Ebola Outbreak-The deadly Epidemic

A recent five-member judgment of the Supreme Court has settled an important question of Pakistani company law. It has also exposed a deeper weakness in our justice system: even when fraud is ultimately defeated, the victim may receive no meaningful compensation for the years consumed in recovering what was unlawfully taken. In Abdul Razzaq v Registrar of Companies, Securities and Exchange Commission of Pakistan and others, Civil Appeal No. 125 of 2025, decided on April 22, 2026, the Court held that the passage of time could not protect a fraudulent entry in a company’s register of members. The ruling affirms Naila Naeem Younus v Indus Services Limited (2022 SCMR 1171), under which a petition for rectification of the register under section 126 of the Companies Act, 2017 is not barred by limitation where shares have been taken through fraud. The decision is legally compelling. The register of members determines who owns shares, receives dividends, votes at meetings and exercises corporate control. A fraudulent alteration is therefore not a technical defect. It can amount to stealing ownership through manipulation of the company’s official record. The Court has rightly refused to allow deception to become title merely because it remained concealed for several years. Fraud is usually designed to remain undiscovered. Applying a rigid limitation period in favour of the person concealing it would reward the very conduct that the law is meant to prevent. The judgment also resolves the uncertainty arising from Bentonite Pakistan Limited v Bankers Equity Limited (2023 SCMR 1353), in which observations had suggested that Article 181 of the Limitation Act could apply to company-law proceedings. The larger bench has clarified that a rectification petition is not an “application” governed by that provision. This doctrinal clarity is welcome. The harder question is what justice means after the fraud has lasted for years. A person fraudulently deprived of shares may lose dividends, voting rights, managerial control and participation in rights or bonus issues. The wrongdoer may meanwhile control the company, use its assets and finance the litigation from benefits derived through the disputed shareholding. After 10 or 20 years, an order restoring the shares may correct the register. It does not necessarily compensate the victim. This problem extends far beyond company law. In Pakistan, fraudulent possession and prolonged litigation often operate together. Land, inheritance, commercial assets and corporate rights are appropriated through false documents or manipulated records. Once challenged, the beneficiary denies everything, seeks adjournments, produces further documents and carries the matter through every available forum. Delay becomes a business strategy. The wrongdoer retains the asset while the victim pays to recover it. Even after losing, the wrongdoer may be required only to return property that never lawfully belonged to him. Nominal costs do little to alter this calculation. A rational legal system must ensure that fraud and frivolous litigation are economically unattractive. Otherwise, the expected gain from wrongdoing remains greater than its expected cost. Pakistan needs to move towards a genuine cost-based justice system. This does not mean obstructing access to courts or punishing honest litigants who fail to prove a bona fide claim. It means distinguishing genuine disputes from proceedings maintained through deliberate falsehood, concealment, forged documents or tactical delay. The Code of Civil Procedure, 1908 provides for costs, and the federal Costs of Litigation Act, 2017 recognises actual, adjournment and special costs in specified circumstances. The larger principle should be applied far more effectively: an innocent litigant should not be forced to finance the other side’s abuse of judicial process. Where fraud is established, courts should ordinarily consider restoration of all benefits obtained from the disputed property, interest for the period of deprivation, realistic legal expenses and enhanced costs where false or vexatious pleas prolonged the case. In corporate cases, this could include an account of dividends, bonus and rights shares, remuneration obtained through control, and other measurable benefits flowing from the fraudulent entry. Section 126(4) also permits referral of fraudulent conduct for proceedings under section 127. Such referrals should be made where the evidence warrants them. The constitutional dimension should not be ignored. Article 10A of the Constitution guarantees fair trial and due process, while Articles 23 and 24 protect property. A right restored after decades, without compensation for its prolonged deprivation, is only partially vindicated. The Supreme Court has correctly ruled that fraud cannot shelter behind the calendar. Our jurisprudence must now adopt the accompanying principle that fraud cannot profit from the judicial calendar either. Justice must do more than correct an entry after years of litigation. It must remove the financial benefit of wrongdoing, compensate the victim as far as reasonably possible and impose realistic costs on those who misuse courts to preserve the proceeds of fraud. Only then will delayed justice cease to be an investment for the wrongdoer. _______________________________________________________________________   Dr. Ikramul Haq, Advocate Supreme Court, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds an LLD in tax laws. He was full-time journalist from 1979 to 1984 with Viewpoint and Dawn. He also served Civil Services of Pakistan from 1984 to 1996.

