Is India on the brink of a new political transform…

Pakistan was achieved on the fourteenth of August in the year nineteen hundred and forty-seven, after sacrifices of a magnitude that still stir the soul and a struggle whose tirelessness remains an enduring lesson. Millions crossed borders in those turbulent months, leaving behind ancestral homes, familial graves, and the familiar soil of generations, so that a new homeland might rise where Muslims could live according to their faith and their free will. We stand now upon the threshold of the eighth decade of that hard-won independence. I, a Pakistani by birth and by conviction, have myself lived nearly fifty-eight years within the borders of this free land. This country conferred upon me an identity that no foreign power could erase, furnished me with the means of an independent existence—schools in which to learn, roads upon which to travel, markets in which to earn my bread—bestowed a measure of respect in the eyes of the world, and, in some degree, granted me a name among my fellows. Yet the question returns, quietly and persistently, like a debt long deferred; what have I given in return? Have I ever paused long enough, in the press of daily concerns, to weigh that debt with honesty? The same inquiry must be put, with equal seriousness and without partiality, to the institutions that were meant to serve as the pillars of the state, and to the rulers and authorities who have held power through these eighty years. What account can they render of their stewardship? Parliament was intended as the voice of the people; the courts as the guardians of justice; the civil service as the steady hand of administration; the universities as the nurseries of thought and character. Have these bodies discharged their duties with fidelity, or have they at times become arenas of personal ambition, partisan calculation, and the slow corrosion of public trust? The rulers who succeeded one another, whether civilian or military, received the same inheritance of soil, of people, and of hope. What have they added to the national store of justice, of prosperity, of self-respect, and of unity? The record is mixed, and the gaps are painful to contemplate. Have we, as a people, ever undertaken a true reckoning of our collective performance—not the ritual of speeches on national days, but a sober examination of conscience? And if such an accounting was made, did it lead to any genuine reformation of our ways, or did we merely resume the old habits once the anniversary had passed? Where, in truth, does Pakistan stand as a state at this present hour? We possess a land rich in rivers and fertile plains, a people endowed with resilience and talent, a strategic position that nature itself seems to have marked for consequence. Yet we continue to wrestle with the burdens of poverty that still touch too many homes, with the lingering shadows of disorder in parts of the country, with the uneasy balance between institutions that ought to complement one another, and with the persistent temptation to place private gain above the common good. Have we preserved, or have we frittered away, the sacred trust that our ancestors placed in our hands when they bequeathed us this country? That trust was not lightly given. It demanded vigilance against tyranny, honesty in public dealing, a willingness to educate the young in both knowledge and character, and a readiness to place the welfare of the whole above the advantage of the few. Looking back across the decades, one is compelled to ask whether that demand has been met in full measure. I do not exempt myself from this examination. For nearly six decades I have drawn from the well of national life—the protection of law, the opportunity to work and to speak, the simple privilege of calling myself a citizen of a free land. Have my contributions matched the gifts received? Have I laboured, in whatever sphere was allotted me, to strengthen rather than weaken the fabric of the republic? Have I spoken truth when silence was easier, practised fairness when partiality promised profit, and taught the rising generation that freedom is not a birthright to be consumed but a responsibility to be renewed? Honesty requires that each of us answer such questions in the solitude of his own heart, without the convenient shield of collective excuses or the comfortable habit of blaming those who came before. Enough, then, of evasion. The hour has come for every citizen, high or low, including the writer of these lines, to conduct a personal audit. Let each examine what he has taken and what he has returned. Let the institutions examine their fidelity to the purposes for which they were created. Let those who hold authority examine whether their decisions have served the enduring interests of the state or the fleeting interests of the moment. Only through such unsparing self-examination, followed by the hard work of reform, can the trust of the founders be renewed and the promise of Pakistan still be fulfilled for those who will inherit what we leave behind.

