Islamabad’s carriage ride

Pakistan today stands at a defining moment where acts of intolerance, hate speech, mob violence, sectarian divisions and ideological polarisation are increasingly visible across both physical and digital spaces. While not every expression of intolerance translates into terrorism, history demonstrates that violent extremism rarely appears overnight; it gradually develops through unchecked prejudice, manipulated narratives and the normalisation of hatred. Every incident of mob lynching, religious intolerance, political violence or online radicalisation serves as a reminder that extremism is fundamentally a societal challenge before it becomes a security challenge. This reality demands a fundamental shift in national thinking from merely controlling violent behaviour after it erupts to cultivating a culture of peace, critical thinking, social cohesion and democratic values that prevents extremism from taking root in the first place. The controlling approach has historically dominated Pakistan’s national security doctrine. Following the Army Public School tragedy in December 2014, the National Action Plan (NAP) became the country’s principal counterterrorism framework. Security operations such as Zarb-e-Azb and Radd-ul-Fasaad significantly weakened organised terrorist networks and restored the writ of the state in several conflict-affected regions. These achievements cannot be underestimated. However, extremism is not merely a security problem; it is a social, psychological, educational and communication challenge. Arresting militants may eliminate immediate threats, but it does not necessarily eliminate the narratives, grievances and social environments that produce future extremists. Modern countering violent extremism (CVE) literature increasingly supports prevention over reaction. International experience from countries such as Indonesia, Singapore, Denmark and Morocco demonstrates that sustainable peace emerges through education reforms, community engagement, youth empowerment, digital literacy, responsible religious discourse and economic inclusion. Pakistan itself has gradually begun recognising this shift. The recently approved National Prevention of Violent Extremism (NPVE) Policy reflects an important transition from exclusively kinetic responses towards prevention, rehabilitation and resilience-building. The policy introduces a comprehensive prevention framework emphasising community participation, education, strategic communication, rehabilitation and institutional coordination. At the federal level, the National Counter Terrorism Authority (NACTA) remains Pakistan’s principal coordinating institution for counterterrorism and counter-extremism policies. Established under the NACTA Act 2013, its mandate extends beyond intelligence coordination to include research, policy development, monitoring the National Action Plan, public awareness, strategic communication and prevention of violent extremism. During the past two years, NACTA has expanded partnerships with universities, international organisations and civil society. It has launched the National Prevention of Violent Extremism Policy, strengthened monitoring mechanisms, promoted research through the Pakistan Journal of Terrorism Research, signed academic partnerships and introduced public engagement initiatives such as peace festivals and youth outreach programmes. Despite these encouraging developments, NACTA continues to face structural limitations that reduce its overall effectiveness. Institutional coordination between federal and provincial stakeholders remains inconsistent. Budgetary constraints, staffing shortages and overlapping mandates with provincial Counter Terrorism Departments often weaken implementation. Many of its policy recommendations remain stronger on paper than in practice because execution depends upon provincial governments. Furthermore, public visibility of NACTA remains limited. Most Pakistani citizens know little about its preventive work, despite the fact that ideological resilience requires continuous public engagement rather than bureaucratic coordination alone. Independent researchers have similarly concluded that Pakistan’s transition towards non-kinetic counter-extremism is promising but still constrained by implementation deficits and institutional fragmentation. Punjab has taken a significant institutional step by establishing the Punjab Centre of Excellence on Countering Violent Extremism (CoE-CVE), which recently received autonomous legal status through provincial legislation. The decision reflects an important understanding that violent extremism cannot be addressed solely through policing. The Centre has been designed to function as a policy, research, training and coordination platform supporting prevention, community resilience and strategic communication. Its transformation into an autonomous institution is expected to strengthen institutional continuity, inter-agency coordination and evidence-based policymaking. The Centre represents one of Pakistan’s most important experiments in moving from control towards cultivation. Instead of focusing exclusively on arrests and surveillance, it aims to understand why individuals become vulnerable to extremist narratives in the first place. Universities, educational institutions, media organisations, religious scholars, psychologists and community leaders are increasingly recognised as partners in prevention rather than passive observers. This multidisciplinary philosophy aligns with