accident doesn’t just hurt one person. It breaks a family, blocks traffic for hours, burdens hospitals, and wastes national resources. A helmet, a seatbelt, or a 10-second wait at a red light can save lives. Apart from this, everyone has a role to play: Drivers have the biggest role. They must wear seatbelts, avoid using phones while driving, follow speed limits, and obey traffic signals. Riders, especially motorcyclists, are very vulnerable. They should always wear helmets, avoid rash driving, and use indicators, which also helps them stay visible. Pedestrians also need to be careful. A pedestrian is anyone walking on foot. They should use footpaths and zebra crossings, look both ways before crossing, and avoid distractions like headphones on busy roads. Pakistan faces significant road safety challenges due to rapid population growth, an increasing number of vehicles, unsafe driving practices, and weak enforcement. Improving road safety requires better roads, stronger law enforcement, and public awareness. The problem can be solved by following traffic rules, raising awareness, building better road infrastructure, and utilizing strict law enforcement to help prevent accidents. In short, if drivers drive carefully, riders stay alert, pedestrians walk safely, and the community supports traffic rules, we can make our roads much safer. Road safety is not the duty of one person or one department; it is a responsibility shared by everyone. Governments must provide safe infrastructure, and citizens must make responsible choices. A moment of carelessness can destroy a family, while a moment of responsibility can save a life. By respecting traffic rules and promoting awareness, we can create safer roads for ourselves and future generations. Every journey should end safely, and every single person has a role in making it possible.

By Syed Tahir Rashdi  The writer is a Shahdadpur-based contributing columnist, book reviewer, and climate change activist. He holds a BS degree in Pakistan Studies from University of Sindh Pakistan’s debate over new provinces has returned with familiar demands: South Punjab, Bahawalpur, Hazara, Karachi and, periodically, proposals for a more extensive reorganisation of the federation. There are credible arguments behind some of these demands. Population growth, administrative distance, uneven development and the persistence of regional identities have altered the circumstances in which Pakistan’s present provincial arrangement was conceived. Yet the debate tends to proceed from an assumption that deserves greater scrutiny: that creating smaller provinces will, in itself, improve governance. It may. But it may also not. The distinction is important because Pakistan’s principal difficulty has never been simply the size of its administrative units. It has been the weakness, discontinuity and politicisation of the institutions through which those units are governed. This does not make the case for new provinces illegitimate. It does, however, suggest that provincial restructuring should be considered as one component of administrative reform rather than as a substitute for it. Pakistan’s provincial boundaries have never been immutable. The One Unit scheme of 1955 consolidated the western wing into a single province, partly to establish parity between the two wings of the country. It was abolished in 1970, restoring the provinces. The episode remains relevant because it demonstrated the limits of administrative engineering. A territorial arrangement can be imposed constitutionally, but its durability ultimately depends upon political legitimacy. The present debate is considerably more complex. The demand for a South Punjab province contains at least three distinct strands: the historical claim associated with Bahawalpur, the linguistic and cultural politics of Saraiki identity, and the administrative argument that the southern districts have remained distant from the provincial centre in Lahore. There is also the persistent claim of regional economic neglect. These strands should not be conflated. Similarly, the Hazara demand has a strong identity component, while the Karachi question is inseparable from the city’s unusual demographic, economic and political history and the longstanding contest over authority between urban local institutions and the provincial government. The differences matter because different problems require different institutional responses. The Constitution does not make the creation of a new province a matter of political declaration. Article 239 provides a demanding procedure for constitutional amendment, including the approval of the concerned provincial assembly where provincial boundaries are affected. That requirement is not an accidental obstacle. It reflects the logic of federalism: a federation cannot permit the territorial boundaries of one constituent unit to be altered without giving that unit a decisive constitutional voice. The experience of the parliamentary commission on new provinces in 2012 illustrated the complexity of the exercise. Questions of boundaries, resources, representation, administrative structures and constitutional amendments quickly became inseparable from the political question of who would gain or lose influence. That is why the debate deserves to be insulated, as far as possible, from electoral expediency. There is, however, a more fundamental issue that receives considerably less attention. Article 140-A of the Constitution requires provincial governments to establish local government systems and devolve political, administrative and financial responsibility and authority to elected local representatives. This provision goes to the heart of the governance question. A citizen’s encounter with government is rarely with the federal government or even with a provincial assembly. It is with the school, hospital, police station, municipal authority, land office, sanitation service or local administration. Yet local governments in Pakistan have rarely acquired the institutional continuity, fiscal autonomy and political authority envisaged by the Constitution. The result is an unusual form of devolution. The 18th Amendment substantially strengthened the provinces by transferring functions and resources from the federation, but the transfer of authority has often stopped at the provincial level. Islamabad became less dominant. The provinces became stronger. The citizen did not necessarily become more powerful. This is perhaps the most important issue in the new-provinces debate. If a region is suffering because decisions are too distant from its population, the first question should be whether existing institutions can be decentralised before an entirely new tier of government is created. Comparative experience does not provide a universal answer, but it does offer useful cautions. Indonesia’s post-Suharto decentralisation transferred extensive responsibilities to subnational governments. The reform was necessary after decades of centralised rule, but decentralisation itself did not guarantee effective or accountable government. Subsequent reforms had to focus on institutional capacity, fiscal management and local accountability. Nigeria provides another caution. The creation of additional states was partly intended to improve political representation and accommodate regional interests. Yet the country continues to face substantial governance and institutional-capacity problems across its states. The lesson from both cases is not that administrative restructuring is futile. It is that territorial fragmentation and institutional development are different processes. South Africa offers a somewhat different model. Its Constitution explicitly recognises local government as a sphere of government and assigns municipalities constitutional responsibilities relating to democratic participation and service delivery. The significance lies less in the number of provinces than in the distribution of authority among the different levels of government. Switzerland’s federal tradition similarly rests on substantial cantonal and communal autonomy. Its relevance to Pakistan is not institutional imitation but a principle: government functions should be located at the level at which they can be performed most effectively, while higher levels retain responsibilities that require wider coordination. There is therefore no universally correct number of provinces. The appropriate administrative scale depends upon geography, population, fiscal capacity, the nature of the public service and, above all, institutional competence. Pakistan’s governance difficulties are familiar enough to require little elaboration: weak rule of law, politicisation of public institutions, patronage, corruption, uneven accountability, administrative discontinuity and the recurrent weakening of local government. None of these problems disappears when a provincial boundary is moved. A new province may shorten the administrative distance between a region and its provincial capital. It does not automatically make the police independent,