A man’s hand emerges from a moving car window on Lahore’s Ferozepur Road, opens, and lets go, garbage tumbling onto the road like something the city never asked for. He drives on, does not look back. Nearby, another man treats a red light as inconvenience, not command, and guns through it because the road, for one careless breath, looks empty, not realizing a motorcyclist is already crossing into that emptiness. Neither would call himself careless. Ask them, and they will say, with the confidence of the unexamined life, that they are decent, law-abiding citizens, and narrowly, they are not wrong. Neither has broken a law that will ever find them. What they are missing is something smaller than law and, in the end, far heavier: civic sense. Civic sense is a phrase worn smooth by overuse and rarely defined. It is not patriotism, that loud, flag-waving thing. It is not obedience, that bowed, fearful thing. It is, instead, a kind of seeing, the awareness that one’s actions ripple into rooms one will never enter: the neighbour’s wall, turned dumping ground; the footpath, swallowed by parked motorcycles, leaving the pedestrian nowhere to stand but the road; the river downstream, carrying someone else’s filth to a family that never asked for it. It is the quiet discipline of behaving as though other people exist and matter, even when no policeman stands at the corner. Pakistan is not short of laws. Karachi’s bylaws on waste disposal would look entirely respectable in any city hall in the world. Islamabad’s traffic regulations are detailed enough to please the most exacting planner. What is missing is not ink on paper but something beneath the skin: the private sense that a rule is worth keeping even when no one is watching. This is why civic sense cannot be legislated into being, however many statutes are stacked atop one another. You can fine a man for littering. You cannot fine him into loving the street he lives on. Take something as unremarkable as a queue. Anyone who has stood at a bank counter, a railway window, a hospital OPD here knows the choreography by heart: the line exists as an idea until someone decides their time outweighs everyone else’s, and it dissolves like sugar in water. This was never really about queues. It is about a deeper assumption: that public space belongs to no one in particular, and rules, somehow, are meant for other people. Multiply that across a city of ten million restless souls, and you get gridlock that swallows whole afternoons, bins overflowing like wounds left untended, and parks abandoned within a year of their own birth. There is a cost to all this, rarely counted honestly. Karachi bleeds away enormous productive hours each year to congestion worsened, not created, by drivers who treat lanes as suggestions and red lights as optional punctuation. Public health suffers when open drains and uncollected waste become nurseries for disease, an arithmetic residents of nearly every major Pakistani city have learned to expect each monsoon. None of this appears, tidy and legible, in a budget document. It appears in hospital wards, in wages lost to sick days, in a low-grade sense that public life is something to survive rather than inhabit. It would be convenient to lay the blame entirely at poverty or lack of schooling, and there is a grain of truth there; a person fighting daily to feed a family has little room left for civic virtue. But the explanation only carries so far. Plenty of well-off, well-schooled Pakistanis fling litter from car windows and treat public parks as private gardens annexed from the commons. Civic sense is not a simple function of income. It is a habit, built through repetition, example, and whatever a society quietly agrees to call normal. This is precisely where schools could do far more. Civic education in most Pakistani classrooms, where it exists at all, survives as a chapter memorized for an exam rather than a practice lived out. A child taught that littering is wrong, who watches the adults around her litter daily without flinching, will absorb the adults’ hands, not the textbook’s words. Civic sense must be modelled, not narrated: teachers who insist on a clean classroom, parents who do not fling wrappers from car windows in front of watching children, local governments that follow a complaint through to its end instead of letting it dissolve into some forgotten file. None of this demands grand reform. It demands a shift in what ordinary people find embarrassing. In cities where civic sense runs deep, a litterer feels a small, hot flush of shame, not because a fine is coming, but because it simply is not done, the way one does not spit at a wedding. That social pressure is more powerful, and far cheaper, than any enforcement machinery a government could design. Building it takes time, and begins small: a shopkeeper sweeping the pavement outside his door, a driver waiting his turn at a roundabout though no one would know if he cheated, a resident reporting a broken streetlight instead of learning to walk around the dark. Cities are not, in truth, built by planners and engineers alone. They are built street by street, choice by choice, by the accumulated decisions of the people who walk them. A country may possess the widest roads and tallest towers in the region and still feel chaotic if the people moving through them share no responsibility toward them. Civic sense is not a lesson for children, nor a slogan for a billboard. It is the invisible infrastructure, unseen and indispensable, that makes every other infrastructure actually work. The writer is serving as Director of the Institute of Humanities and Arts at Khwaja Fareed University of Engineering and Information Technology, Rahim Yar Khan, Pakistan.

