Mistaken Credit to a Bank Account: Legal Position

The most pitiable creature I know is not the beggar who asks for bread but the gentleman who must borrow a personality. He dresses in another man’s taste, speaks in another man’s phrases and mistakes imitation for refinement. He is everywhere respectable and nowhere original. Nations occasionally acquire the same unfortunate habit. Their politics become echoes, their ideals reflections, and their revolutions little more than borrowed costumes. There was a time when borrowing was the necessity of poverty. We borrowed machines because we had no factories, medicines because we had no laboratories, and books because we had no presses. Such borrowing was neither shameful nor unusual; indeed, civilisation itself advances through exchange. The Greeks borrowed from Egypt, the Arabs preserved and enlarged the inheritance of Greece, Europe rediscovered Aristotle through Muslim Spain, and Japan modernised by learning from the West without surrendering its soul. Borrowing knowledge is the beginning of wisdom. Borrowing identity is the beginning of decline. There is another form of borrowing that no customs official can intercept and no tariff can discourage. It enters silently through the imagination. A society begins by borrowing opinions, then aspirations, then indignation. Before long, it borrows its heroes, its villains, its vocabulary and, eventually, its revolutions. It ceases to ask, “What does our history require?” and instead asks, “Whose history should we imitate?” That, I fear, is the predicament into which much of Pakistan’s public discourse has drifted. During the past several weeks, social media has been flooded with admiration for the recent political resistance witnessed across the border in India. Video clips have travelled faster than thoughtful analysis. Slogans have crossed the Wagah frontier with greater ease than ideas. Among countless young Pakistanis one question has become almost fashionable, Why can’t Pakistan have a movement like this? The question is understandable. It is also profoundly revealing. Hidden within it is an assumption that our political future must resemble somebody else’s present; that history unfolds according to a universal script; that every nation matures by repeating the experience of another. It is an assumption born not of confidence but of intellectual dependency. The tragedy, therefore, is not that Pakistanis admire another people’s courage. Every decent society can appreciate courage wherever it appears. The tragedy is that many have become convinced that courage itself must now be imported. We seem increasingly unable to recognise our own political inheritance unless it first receives foreign approval. This habit is hardly confined to politics. It has become the defining condition of our intellectual life. We borrow theories from European universities before examining our own social realities. We borrow ideological fashions from America before asking whether they illuminate Pakistani society. We borrow debates from social media and mistake them for scholarship. We consume outrage manufactured elsewhere and wear it as though it were tailored for our own circumstances. We have become, in the deepest sense of the phrase, tenants in the house of our own imagination. The irony is painful. No civilisation lacking confidence in itself has ever become creative. Creation begins where imitation ends. Shakespeare borrowed stories but produced Hamlet. Iqbal studied Nietzsche and Bergson yet remained unmistakably Iqbal. Muhammad Ali Jinnah mastered the constitutional traditions of Britain but transformed them into a political movement rooted in the aspirations of Indian Muslims. Great minds borrow raw material; they do not borrow finished identities. The same principle governs nations. Civilisations borrow in order to create. Declining societies borrow in order to imitate. Perhaps nowhere is this confusion more visible than in our understanding of resistance. Resistance has become one of the most romantic words in modern political vocabulary. It evokes images of heroic crowds, defiant slogans, dramatic confrontations and triumphant victories. Social media, with its appetite for spectacle, has transformed resistance into a global performance. Every protest becomes a cinematic narrative; every confrontation seeks an audience; every slogan aspires to immortality through a hashtag. But history is not written in hashtags. Nor are nations transformed by theatrical moments alone. The anthropologist Leila Abu-Lughod offered an important warning nearly three decades ago in her influential essay The Romance of Resistance. She argued that scholars often romanticise resistance as though every act of opposition were inherently emancipatory. Such a view, she suggested, ignores the complex relationships of power, culture and history within which resistance acquires meaning. Acts of dissent cannot be detached from the societies that produce them. They are rooted in particular institutions, historical memories and cultural conditions. Her insight deserves careful attention today. To ask why Pakistan does not produce resistance identical to India’s is rather like asking why the Indus refuses to flow like the Ganges. Rivers obey their own geography. Nations obey their own history. Every meaningful political movement is shaped by its unique historical circumstances. The French Revolution emerged from fiscal collapse and aristocratic privilege. The American Revolution arose from disputes over representation and imperial authority. South Africa’s democratic transition was forged in the struggle against apartheid. None of these experiences can simply be photocopied for another society. History does not distribute identical examinations to different nations. Each country answers its own questions. Yet we continue searching for borrowed answers. Perhaps this is because borrowed revolutions are emotionally satisfying. They spare us the difficult labour of self-examination. It is always easier to admire another nation’s struggle than to confront the unfinished responsibilities of our own. Admiration demands nothing. Citizenship demands everything. That distinction has become blurred in contemporary Pakistan. Our public imagination has fallen in love with the romance of beginning anew. Every few years another movement captures our attention. We invest it with almost mythical expectations. We hope it will accomplish what institutions, constitutions and patient political reform have failed to achieve. We long for redemption through spectacle. But mature nations are not built upon permanent excitement. They are built upon permanent institutions. Hannah Arendt observed in On Revolution that the enduring achievement of successful revolutions lies not in the destruction of an old order but in the establishment of a