Many Pakistanis, especially the youth in colleges and universities, while celebrating Independence Day every year (August 14, 2026, marks seventy-ninth), express bafflement as to how a state purportedly created in the name of ‘Islam’ is juxtaposed with the term ‘Republic. They wonder how a Parliament, where majority is not that of theologians, working under Westminster model, retains, amends and enacts mainly Anglo-Saxon laws and yet claims that Shariah is supreme. In Europe and the United States and elsewhere, the term republic connotes a State that precludes monarch and clergy. In our context, the predominant view (though totally misconceived) is that divorced from religion, politics is “changezee” (chaos, anarchy and disorder). جلالِ بادشاہی ہو کہ جمہوری تماشا ہو جدا ہو دیں سیاست سے تو رہ جاتی ہے چنگیزی What poet Dr. Muhammad Iqbal emphasizes in the couplet, Jallah badshahi ho ya jamhori tamasha ho; Juda hon deen siyasat se, to reh jati hai changezee, is that ethics contained in holy Quran should be part and parcel of governance. The majority misconstrue deen (Quranic term seerat-e-mustaqeemright path) as conventional mazhab (religion). By reading the second stanza in isolation, the clergy interprets and insists that politics should only be in the name of their brand of conventional (orthodox) religion. They and many others conveniently ignore the first stanza of the couplet. The couplet unambiguously conveys that whether it is monarchy or democracy, governance sans ethical framework of deen is changezee. With conventional mazhab comes Shariah that is a contentious issue since the adoption of Objectives Resolution of 1949. In a fragmented society marred by sectarian hatred (not merely genuine differences over interpretation of Islamic laws) it has becomes a permanent source of conflicts with claims and counter claims on how to run the State. Ziauddin Sardar (born in Lahore and who left Pakistan in 1960 at the age of nine, now author of not less than fifty books with world-wide acclaim of a public intellectual specialising in Muslim thought) says that if you equate Islam with state, then religion becomes a reason of the state and that state becomes the power of religion. Basically you produce a totalitarian system”. Ziauddin elaborates that the very idea that “Islam is equal to state is a totalitarian equation. We dont have to go very far; we just have to see recent history. Wherever Islam has been equated with state, we have produced totalitarian systems, like Iran, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Afghanistan, you name it”. Of course, Saudi Arabia is now drifting away from influence of clergy, but not monarchy. According to critics of Objectives Resolution, it was a departure from the ideals of Quaid-e-Azam, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, of equality for all citizens and his principles of fair governance. Using it as a ploy, they say that all governments, both military and civilians, managed to convert Pakistan into an exploitative State where ultimately the Shariat Court held land reforms against Islam. According to them, Quaid-e-Azam did not want to make Pakistan a theocratic but certainly an egalitarian state. Objectives Resolution, passed by the first Constituent Assembly on March 12, 1949 under Liaquat Ali Khans leadership is undoubtedly one of the most important documents in the constitutional history of Pakistanit served as preamble for the Constitutions of 1956, 1962 and eventually became part of the 1973 Constitution when the Eighth Amendment was passed in 1985. The proponents of Objectives Resolution claim that it confirms the true genesis of Pakistan by reiterating, Sovereignty of the entire Universe belongs to Allah alone and authority should be delegated to the State through its people under the rules set by Allah”. Therefore, it has become a blend of Islam and Western democracy. Liaquat Ali Khan explained the context of the resolution in his speech delivered in the Constituent Assembly on March 7, 1949 claiming it to be “the most important occasion in the life of this country, next in importance only to the achievement of independence”. He said that we as Muslims believe that authority is vested in Allah Almighty and it should be exercised in accordance with the standards laid down in Islam. He added that this preamble had made it clear that the elected persons would exercise the authority, which is the essence of democracy, and it eliminates the dangers of theocracy. The events that followed proved him wrong as clergy started asserting its own authority instead of that of Allahs by saying religion is what we interpret”. The logical outcomes of the Objectives Resolution were: (a) movement against Ahmadis, (b) clergys campaign against Ayub Khans regime in the name of Islam, (c) support of religious parties and right wing to military crackdown in East Pakistan culminating into dismemberment of the country and (d) Zulfikar