In days of yore, the family stood as the unshakeable foundation of life, its fabric woven with threads of reverence, tenderness, and mutual reliance. The presence of elders within the home was regarded as a divine blessing, their wrinkled brows and measured words carrying the distilled wisdom of decades. They had seen seasons of plenty and seasons of want; their counsel was never hasty, but rooted in experience both sweet and bitter. Matters great and small—marriages, disputes, harvests, or the education of the young—were laid before the family circle. Voices rose and fell in earnest consultation, differences were aired with respect, and decisions emerged strengthened by collective thought. Sharing every joy doubled its brightness; confiding every sorrow lightened its burden. Such openness was not mere habit but a sacred trust, binding hearts as firmly as blood itself. Festivals like Eid shone as luminous expressions of this unity. Homes were cleansed with care, lamps lit, and the air filled with the aroma of special dishes prepared by loving hands. Families gathered in their finest attire, exchanging embraces that spoke louder than any words. Youngsters sought the elders’ blessings, pressing foreheads to hands worn by labour and prayer. Visiting relatives was no burdensome custom but a joyful obligation. One would travel dusty paths or crowded streets to enquire after an ailing uncle, to carry sweets to a widowed aunt, or to offer a strong shoulder in times of grief. To be useful in one another’s sorrows and celebrations was considered not charity but a natural duty, the very pulse of kinship. Then the world shifted. Modernity, with its ceaseless demands and glittering innovations, began to loosen these ancient ties. Technology arrived as a herald of progress, and the internet promised to shrink distances, allowing voices to reach across oceans in an instant. Yet in bridging the far, it often widened the gulf between those who dwelt beneath the same roof. The thoughtful purchase of Eid cards, selected with a discerning eye and inscribed with heartfelt sentiments penned in one’s own hand, has given way to instant messages generated by artificial intelligence—polished, abundant, yet strangely hollow. What once touched the soul now risks becoming mechanical routine. Worse still, we have turned our gaze outward, forgetting the sorrows and joys nearest to us. We scroll endlessly through the lives of strangers, offering likes and comments to people whose names we barely know, while the quiet struggles of our own parents or the silent longings of our children pass unnoticed. We share stirring posts about kindness, patience, and gratitude—words that stir the conscience for a fleeting moment—yet how rarely do we live even a fraction of their wisdom. Our digital connections resemble bubbles upon still water; shimmering, fragile, and empty at the core. They burst without warning, leaving behind only the memory of illusion. Within the walls of many homes today, a poignant scene unfolds. In one modest room, a father pores over his telephone, chasing distant conversations or business affairs. Beside him, the mother engages with images and voices from afar, her gentle smile reserved for the screen. The children, heads bent over glowing devices, laugh at jests from unknown companions or compete for admiration among virtual friends. Though seated within arm’s reach, they inhabit separate worlds. The warmth of real voices, the comfort of a shared glance, the simple pleasure of recounting the day’s small events—these have grown rare. We have learned the art of being present in absence, and absent in presence. The truth, spoken plainly, wounds the heart; we have changed profoundly. We know little of one another now beyond the bare fact that we yet live. The elder’s stories gather dust on forgotten shelves; the family consultation has fallen silent; the spontaneous visit to a relative’s home feels like an inconvenience rather than a delight. Our loved ones, who would stand beside us when fortune smiles or when tempests rage, receive only fragments of our attention. It is they, not the distant crowd, who truly matter. We must therefore resolve to reclaim the substance of life. Let us set aside the screens at certain hours, lift our eyes to those around us, and rediscover the irreplaceable value of real companionship. Let consultation return to the family table, visits become frequent once more, and festivals regain their former glow of devotion. Technology need not be our master; it can serve if we command it with wisdom. Only by nurturing the bonds with those who share our daily bread and our deepest affections can the family fabric regain its former strength and beauty. In such renewal lies our truest happiness, for the heart finds its home not in the applause of multitudes, but in the quiet fidelity of kin.