global best practices, where prevention begins in classrooms, families, workplaces and digital platforms long before security agencies become involved. Nevertheless, the Punjab Centre of Excellence also faces considerable challenges. Being a relatively new institution, measurable outcomes remain limited. Much of its work has concentrated on institutional development, stakeholder engagement and policy formulation rather than long-term behavioural impact. Evaluating prevention programmes presents an inherent methodological challenge because successful prevention often means that negative events never occur. Unlike policing statistics, cultivation outcomes such as increased social cohesion, reduced intolerance or strengthened democratic resilience require longitudinal research and sophisticated impact measurement. Pakistan’s educational system presents another critical weakness. Schools continue to prioritise examination performance while giving limited attention to civic education, media literacy, conflict resolution, emotional intelligence and critical thinking. Extremist organisations thrive where young people lack analytical skills and become vulnerable to simplified narratives dividing society into absolute categories of believers and enemies. A cultivation approach therefore requires curriculum reforms encouraging dialogue, diversity, constitutional values and peaceful disagreement. The digital environment further complicates Pakistan’s counter-extremism landscape. Radicalisation increasingly occurs through encrypted messaging applications, algorithm-driven social media platforms and transnational online networks. Traditional security institutions cannot effectively monitor every digital interaction. Instead, digital resilience must be cultivated among citizens themselves. Media literacy programmes teaching young people to identify misinformation, hate speech, manipulation and extremist propaganda should become integral components of educational policy. Economic marginalisation also deserves attention. Poverty alone does not create terrorists, but unemployment, social exclusion and limited upward mobility increase vulnerability to recruitment by extremist organisations offering identity, purpose and financial incentives. Pakistan’s youth bulge therefore represents both an opportunity and a risk. If properly educated, employed and politically included, young Pakistanis can become the country’s greatest peacebuilders. If neglected, the same demographic may remain susceptible to polarisation and radical narratives. Political polarisation constitutes another growing concern. Public discourse increasingly rewards confrontation over consensus. Television debates, social media campaigns and partisan rhetoric often

By Noreen Raza Pakistan’s waste challenge is no longer only a question of sanitation; it has become a question of climate resilience, environmental governance, resource security, and sustainable development. For decades, waste management has largely been viewed as a municipal responsibility focused on collection, transportation, and disposal. However, the realities of climate change, rapid urbanization, resource depletion, and ecosystem degradation require a fundamental shift in approach. Pakistan’s future waste strategy cannot depend only on moving waste from one place to another. It must transition from a linear “take, make, and dispose” model towards a circular economy where materials are valued, recovered, and reused. The urgency of this transformation is evident from Pakistan’s increasing climate vulnerability. The devastating floods of 2022 demonstrated how environmental challenges can quickly become national development crises. According to the World Bank-led Post-Disaster Needs Assessment, the floods affected approximately 33 million people, caused damages exceeding US$14.9 billion, and resulted in economic losses of around US$15.2 billion. The disaster highlighted the importance of climate-resilient infrastructure, improved planning, and stronger environmental management. Although climate disasters are often associated with extreme weather events, poor environmental management can increase their impacts. Plastic waste blocking drainage systems, unmanaged dumping sites, and pollution of waterways can worsen urban flooding and damage ecosystems. Waste management, therefore, should not be treated as an isolated municipal service; it must become an essential component of Pakistan’s climate adaptation strategy. The traditional linear economic model has created significant environmental pressures. Extracting resources, producing goods, consuming them, and disposing of waste after use places continuous stress on natural systems. Open dumping and uncontrolled disposal contribute to soil and water contamination, while organic waste decomposing in unmanaged sites releases methane, a powerful greenhouse gas. Open burning of waste further contributes to air pollution and creates risks for public health. The global waste challenge is also increasing. The World Bank’s What a Waste 3.0 report highlights that global municipal solid waste generation reached approximately 2.56 billion tons in 2022 and could increase to 3.86 billion tons by 2050 under a business-as-usual scenario. Developing regions, including South Asia, face growing pressure due to rising waste volumes and limited waste management capacity. Pakistan faces similar challenges. Population growth, expanding urban areas, changing consumption patterns, and increasing use of packaged products