Ali Bhuttos compromises with religious leaders. The matter did not end there. It paved the way for an 11-year dictatorial and nightmarish rule [1977-1988] of General Ziaul Haq. Zias legacy was reflected in the formative political years of Mian Nawaz Sharif, three time elected Prime Minster of Pakistan. Military dictator late General Pervez Musharraf who deposed Nawaz Sharif on October 12, 1999, and all others who followed him failed to undo Zias legacyunfortunately since 1977, religious bigotry is haunting us. The militants and terrorists derive their ideological strength from the notion that real authority rests with Allah and they are waging jihad to make Pakistan a true Islamic polity. The Objectives Resolution, being part of our Constitution, though emphasizes existence of a Muslim State based on the principles of justice and equity for all, yet contradicts the concept of a secular State free of any religious obligations. Shariah as body of laws cannot be free of sectarian biases, thus, one cannot reconcile the two conflicting ideas. For example, in Indonesia, the debate whether you can have an Islamic state was a long drawn one with much depth, and they finally reached the conclusion that Islam and politics are linked, not through the state but through a civic society. It means that if you are a

Pakistan has just taken on a new kind of commitment, and it has caught people’s attention in a way that ordinary diplomatic announcements rarely do. Pakistan’s ties with Saudi Arabia go back decades, and its defence relationship with Türkiye has grown steadily closer in recent years, so cooperation between the three is not surprising on its own. What is new is the nature of the commitment: an attack on any one of the three countries is now to be treated as an attack on all three.   This is not really about whether Pakistan should be working with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye. It is about whether Islamabad has entered this arrangement with a clear enough sense of what it wants from it, and what obligations it may quietly be creating for the future.   It also helps to get the timeline right. This is not Pakistan’s first mutual-defence commitment with Saudi Arabia. Back in September 2025, the two countries had already signed a Strategic Mutual Defense Agreement, treating aggression against either as aggression against both. What is new in 2026 is the attempt to bring Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye together inside one shared framework. Seen that way, this is less a first step and more a new layer added to a relationship that was already forming. An Alliance at a Complicated Moment The agreement comes at a difficult time. Pakistan sits right next to Iran and has a tense relationship with India, while both Saudi Arabia and Türkiye maintain strong economic ties with New Delhi. At the same time, Islamabad has to keep managing working relationships with Iran, China, the United States and its Gulf partners. Any defence commitment, then, has to be understood against several relationships that do not always move in the same direction.   Pakistan is also not entering this alliance from a position of comfort. The country is dealing with economic, security and political pressures all at once, along with instability on its Afghan border and a delicate Iran border to manage. That is a lot to balance already, which is exactly why the practical details of this new commitment matter more than the ceremony around its announcement. What Has Pakistan Actually Committed To? The basic idea is simple: an attack on one member is treated as an attack on all. But what does that actually mean in practice? What would genuinely trigger the commitment, and what military support would Pakistan be expected to give—or receive? And what happens if the three countries find themselves with different interests in the same crisis?   Pakistan’s own Foreign Ministry offered some sense of this in July 2026, saying that agreements of this kind mostly involve peacetime military cooperation, and that in an actual war, how far the commitment would go still needs to be worked out. If anything, that statement makes the case for more clarity, not less.   That uncertainty matters most in two situations close to home. If Pakistan faced another serious confrontation with India, would Saudi Arabia and Türkiye offer real support, given their own important ties to New Delhi? And if tensions with Iran escalated, would Pakistan be expected to take a position that could strain its relationship with its neighbour? Even the growing water dispute with India, one of Pakistan’s most basic security concerns, has not been publicly linked to any shared plan among the three partners. These questions remain open.   