Every few months, Punjab returns to the same debate. Dog bites increase, public anxiety rises, and municipal authorities respond with culling campaigns. Dogs are shot, statements are issued, and for a few days it appears that decisive action has been taken. Then nothing changes. The bites continue, waste continues to pile up, and the cycle begins again. The uncomfortable truth is that Punjab does not have a stray dog problem in isolation. It has a waste management problem, an urban planning problem, and ultimately, a governance problem. One only needs to travel through the outskirts of Lahore or many of Punjab’s cities to see overflowing waste heaps, open dumping grounds, discarded food waste, and slaughterhouse refuse left unattended. These sites provide a constant food source for free-roaming animals. Where food accumulates, animals follow. This is not unique to Pakistan; it is basic ecology. Street dogs do not manufacture garbage. They survive on what human beings leave behind. As long as our streets, markets, canals and vacant plots continue to function as open feeding grounds, no amount of culling will produce a lasting reduction in dog populations. Removing one group of animals from an area where food remains plentiful simply creates space for others to move in. For decades, Punjab has relied on culling as its primary response, yet dog bites and rabies continue to challenge public health. That record alone should force us to ask whether we are treating the disease or merely its symptoms. The issue extends far beyond dog bites. Poor waste management contributes to contaminated water, insect infestations, rodent populations, respiratory illnesses and the spread of infectious diseases. It burdens hospitals, damages the environment and undermines the quality of life in our cities. Every neglected dumping site becomes a reminder that sanitation is not merely a municipal service; it is a public health obligation. This is precisely why the constitutional right to life under Article 9 has, over the years, been interpreted by Pakistan’s superior courts to include the right to live in a healthy and clean environment. Environmental jurisprudence in Pakistan has consistently recognised that life means far more than mere existence. It includes the conditions necessary for a life of dignity, health and safety. When waste remains unmanaged and environmental hazards are ignored, these constitutional guarantees lose much of their meaning. Animal welfare forms part of this larger constitutional conversation. Justice Athar Minallah’s jurisprudence transformed the legal understanding of animals in Pakistan by recognising that they are living beings with intrinsic value rather than mere property. More recently, Justice Khadim Hussain Soomro reaffirmed that cruelty towards animals cannot be separated from the constitutional promise of a humane and civilised society. These decisions did not elevate animal welfare above human welfare. They recognised that the two are inseparable. A society that neglects its environment inevitably harms both people and animals. That is why the internationally accepted One Health approach has become increasingly important. It rejects the false choice between protecting humans and protecting animals. Instead, it recognises that the health of people, animals and the environment are interdependent. Rabies control, waste management, environmental protection and humane animal population management are all part of the same public health strategy. Unfortunately, events on the ground often tell a different story. Reports continue to surface of dogs being shot despite the adoption of more humane management policies. Even more troubling are allegations that animal carcasses are sometimes left exposed instead of being disposed of through proper veterinary and municipal protocols. Around areas such as Saggian Pull, residents have repeatedly raised concerns about carcasses remaining in the open. If these reports are accurate, they expose a profound contradiction. Animals are killed in the name of preventing disease, yet their remains are allegedly left in conditions that can themselves create environmental and health hazards. Exposed carcasses attract scavengers, contaminate the surrounding environment, encourage insect activity and reflect a complete breakdown in biosecurity practices. Disease prevention does not end when an animal dies. Proper disposal is an essential part of public health. The solution does not lie in choosing between protecting people and protecting animals. That has always been a false debate. The real choice is between science and symbolism. Science tells us that cleaner cities, effective waste collection, proper disposal of slaughterhouse waste, vaccination programmes, sterilisation, environmental management and public education reduce disease risks far more effectively than periodic culling campaigns. Symbolism tells us that firing a gun creates the appearance of action while leaving the underlying causes untouched. Punjab has an opportunity to move beyond crisis management. It can strengthen municipal waste systems, enforce environmental laws, implement the Animal Birth Control Policy in both letter and spirit, improve vaccination programmes, and ensure that every department responsible for public health, veterinary services, local government and environmental protection works as part of a coordinated strategy rather than in isolation. The Constitution already points us in that direction. The courts have reinforced it. Science supports it. What remains is the political will to recognise that cleaner cities will save more human lives than another culling campaign ever could. Until Punjab confronts the mountains of waste accumulating in its streets, vacant plots and waterways, it will continue fighting the consequences of environmental neglect while ignoring the source of the problem. Bullets may remove a dog from sight, but they cannot remove the garbage that brought it there in the first place.