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

Today, the world faces unprecedented challenges, including the spread of unbridled unilateralism, the weakening of the fundamental principles of the United Nations Charter, the illegal recourse to force, the imposition of unilateral and indiscriminate sanctions, and the instrumental use of economic and financial mechanisms to exert political pressure. Members of the international system, particularly states as its primary actors, must defend multilateralism, respect for national sovereignty, sovereign equality of states, and the rule of law in international relations. Since June 2025, the nation of the Islamic Republic of Iran has experienced its bitterest days. The martyrdom of the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Revolution—as the highest political and religious authority of the Islamic Republic of Iran—the tragic attack on the Minab school resulting in the martyrdom of 168 school children, the testing of America’s latest lethal weapons and cluster missiles in the attack on the city of Lamerd in Fars Province and the indiscriminate assassination of its defenseless people, along with attacks on medical and healthcare facilities, educational environments, and universities, and the continuation of these crimes demonstrate that when a superpower turns rogue, international peace and security are put at risk. By imposing war, the U.S. government has driven several rounds of negotiations with Iran into a deadlock. The mediatory efforts of Pakistan to restore peace and tranquility to the region are commendable, and Iran has respected this vital role. It is crystal clear that wars are always initiated by one side, but ending them requires the presence and role of both warring parties. If the Americans, who imposed this war, desire to end it, they must respect the Pakistan Memorandum of Understanding and stop trying to impose peace on Iran through their own self-authored rules. However, it appears the United States seeks to dictate its demands upon Iran, whether through war or through peace. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. The Americans want everything at once and afford no standing to the opposing side. The blatant violation of the terms of the Pakistan MoU, continued attacks on transportation infrastructure, drinking water facilities, fishing boats, local commercial vessels, meteorological centers, and other civilian infrastructure are clear instances of violations of international law and international humanitarian law, as well as a stark example of the ongoing policy of resort to force and disregard for international obligations. The Islamic Republic of Iran underscores its firm resolve to defend its sovereignty, independence, and territorial integrity. The U.S. government is an untrustworthy and law-defying regime that does not adhere to international rules, regulations, and agreements. For this reason, many political analysts believe that U.S. conduct regarding West Asian regional issues poses a threat to the stability of the international community. What Trump has been asserting since last year regarding a U.S. victory and the defeat of Iranian military forces is merely a strategic mirage; continuing Trump’s self-destructive policies will pull America into a deep quagmire, demonstrating that they lack a proper understanding and perception of Iran’s history and its people. Direct U.S. intervention in the implementation of security and maritime arrangements in the Strait of Hormuz, alongside the re-imposition of a naval blockade, has once again endangered the security of one of the world’s most strategic waterways and disrupted the normal flow of international commercial shipping. The principled policy of the Islamic Republic of Iran has always been grounded in dialogue, diplomacy, good-neighborliness, and regional cooperation. We firmly believe that lasting peace will only be realized when aggression, occupation, threats, and double standards give way to mutual respect, the impartial execution of international law, and genuine commitment to international obligations. Although the Islamabad Memorandum of Understanding was signed by the presidents of both Iran and the United States, neighboring and regional countries—especially the Arab states of the southern Persian Gulf, acting as “Middle Eastern allies” of the U.S. government—are required under Articles 1 and 2 of this agreement to cooperate toward an immediate and permanent end to the war and the establishment and maintenance of peace. These countries must not forget that their territories were used to commit aggression against the Islamic Republic of Iran, and that such acts of aggression persist. Whether the territory of these nations was placed at the disposal of the United States, or the United States exploited their territory against Iran without their consent, makes no difference, as ultimately their facilities and capabilities were utilized against us. Consequently, these states form part of the war front against Iran, and they too must remain faithful to the Pakistan MoU. Brad Cooper, Commander of United States Central Command (CENTCOM), explicitly announced the involvement of several Persian Gulf Cooperation Council (PGCC) member states and Jordan in the United States’ military aggression against Iran. If this claim is merely a falsehood, these countries must officially and transparently refute it. The pervasive insecurity and raging fires across the region are the exclusive byproduct of continuous aggression against Iran, and regrettably, the territory of certain states serves these destabilizing actions. The Islamic Republic of Iran reserves its inherent right to self-defense to protect itself. We hope our neighboring countries reach a common understanding that the actions taken by Iran do not stem from hostility toward regional nations. We all believe that we are neighbors and will remain neighbors. Iran has repeatedly emphasized the logic of a “Strong Region,” believing that the entire region must become powerful—a region capable of resolving its own issues and challenges without relying on foreign forces, which are themselves the source of instability and insecurity. This region is a shared home; its security belongs to all its nations, and everyone must endeavor to create and maintain peace, security, and prosperity.