There is also a quieter concern worth sitting with. Saudi Arabia brings financial strength to the table, Türkiye brings a growing defence industry, and Pakistan brings manpower, real operational experience and nuclear deterrence. If these strengths are genuinely shared, all three countries could benefit. But if the load falls unevenly, with Pakistan carrying most of the manpower while its own position in a future India crisis stays unclear, the costs could end up outweighing the gains.   History offers a useful reminder here. In his 1983 book Can Pakistan Survive? The Death of a State, Tariq Ali examined Pakistan’s political system, its foreign policy, and the powerful role the military has long played within the state. The circumstances today are very different, but his broader question still feels relevant: can Pakistan turn its usefulness to other powers into lasting strength of its own?   Something else stood out alongside the agreement itself: the mood surrounding it. Governments naturally welcome diplomatic wins, but a defence pact carrying possible wartime obligations is a different kind of agreement than a trade deal. With so many practical details still unclear, the celebratory tone raises a fair question: is this a carefully thought-through long-term strategy, or mostly the excitement of the moment? Commitments this serious deserve a clear explanation before they deserve applause.   Pakistan must also make sure its growing ties with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye stay compatible with its long-standing relationship with China, and with the working relations it still needs with Iran and the United States. Strategic Relevance Is Not Strategic Autonomy Pakistan is becoming more important to other countries. Its military strength, its geography, its nuclear deterrence, and its relationships across very different global camps all give Islamabad real value in the eyes of others. But being useful to other countries is not the same as having a clear strategy of your own.   Strategic autonomy simply means that Pakistan knows what it wants and makes sure its partnerships actually serve that. It means asking not only what Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, China or the United States want from Pakistan, but what Pakistan wants from each of them in return. A country can be militarily valuable, geographically important and courted by several powers, and still have no defined national strategy behind it. That difference sits at the heart of this entire discussion.   Washington’s fairly quiet response also deserves attention. There is no evidence that the United States is deliberately setting a trap for Pakistan. But Islamabad should still think carefully about whether a closer Saudi-Pakistani security relationship could, over time,

By Malik Khuda Bakhsh Awan, retired Inspector General of Punjab Police and former IG of Azad Jammu & Kashmir & Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, water and energy expert who has served in KPK and AJK, We write this not as critics sitting comfortably at a distance, but as two servants of this soil who have spent our working lives in the very regions now aflame with unrest — one of us measuring the water and energy that could have irrigated peace in KPK and AJK, the other commanding police lines in Punjab and standing watch over the mountains of Azad Kashmir. What we have seen convinces us of one thing above all: the fire in Balochistan, AJK and the erstwhile KPK is serious, but it is not yet beyond our control. It can still be reversed — if the Government of Pakistan acts with the courage to match the sacrifice already being offered on our behalf. Before we offer a single suggestion, we must first bow our heads. Every day, a young Jawan somewhere in Balochistan or the tribal belt tightens his boots before dawn, not knowing if he will return. Every week, a Frontier Corps patrol walks into an ambush it did not seek, and an FC officer’s name is added to a list none of us wants to grow longer. Every month, policemen in Quetta, Muzaffarabad and Peshawar guard checkposts that other citizens simply drive past without a thought. From the newest recruit to the most senior general, our security forces have offered blood, limb and years away from their families to hold this country together. Their courage is not in question. Their commitment is not in doubt. What we owe them now is not more praise — it is a strategy worthy of their sacrifice. That is the entire purpose of this letter. We do not want the martyrdom of our Army, Police and FC personnel to be spent on a war that could have been shortened, or avoided, by decisions made in Islamabad rather than only on the battlefield. History offers us hard evidence that this is possible, even in conflicts far older and far bloodier than ours. Lessons the world has already paid for, so we don’t have to. Colombia fought a Marxist insurgency for fifty years, financed by drugs and kidnapping — arguably a longer and more entrenched war than anything Pakistan faces today. Peace came in 2016 not because the state finally won every battle, but because it paired