are contributing to rising waste generation. However, limited segregation at source, insufficient recycling infrastructure, and inadequate resource recovery systems prevent waste from being transformed into valuable materials. This challenge also represents an opportunity. Waste should no longer be considered only an environmental burden; it must be recognized as a resource that can support climate mitigation, economic development, and sustainable resource management. A circular economy provides a practical pathway towards this transformation. Unlike the linear model, circular systems focus on preventing waste generation, extending product life cycles, promoting reuse and repair, increasing recycling, and recovering valuable resources. Such approaches reduce dependence on virgin materials, conserve natural resources, and support cleaner economic growth. The benefits of circularity extend beyond municipal waste. Industrial and agricultural waste streams also contain valuable resources that are often overlooked. Organic waste can be converted into compost or used for energy recovery. Recyclable materials can return to production cycles, reducing pressure on natural resources. Construction waste can be recovered for infrastructure development, while improved wastewater management can support water conservation and resource recovery. Pakistan’s industries provide important examples of this opportunity. Several industrial by-products can potentially be converted into useful resources rather than being treated as waste. Ash generated from industrial processes, including power generation and agro-based industries, has potential applications in cement production, construction materials, and other resource recovery pathways. Similarly, agricultural residues such as bagasse ash from sugar industries and rice husk ash can be utilized through appropriate technologies. However, due to limited awareness, inadequate recovery systems, weak industrial linkages, and insufficient technical guidance, many such materials continue to accumulate in open storage areas or are disposed of near agricultural lands. These practices may create environmental concerns, including dust pollution, land degradation, and risks to surrounding ecosystems. Transforming these materials into productive inputs requires stronger collaboration between industries, regulators, researchers, and end users. The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), through its Global Waste Management Outlook 2024, emphasizes that sustainable waste management requires moving away from disposal-focused approaches towards prevention, resource efficiency, and circular economy solutions. However, Pakistan’s transition towards circularity cannot depend only on technology. Strong environmental governance must remain the foundation of sustainable waste management. Effective coordination among federal, provincial, and local institutions, improved regulatory enforcement, reliable environmental data, and climate-informed planning are essential. Environmental Impact Assessments (EIAs), environmental monitoring systems, and compliance mechanisms play an important role in ensuring that waste-related infrastructure operates responsibly throughout its lifecycle. Waste management should also be integrated with urban planning, industrial development, water management, and climate policies. Technology can further strengthen this transition. Geographic Information Systems (GIS), remote sensing, satellite monitoring, and digital reporting platforms can improve waste mapping, identify illegal dumping areas, optimize collection systems, and support evidence-based environmental decision-making. A sustainable circular economy must also be socially inclusive. Across Pakistan, informal waste workers contribute significantly to recycling and material recovery, yet many work under unsafe conditions without adequate protection or formal recognition. A just transition should integrate these workers into formal systems through training, occupational safety measures, and improved livelihood opportunities. Women should also be recognized as important contributors to emerging green sectors. Expanding opportunities for women in recycling enterprises, environmental entrepreneurship, and community-based sustainability initiatives can strengthen both environmental outcomes and social inclusion. Public participation remains equally important. Governments cannot achieve circularity alone. Communities, industries, educational institutions, and civil society must contribute through waste segregation, responsible consumption, reduction of single-use plastics, and environmental awareness. Pakistan’s climate commitments and sustainable development objectives require integrated solutions that connect waste management with biodiversity conservation, pollution control, resource efficiency, and climate resilience. Circular economy principles should become part of national and provincial development planning rather than being viewed only as a waste sector initiative. The success of Pakistan’s waste sector should