The 4th Shusha Global Media Forum themed “The Mission of the Media in Promoting Peace: Restoring Truth and Rebuilding Trust” was held in the city of Shusha, the Republic of Azerbaijan. More than 160 journalists and media representatives from 54 countries attended the forum, with participants from 30 international news agencies and 60 major media organizations. The forum gave journalists, media experts, editors and public officials a chance to come together and discuss how the media can help build a more peaceful and informed world. This is a very important forum, because it attracted attention to the growing role of Azerbaijan in the world. It was also the reflection of Azerbaijan’s remarkable development under the leadership of His Excellency President Ilham Aliyev. A few days back, Azerbaijan hosted World Urban Forum 2026, then Baku Energy Week 2026, and now the 4th Shusha Global Media Forum was held in Azerbaijan. The success rate and the widespread participation in all these international forums show that Azerbaijan is a trusted member of international community and is emerging as a key regional player. It is worth mentioning that the forum was held in Shusha, a city in Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan. The choice of holding the forum in Karabakh region is extremely significant. Thanks to the forum that journalists from around the world were able to see how the government of Azerbaijan managed to rebuild this war-torn region within just five years. The city of Shusha served as the symbol of renewal. The 4th Shusha Global Media Forum is important as it brought together voices from different countries to discuss the future of global media. The discussions focused on how the social media and news are changing. What new challenges are being faced by the journalists and media across the world and how all countries can work together to address these challenges. At the same time forum also explored how journalism is adapting to artificial intelligence, disinformation and declining public trust, with discussions focusing on responsible reporting, media ethics and international dialogue. It provided a great opportunity to journalists and media experts from across the globe to directly engage with the President of Azerbaijan and ask him questions directly. The forum highlighted how today’s media is being transformed by AI, digital communication, and the growing spread of misinformation. Participants also discussed how they can uphold principles of ethical journalism and ensure factual and accurate reporting in this era of technological advancement. They also discussed how they can make people trust the media more, in what ways media and governments should respond to false or misleading information. It should be noted that the experts highlighted both the challenges and opportunities presented by digital media and the artificial intelligence. When they discussed the misuse of AI, they also talked about how AI should be used responsibly in journalism and media. It shows the responsible attitude of both the participants and the leadership of Azerbaijan that they brought such important topic under discussion. The forum also underscored that media is not just for reporting events but it plays a pivotal role in building trust encouraging dialogue and promoting understanding between nations. The role of the leadership of Azerbaijan in hosting the Global Media Forum for the 4th time is highly commendable. Creating such an engaging international platform at a time when the global information environment is becoming more complex deserves immense praise. The forum also paved the way for cultural exchange, dialogue, and increased human connectivity as people from diverse backgrounds attended the event. The most interesting and the strongest feature of the Shusha Global Media Forum, I believe, is its openness to different viewpoints. It provides equal opportunity to all the participants to ask questions, share their experiences, give new ideas, and discuss pressing global issues in a professional environment. Such opportunities encourage honest conversations and result in some pragmatic ideas that can actually help address various challenges and fight disinformation. These discussions are very important as news travels faster than ever before and public trust in media remains a global concern. Another highlight of the forum was the use of artificial intelligence in journalism, how is AI both an opportunity and a challenge for the journalism. At the forum, experts discussed the role of AI in news production, fact-checking and content creation. They agreed that technology is helpful in improving efficiency but it can never replace human judgment, moral standards, and accurate reporting done by humans. The exchange of ideas on these topics reflected Azerbaijan’s readiness to host conversations on issues that are shaping the future of global communication. A particularly positive aspect of the event was the participation of media representatives from wide range of countries. All of them came together to discuss common challenges, exchange ideas and share knowledge. Such platforms, dialogues, and collaborations help reduce misunderstanding between societies. Professional connections are built and already existing networks are strengthened. Meanwhile, such platforms also open new areas of cooperation and create opportunities for future collaborations. It also allows participants to learn from one another’s experiences in dealing with rapidly changing media environments. When His Excellency President Ilham Aliyev addressed the forum he talked about peace, regional advancements, connectivity and the increasing importance of dialogue and communication. H.E.’s participation made it clear that Azerbaijani leadership will always support international discussions on media and global affairs. Moreover, the senior government officials were also present at the forum. Their presence demonstrated Azerbaijan’s efforts to maintain direct engagement with the international media community. With the passage of time, the Shusha Global Media Forum has evolved into a respected international platform for discussing the future of journalism and strengthening media cooperation. Its significance lies in the fact that it offers an opportunity to media professionals to come together and discuss and timely resolve the pressing challenges global media is facing. The continued success of the forum showcases Azerbaijan’s commitment to promoting dialogue, responsible journalism, and global engagement.