security operations with land redistribution for poor farmers and a transitional justice system that let fighters confess their crimes in exchange for reduced sentences, rebuilding public trust along the way. In Northern Ireland, three decades of sectarian killing between republicans and unionists ended largely because international partners poured investment into the poorest, most neglected border towns — the very places where despair had made paramilitary recruitment easy — while a new power-sharing government guaranteed both communities an equal, transparent voice. Sierra Leone’s civil war was fuelled by “blood diamonds.” It was tamed not merely by defeating the rebels but by legalising and regulating small-scale mining so that ordinary mining communities, not warlords, earned the benefit, backed by an internationally certified transparent supply chain and a strengthened anti-corruption commission. And in our own neighbourhood, the Philippines faced a decades-long Muslim separatist insurgency in Mindanao. It was calmed considerably by granting the Bangsamoro region genuine fiscal autonomy — its own revenue powers and a guaranteed development grant — replacing a corrupt, clan-captured funding system with one that visibly reached ordinary people. The pattern across every one of these conflicts, each objectively worse than what we face today, is the same. Peace did not arrive purely from military victory. It arrived when governments paired continued security pressure with transparent governance and genuine economic opportunity, so that the incentive to pick up a gun simply fell away. Our humble suggestions to the Government- First, unemployment among our youth is, in our respectful assessment, the single biggest driver of unrest in Balochistan, AJK and the tribal districts. A young man with a trade, a wage and a future does not need the BLA or the TTP to promise him meaning; he already has it. We therefore urge the government to treat job creation in these regions not as a welfare afterthought but as a core national-security investment, on par with any military allocation. Second, we ask for financial transparency in how resources from these very regions — gas, minerals, hydropower, forests — are spent. When local people can see, in plain terms, where the revenue from their own land goes, resentment gives way to ownership. Third, we ask for genuine, verifiable inclusion — local land and mining rights regularised in favour of communities rather than absentee interests, block grants that reach tehsil and union council level without being intercepted along the way, and reconstruction that is co-designed with elders and local government rather than imposed from a distant secretariat. Fourth, we ask for a dignified, well-resourced path for demobilisation and reintegration wherever it is possible — vocational training, stipends and honest employment for those willing to lay down arms, so that today’s militant does not become tomorrow’s freelance criminal. Fifth, and we say this with the greatest respect, every federal minister must spend a minimum of fifteen days, physically present, in Balochistan, AJK and KPK each year — not for a photo opportunity at a heavily guarded circuit house, but sitting with local elders, visiting FC and police posts, and looking our Jawans in the eye. A soldier who sees his federal government only through television screens begins to wonder if Islamabad remembers he exists. When a minister walks the same ground our forces are dying to defend, it tells every Jawan, every FC sepoy, every constable that his sacrifice is seen, valued and shared by those who lead him. This single change of habit would do more for morale on the front line than any speech delivered

The world’s largest democracy appears to be at a defining moment in its history, where fundamental questions are once again being raised about the future of the state, politics, constitutionalism, the judiciary, the media, and the country’s broader social order. Consecutive electoral victories by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) have elevated the ideology commonly known as Hindutva, often associated with Hindu majoritarian politics, to the centre of India’s political discourse. Its proponents describe it as an effort to reclaim India’s ancient civilizational identity and cultural heritage. Critics, however, argue that the notion of a single, unified ancient Indian civilization oversimplifies the subcontinent’s historical evolution. For centuries, the Indian subcontinent has been shaped by a mosaic of religions, kingdoms, languages, ethnic communities, commercial networks, and cultural exchanges. Rather than reflecting a single, monolithic civilization, its history reveals a continuously evolving and pluralistic civilizational stream. In today’s interconnected digital age, many historians and political commentators argue that reconstructing such a singular historical identity is