(When the water rises, who shows up and who is left waiting?) ‎I live in Sabzazar, a neighborhood in Lahore, Pakistan, but part of my heart is always sitting along the banks of the Moxahala Creek back home in Southeast Ohio. When the water rises in Muskingum County or the Punjab plains, who shows up, and who is left waiting? I live in Sabzazar, a neighborhood in Lahore, Pakistan, but part of my heart is always sitting along the banks of the Moxahala Creek back home in Southeast Ohio. ‎ ‎My mother and brother still live right near South Zanesville, just a stone’s throw from Crooksville. When heavy rains hit Perry and Muskingum counties, I don’t need to be there to know what it looks like. I can picture the heavy, chocolate-brown water backing up into the low spots, the damp chill that settles into a basement, the fears of what if the waters reach a house trailer, and that specific, exhausting smell of river mud that takes weeks to scrub out of porch boards and carpet. The worries of if the home has structural damage.. Halfway across the world in Pakistan, the landscape couldn’t look more different. But when monsoon season swells the rivers across the Punjab, the view from the ground is hauntingly identical. ‎ ‎Standing in a flooded doorway feels the same whether you are in Ohio or Lahore. The quiet shock is the same. The ruin of things you worked years to buy is the same. And the very first instinct is to grab your coat, shovel, a chainsaw and a pair of boots and go check on the elderly woman next door.. Start hauling wet furniture, debris to the curb and giving comfort, food and basics to those in need is entirely universal. Watching both worlds at once makes you look at governance differently. It strips away abstract political jargon and leaves you asking one fundamental question: When a community is hit with a crisis, does its system build capable people who can act, or does it leave them sitting on their hands, waiting for permission to survive? ‎ ‎What a Small Ohio Village Taught Me About Governance ‎ ‎Growing up around South Zanesville and Crooksville, you learn pretty early that small-town life relies on a very specific kind of quiet, distributed agency. ‎Crooksville isn’t a rich town. It’s a hard-working Appalachian village of under 1,500 people. But when the creek overflows, nobody sits around waiting for a press conference out of Washington, D.C., or a mandate from the state capital in Columbus. ‎ ‎The response moves in waves because the connections are already wired: ‎On the local levels we see neighbor checks on neighbor. The volunteer fire department turns on the sirens, pulls out the high-water gear, and starts the door to door knocks. At the County level we have the Perry County 911 dispatch and Emergency Management Agency (EMA) start tracking water levels and routing equipment where it’s needed most. At the State level, If the county gets overwhelmed, pre set legal triggers immediately call in the Ohio EMA or the National Guard. ‎ ‎Government here doesn’t replace the community’s instinct to help itself; it validates it, organizes it, and backs it up with real resources. The system trusts the people on the ground to know their own roads. Here in Pakistan, the human spirit is just as generous, if not more so. The impulse toward hospitality, neighborly charity, and mutual support runs incredibly deep. When disaster strikes, ordinary citizens open their wallets and their homes without a second thought. It’s just what they do… ‎ ‎And Pakistan’s has one of the world’s top class military engineering, a massive national disaster agency (the NDMA), and incredible private charities. The raw capacity is immense. Yet, too often, there is a however a very heartbreaking disconnect between that high-level power and the family standing in ankle deep water in a local neighborhood. An ordinary citizen here once described the country to me using a metaphor I’ve never forgotten: a child that was never allowed to stand on its own feet. An infant isn’t helpless because it lacks potential. It’s helpless because it hasn’t been given the space to build muscle, fall over, adjust its balance, and try again. If an authority figure picks the child up every single time it tries to pull itself up, the child never learns to walk—not from a lack of ability, but because the environment denied it the chance to build strength. ‎ ‎That is how systemic learned dependency takes root: Central authorities assume total control, bypassing local municipal councils. Neighborhoods are given no real budget or authority to fix their own drainage or organize local response teams. And when a flood comes, citizens have no choice but to wait for distant, top-down relief. The authorities look at the waiting crowd and say, “See? The people can’t manage without us.” ‎We witness power centralized even further, deepening the exact helplessness it claims to fix. Over generations, people adapt to the system they are given. If a system rewards waiting for a political patron, people learn to wait for patrons. If it rewards local initiative, communities build habits of self-reliance. It is very easy to blame culture or public apathy for civic passivity, but that misses the point entirely. Culture simply reflects the structural incentives people are given to survive and adapt. It is nature vs nurture and we have a break down when these two things fail to promote a cohesiveness and inclusion of what is a community and what that actually means. ‎ ‎Across the globe, the relationship between state control and citizen participation varies wildly, proving that central authority does not have to mean public powerlessness. In China, a deeply centralized state framework actively structures and expects local neighborhood committees and civil volunteer groups to manage community-level crises. Across much of Europe, comprehensive state safety nets exist alongside highly empowered municipal councils and professionalized local volunteer forces.