Pakistan presents a distinct demographic profile in the 21st century. According to the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics and UNFPA, 64% of the population is under the age of 30, with a median age of 20.8 years. This structure situates Pakistan within the category of youth-majority states. Consequently, an analysis of contemporary Pakistan is inseparable from an analysis of Generation Z, defined as individuals born approximately between 1997 and 2012. This cohort is not a prospective entity. It constitutes the current labor force, consumer base, and increasingly, the primary agents of cultural and economic production. The characteristics of Pakistani Gen Z can be understood through three interrelated dimensions: adaptability, initiative, and connectivity. The first dimension is adaptability coupled with digital fluency. This generation represents the first cohort in Pakistan to mature entirely within a digital ecosystem. DataReportal’s 2026 report indicates 111 million internet users and 71.1 million social media users in Pakistan, with internet penetration at 48.5%. The primary mode of access remains mobile broadband, which has effectively decentralized information and opportunity. This environment has cultivated rapid skill acquisition. The ability to learn and deploy new tools is reflected in economic outcomes. Pakistan currently ranks 4th globally in freelance earnings on platforms such as Upwork and Fiverr. Estimated annual freelance exports exceed $400 million. This phenomenon, often termed “digital remittances,” enables participation in the global economy without physical migration. The geographic implications are significant: a software developer in Peshawar, a content creator in Multan, and a designer in Lahore operate within the same digital marketplace, competing on skill rather than location. The second dimension is initiative and entrepreneurial orientation. In response to structural constraints in traditional employment, Gen Z has demonstrated a marked propensity toward self-directed economic activity. Data from the State Bank of Pakistan indicates a rising proportion of SME financing directed to individuals under 35. This is manifested in the proliferation of micro-enterprises, including e-commerce ventures, content creation channels, and home-based businesses. The underlying logic is one of experimentation and iteration: initiate at a small scale, acquire feedback, and scale operations. Importantly, this trend is not confined to metropolitan areas. Digital platforms have reduced barriers to market entry for individuals in Gilgit, Quetta, and rural Sindh, enabling access to national and international consumers. A craftswoman in interior Sindh can, through social commerce, reach buyers in Karachi and Dubai. This represents a structural shift in how economic value is created and distributed. The third dimension is connectivity and civic awareness. Pakistani Gen Z is the most interconnected generation in the nation’s history. Multilingualism is normative, with Urdu, English, and regional languages such as Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, and Balochi used fluidly. This linguistic dexterity mirrors a broader cultural orientation that is simultaneously local and global. This connectivity correlates with heightened awareness of social and global issues. During the 2022 floods, youth networks coordinated relief, fundraising, and volunteer mobilization within hours, utilizing WhatsApp, Facebook, and other platforms. The same infrastructure is used for peer-to-peer learning, dissemination of job opportunities, and advocacy around public health and education. Surveys by Gallup Pakistan and various youth organizations indicate participation rates in volunteerism among 18-30 year olds are substantially higher than in previous cohorts. Beyond present attributes, it is critical to articulate the vision of Pakistan held by this generation. Based on available survey data, academic research, and observable behavior, three core elements emerge. The first element is a vision of inclusive economic participation. Gen Z conceptualizes economic contribution beyond formal employment. The priority is productivity, skill utilization, and value creation. Key sectors of engagement include information technology, freelancing, e-commerce, EdTech, AgriTech, and creative industries. There is also a measurable increase in female participation. PBS data indicates that women constitute approximately 30% of registered freelancers, reflecting both economic necessity and changing social norms. The overarching goal is to convert Pakistan’s demographic dividend into tangible economic output. The second element is a vision of competency-based development. This cohort places primacy on skills, portfolios, and demonstrable output over credentials alone. There is growing demand for vocational training, digital literacy, artificial intelligence tools, and communication competencies. The emerging model is decentralized: one individual acquires a skill and disseminates it within their network. This peer-learning architecture has the potential to address gaps in formal education through non-formal channels. The third element is a vision of contributory citizenship. Gen Z associates nation-building with direct action. This includes environmental initiatives such as tree plantation, public health campaigns such as blood donation, and educational outreach in underserved areas. The conception of patriotism is thus operationalized. It is expressed not only through symbolic observance on 14th August, but through sustained engagement in community development. The narrative of 1947 is understood as securing independence. The narrative of 2026, from this perspective, is about deploying that independence toward institutional and social strengthening. Pakistan’s strategic advantage lies in this human capital. The generation is characterized by adaptability, enterprise, and networked awareness. The realization of this potential is contingent on the alignment of opportunities in skills development, digital infrastructure, and platforms for civic engagement. The trajectory of Pakistan will be determined in classrooms, in digital workspaces, in small enterprises, and in the aggregate of individual decisions made by over 110 million young citizens. With continued emphasis on learning, collaboration, and productive engagement, Gen Z possesses the capacity to advance national development objectives. This is their Pakistan, and the process of building it is already underway.