neither historically accurate nor socially attainable. They contend that the project has placed India’s constitutional secularism, communal harmony, and federal balance under unprecedented strain. Since assuming office in 2014, the Modi government has introduced a series of policies that have generated intense political debate both within India and internationally. The abrogation of Article 370, which revoked the special constitutional status of Jammu and Kashmir, the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), discussions surrounding a Uniform Civil Code, legislation targeting religious conversions, incidents of mob violence associated with cow protection, and the use of “bulldozer politics” in several states have all contributed to deep political polarization. According to many political observers, Hindutva has evolved beyond an ideological movement into a powerful influence over electoral politics, state institutions, public discourse, and sections of the media. Critics argue that Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, Dalits, and, at times, even Hindus expressing dissent have experienced growing political and social pressures. The government and its supporters reject these allegations, maintaining that the rule of law applies equally to all citizens and that such criticisms are politically motivated. Debate has also intensified over the independence of India’s judiciary, Police, investigative agencies, and media institutions. Former judges, retired civil servants, journalists, and civil society representatives have, on various occasions, expressed concerns regarding institutional autonomy. The government, however, insists that India’s constitutional institutions continue to function independently and effectively. The role of the media has emerged as another defining feature of this political transformation. Critics contend that sections of mainstream television increasingly amplify the government’s narrative while providing limited space for dissenting voices. Independent journalists and digital media platforms have similarly argued that the space for critical journalism has narrowed. Government representatives, on the other hand, maintain that India’s media landscape remains diverse, vibrant, and free. Electoral politics constitutes another important dimension of this debate. The BJP’s sustained electoral success is widely attributed to its highly organized party structure, the extensive grassroots network of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), sophisticated campaign strategies, an effective digital presence, and Prime Minister Modi’s personal popularity. Opposition parties, particularly the Indian National Congress, have repeatedly raised concerns regarding campaign financing, the alleged misuse of state institutions, voter registration practices in certain regions, and unequal political conditions. These competing narratives remain the subject of intense political contestation. Congress leader Rahul Gandhi has sought to counter the BJP’s political narrative through initiatives such as the Bharat Jodo Yatra and the Bharat Jodo Nyay Yatra. His central argument has been that India’s enduring strength lies in its constitutional democracy, religious pluralism, cultural diversity, and linguistic richness rather than in majoritarian politics. According to Gandhi, safeguarding constitutional institutions and preserving social cohesion are essential to India’s democratic future. Recent demonstrations, political mobilizations, and episodes of public unrest across different parts of the country have revived questions about whether India is entering a new phase of political transformation. Should these expressions of public discontent evolve into a broader nationwide movement, some analysts believe they could represent the most significant democratic mobilization since the Emergency imposed in 1975. Whether such a transformation materializes will ultimately depend on public participation, opposition unity, the state’s response, and the resilience of India’s constitutional institutions. Historically, India’s greatest strength has been its extraordinary civilizational diversity, religious pluralism, federal structure, and democratic traditions. If growing political divisions are not addressed through constitutional mechanisms, democratic dialogue, and the rule of law, their consequences may extend beyond India’s borders, affecting regional stability, economic cooperation, and prospects for peace across South Asia. The defining question, therefore, is not simply which political party will win the next election. Rather, it is whether India can preserve the foundational principles of its Constitution, democracy, federalism, religious freedom, the rule of law, and equal citizenship, for future generations. The answer to that question is likely to shape not only India’s political trajectory but also its role on the global stage in the decades ahead.