The debate over the creation of new administrative units and provinces in Pakistan has once again occupied the national discourse after Federal Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi declared that the country’s existing governance system had “collapsed” and argued that governance must be brought closer to the people through new administrative units. His remarks have revived an issue that has periodically surfaced since independence but has rarely moved beyond political rhetoric. While some interpreted his statement as a call for creating additional provinces, others argued that he was advocating broader administrative restructuring. Regardless of terminology, the debate has exposed the structural weaknesses of Pakistan’s governance architecture and compelled policymakers, constitutional experts and political parties to revisit an important question: can Pakistan continue to be governed effectively under its existing administrative framework, or has demographic growth, urban expansion and governance complexity made institutional restructuring unavoidable?  Pakistan today is home to more than 250 million people, yet it continues to function primarily through four provinces established under historical rather than administrative considerations. At independence in 1947, the population and governance challenges were dramatically different. Since then, urbanisation, economic diversification, internal migration and increasing demands for public services have transformed governance requirements. Provincial capitals often remain geographically and administratively distant from citizens living in peripheral districts. Residents of South Punjab, Hazara, southern Balochistan, merged districts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and interior Sindh frequently complain that decision-making remains concentrated in provincial capitals, resulting in unequal development, delayed service delivery and inadequate representation. Mohsin Naqvi’s argument rests on the proposition that governance has become excessively centralised and that citizens are compelled to travel long distances merely to access basic government services, courts and administrative offices. He further argued that countries with expanding populations have responded by creating additional administrative units rather than maintaining outdated structures. Whether one agrees with his assessment or not, his central observation deserves serious consideration because governance effectiveness is measured not by the size of government but by the accessibility, responsiveness and accountability of institutions.  The debate itself is not new. Successive governments have proposed South Punjab Province, Bahawalpur Province, Hazara Province and even administrative restructuring in Karachi and Balochistan. Parliamentary resolutions regarding South Punjab have previously been adopted, yet constitutional consensus has remained elusive. Political parties have often supported new provinces while in opposition but have shown considerably less enthusiasm after assuming power. Consequently, proposals have become election slogans rather than governance reforms.  Critics of creating new provinces argue that administrative fragmentation alone cannot solve governance failures. They point out that Pakistan’s primary problem is not necessarily the number of provinces but weak institutions, bureaucratic inefficiency, political interference, corruption and inconsistent implementation of laws. According to this perspective, multiplying provinces without institutional reform merely replicates existing inefficiencies across additional administrative boundaries. New provincial governments would require assemblies, governors, chief ministers, secretariats, police structures, judicial infrastructure and enormous recurring financial expenditures. Unless accompanied by governance reforms, decentralisation may simply increase administrative costs without improving public service delivery. Supporters, however, contend that administrative proximity improves governance outcomes. Comparative international experience demonstrates that countries such as India have periodically reorganised states to improve administrative efficiency and political representation. Smaller administrative jurisdictions often enable faster decision-making, improved monitoring, stronger accountability and more equitable distribution of development resources. Citizens generally experience better governance when government institutions are physically and administratively closer to them. These arguments have gained renewed attention following Naqvi’s intervention.  