The true measure of a society is not its skyscrapers, motorways, economic statistics or political slogans. It is revealed by something much simpler: how safe its children are. If a child cannot feel safe at home, in the neighbourhood, at a madrassa, at school or even on the street, then all our claims of progress deserve to be questioned. The growing number of cases of child abuse in Pakistan is not merely a matter of crime statistics. It reflects our collective indifference, weak institutions and a social culture that too often chooses silence over justice. Behind every reported case is a childhood that has been stolen, a family that has been shattered and an innocent mind carrying wounds that may never fully heal. According to the material available for this article, 1,914 cases of child abuse were reported across Pakistan during the first six months of 2026. Meanwhile, Sahil’s report recorded 3,630 cases of child abuse across the country in 2025, an increase of eight per cent over 2024. These figures were compiled from reports published in 81 newspapers across the four provinces, Islamabad, Azad Jammu and Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan. According to the report, more than nine children were subjected to some form of abuse every day in 2025. But is this the complete picture? Probably not. These figures represent only the cases that were reported. Countless incidents never reach the police or the courts because of fear, social stigma, family pressure, financial difficulties and the long, exhausting process of seeking justice. The reported numbers, therefore, should not be mistaken for the full scale of the problem. There is also a widespread assumption that children are mainly at risk from strangers. The reality is far more complicated. Long-term analyses of child abuse cases have repeatedly shown that a significant number of incidents involve people known to the child or the family. This is an uncomfortable truth, but one that parents must acknowledge. Teaching children simply to avoid strangers is no longer enough. They must also be taught that if a relative, teacher, neighbour, family acquaintance or influential person makes them uncomfortable or pressures them into doing something they do not want to do, they have the right to speak up. They should know that they can tell their parents or another trusted adult without fear of being blamed or punished. Such education is not about frightening children. It is about giving them confidence.Perhaps the most painful aspect of this crisis is that danger sometimes comes from the very place that should be a child’s safest refuge. Home is a child’s first shelter. The family environment is supposed to provide love, security and protection. But if that space becomes unsafe, where does a child go? Parents also need to pay close attention to sudden and unexplained changes in a child’s behaviour. Fear of a particular person, refusing to go to school, unusual silence, anger, withdrawal or a sudden change in behaviour may sometimes be warning signs. Not every behavioural change means that a child has been abused, but ignoring every unusual change is certainly not wise. Pakistan does not lack laws relating to child protection. The Zainab Alert, Response and Recovery Act 2020, the Juvenile Justice System Act 2018 and various provincial laws and policies provide a legal framework for protecting children. The real problem, however, is not the absence of laws. It is the failure to translate those laws into effective action. During a hearing at the Islamabad High Court in June 2026 concerning the implementation of the Zainab Alert law, the court was informed that some important provisions, including the practical operation of an immediate alert mechanism for missing children, had yet to be implemented as intended. The court was also told that 562 criminal cases relating to missing children and child abuse had been registered in Islamabad between 2022 and 2025. These figures raise a fundamental question: how seriously do we monitor the implementation of laws after passing them? The National Assembly’s Standing Committee on Human Rights also expressed concern in February 2026 over the performance of government institutions responsible for child protection and the lack of coordination between departments. It pointed out that several policies appeared to remain largely confined to official documents. We also need to understand that registering an FIR is not justice. It is merely the beginning of the process. If a child is abused, a case is registered and the accused is arrested, but the trial continues for years, witnesses come under pressure, evidence becomes weaker and the family eventually loses hope, then where is the justice despite the existence of laws? Cases involving children require a particularly sensitive approach to investigation and prosecution. Making a child repeatedly recount