However, the current debate suffers from one significant omission. It largely ignores Pakistan’s weakest democratic institution: local government. Before creating additional provinces, policymakers must honestly evaluate why local governments have repeatedly failed. Pakistan has experimented with local government systems under different constitutional and political arrangements, yet these institutions have rarely been allowed to function independently and consistently. Elected local governments are frequently dissolved, elections are delayed and financial autonomy remains severely restricted. Provincial governments often resist devolving meaningful authority because local governments are perceived as political competitors rather than governance partners. This brings the issue of local body elections to the centre of the discussion. The Constitution envisions democratic decentralisation, yet local government elections have remained irregular across several provinces. In many cases, elected councils complete only partial terms or remain financially dependent upon provincial governments. Consequently, citizens seeking municipal services, sanitation, water supply, local roads, building regulation or community development frequently confront administrative paralysis. A country that struggles to sustain functioning local governments cannot realistically expect that merely creating additional provinces will automatically improve governance. The experience of Pakistan’s devolution reforms provides valuable lessons. The Local Government reforms introduced in the early 2000s attempted to decentralise authority by empowering districts and local councils. Although those reforms had weaknesses and generated political controversy, they demonstrated that bringing government closer to citizens can improve responsiveness when accompanied by fiscal authority, administrative autonomy and institutional accountability. Unfortunately, subsequent governments reversed or weakened many of these arrangements, resulting in repeated cycles of centralisation and decentralisation. Political reactions to Mohsin Naqvi’s proposal reflect Pakistan’s broader constitutional divisions. Some leaders have welcomed discussion on governance reform while supporting greater administrative decentralisation. Others have questioned both the timing and constitutional implications of the proposal, expressing concerns that restructuring provinces without broad political consensus could intensify ethnic, linguistic and regional sensitivities. There are also concerns that debates over provincial boundaries could distract attention from more immediate governance priorities, including economic recovery, inflation, institutional reforms and electoral credibility. The political diversity of these reactions demonstrates that constitutional restructuring cannot succeed through executive statements alone; it requires sustained parliamentary dialogue, provincial participation and national consensus.  The constitutional dimension cannot be overlooked. Creating new provinces requires constitutional amendments and political agreement among federal and provincial stakeholders. Such reforms inevitably involve questions relating to resource distribution, National Finance Commission allocations, Senate representation, civil service restructuring, judicial jurisdictions and provincial assets. Therefore, any attempt to redraw administrative boundaries without extensive consultation risks generating political instability rather than administrative efficiency. The opportunities nevertheless remain significant. Properly designed administrative restructuring could reduce regional disparities, improve public service delivery, enhance

Calling Babarloi Bypass the “Strait of Hormuz of Sindh” would not be an exaggeration. In Sindh’s nationalist political discourse, the name Babarloi Bypass has repeatedly resurfaced in connection with the “Babarloi Dharna” (sit-in). Babarloi is an ancient settlement in Khairpur district. According to historical accounts, including Tareekh-e-Masoomi and Tarkhan Nama, this was the place where Mughal Emperor Humayun, after being defeated by Sher Shah Suri and forced into exile, stayed for nearly six months before heading towards Iran. Today, Babarloi Bypass has emerged as a crucial junction on the National Highway N-5. This strategic corridor connects Sindh with Punjab, Balochistan and upper Sindh, making it a vital artery for trade and transportation. Economically, Punjab and Sindh are deeply interdependent. On one hand, Punjab relies on Sindh for imported goods arriving through Karachi’s ports, including machinery, industrial raw material, chemicals and electronics. It also depends on Sindh for the transportation of oil and petroleum products, as some of Pakistan’s major oil refineries and import terminals are located in Sindh. On the other hand, Sindh depends heavily on Punjab for wheat, flour, sugar, textiles, engineering goods, agricultural products, poultry, dairy and other food supplies. However, in comparative terms, blocking Babarloi Bypass on the N-5 route would cause a far greater economic disruption to Punjab than to Sindh because of Punjab’s larger dependence on this transit corridor for trade flows. Whether the issue is the controversial six-canal project or the debate over the creation of new provinces, some political stakeholders in Sindh view Babarloi Bypass as a pressure point against Punjab and the federal government. Their strategy has been to send a message that before raising questions about the division of Sindh, Punjab and the federation must recognise the consequences of alienating the province. For these groups, Babarloi Bypass has become Sindh’s equivalent of a strategic pressure point — a place through which pressure can be exerted on the federal centre. Last year, a major protest was staged at Babarloi Bypass (Khairpur, Sindh) against the federal government’s proposed project to construct six new canals from the Indus River. The eleven-day sit-in, organised by lawyers, nationalist parties, farmers’ organisations and civil society groups, continued from April 18 to April 29, 2025. As a result, the National Highway N-5 remained blocked at Babarloi Bypass, disrupting movement between Sindh and Punjab. The transportation of goods was almost suspended, affecting supplies of vegetables, fruits, cotton, rice and other agricultural commodities to Punjab. Several industries faced delays in receiving raw materials, while hundreds of trucks remained stranded for days, causing losses worth millions of rupees to transporters and traders. The protest eventually ended after negotiations between a delegation of the Sindh government and the lawyers’ action committee. The agreement included the following assurances: The Council of Common Interests (CCI) would decide the future of the controversial canal project, and no progress would be made without consensus among all provinces. The government assured the issuance of an official notification addressing the lawyers’ demands and promised to provide relevant legal documents. The Babarloi Dharna was considered one of the significant political protests of 2025 because it increased pressure on the federal government, disrupted the land link between Sindh and Punjab for several days, and played a role in bringing the canal issue back to the platform of the Council of Common Interests.   The following year, Babarloi Bypass once again became the centre of a major protest. On July 23, 2026, a second sit-in was staged, this time not against the canal project but to demand the recovery of 27 missing children from Sindh, including the high-profile case of Priya Kumari. The protest was attended by lawyers, civil society activists, nationalist political workers, families of missing children and ordinary citizens. During the protest, the debate over the creation of new provinces, particularly from Karachi and federal circles, once again gained momentum. As a result, Sindh’s nationalist politics was once again seen aligning itself with anti-centre and anti-Punjab sentiments during the demonstration. Moreover, some separatist elements reportedly raised slogans such as “Pakistan Na Khappe” (We do not want Pakistan) and “Pakistan Murdabad” (Down with Pakistan) during the sit-in. However, unlike the previous year, the protest was brought to an end by the Sindh government with the assistance of police authorities. The Babarlo police, in their own account of the incident, accused the protesters of obstructing police vehicles, resorting to stone-pelting, and raising anti-Pakistan slogans during the standoff. According to reports, police took action to disperse the protesters, several individuals were arrested, and later cases were registered against 13 named persons and around 150 unidentified individuals under various provisions, including anti-terrorism laws. The manner in which the Sindh government dealt with this year’s sit-in suggests a different political approach compared to nationalist leaders. It indicates that the provincial government was reluctant to escalate tensions with either the Punjab government or the Pakistan Peoples Party’s political partners at the federal level. The Sindh government also appeared unwilling to allow the closure of Babarloi Bypass to turn the issue into a larger confrontation. The PPP leadership is aware that preventing child abductions and ensuring the recovery of missing children is primarily the responsibility of the Sindh government; neither Punjab nor the federal government can be held directly accountable for such matters. Therefore, before nationalist groups could create a situation that might politically embarrass the PPP at the federal level, the Sindh government moved to end the sit-in and restrict the influence of protest organisers. Whether the two major political parties have reached an understanding behind closed doors under the spirit of the Charter of Democracy remains a matter of speculation. However, the way both parties continue to engage in verbal confrontations during the Azad Jammu and Kashmir elections appears, to some observers, to be part of a broader political strategy.