a traumatic incident, subjecting them to unnecessary questioning or taking their statement in an intimidating environment can deepen the trauma. Every district should therefore have properly trained child protection units where police officers, prosecutors, social workers and psychologists can work together. Specially trained investigators and prosecutors should deal with child abuse cases, while unnecessary delays in trials must be eliminated. We teach our children mathematics, science, English and computers. But do we teach them what to do if someone touches them inappropriately? Do they know that they have the right to say no? Do they understand that they are not obliged to obey an adult when something is wrong? Do they know whom to approach if someone threatens or intimidates them? Age-appropriate child safety education is no longer a luxury. It is a necessity. The purpose of such education should not be to frighten children but to give them a basic understanding of personal boundaries, appropriate and inappropriate touch, online risks and ways of seeking help. Parents and teachers also need training because children often communicate distress through changes in behaviour rather than directly asking for help. The dangers facing children today are not confined to streets, schools and neighbourhoods. Mobile phones and the internet have created another world in which children can

On July 04 every year the United States of America (USA) celebrates its Independence Day with great fanfare. This year grand fireworks were carried out by a local educational institution that has been established in collaboration with a US university. Perhaps Americans were the only colonial subjects who were able to break the colonial molds to gain real freedom from the Brits. Ellis Island was the entry point where an inscription caught my attention; “What good rain or shine if freedom fails.” Patrick Henry went even further by asserting; “Give me liberty or give me death.” Freedom is at the core of the American dream that continues even after 250 years. On August 14, 1947, Pakistan emerged on the world map after the division of the Indian Subcontinent. After the riots that followed, millions left their homes to pursue their dream of freedom. There was bloodshed on the way. My late father Nazir Ahmed Malik, Tehreek-e-Pakistan Gold medalist and a soldier of the Quaid, had to fight a pitched battle in Ludhiana (East Punjab) to save his neighborhood from the Hindu mob. He was convicted in absentia. The family left a flourishing watch business to start all over again in the new land. My late father-in-law Shehzad Ahmed Khan travelled all the way from Brailey to keep the trains running as refugees poured in from all over India. According to him, there was a scarcity of engine drivers and mechanics. The officers stood with appeals for expert help on the platforms. Those who could help did not rest; they kept the wheels turning. Ghulam Haider Wyne, as Chief Minister (CM), started a very ambitious project called ‘Bab-e-Pakistan’ (Door to Pakistan) to preserve history. He had arrived in Pakistan from Amritsar via Ferozepur. Unfortunately, after his term ended, the project was shelved. In the words of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto (ZAB) is a grand laboratory where the workability of Islam was to be tested. True to our ambition, we started off well. The founding fathers burnt the midnight oil to establish functional institutions. The first born free generation was being prepared to take over. Sir Syed Ahmed Khan’s vision, Allama Iqbal’s dream and Jinnah’s struggle had paid off. The republic was poised to emerge as the first Asian Tiger when tragedy set in. Our Bengali brothers, the majority population, decided to go their way. Jinnah’s Pakistan was dismembered. My father suffered a heart attack and remained depressed for days. ZAB raised hopes of the nation that was left behind. In his words, “I have come to pick up the pieces.” To make our defence impregnable, he started the Nuclear Program in early 1972. Finally, in May 1998 Pakistan entered the ranks of the Nuclear Powers. Unnecessary misadventures have derailed the country which was poised for glory. Afghan War I proved to be deadly. The very fabric of the nation was stressed. Then Afghan War II was even more lethal. Suddenly a U-turn turned friends into enemies. Hope was rekindled when the United States withdrew from Afghanistan in August 2021 after 20 years of war. On August 14, 2026, the Islamic Republic of Pakistan will be 79 years old. Instead of dangerous one-wheeling by the youth, it is time to review and refwords,n the reality, putting ambition on the side for the time being. Today only the border with China is secure. Iran is fighting a survival battle. Diplomacy is non-functional both with India and Afghanistan. The economy continues to struggle. Challenges of debt are becoming insurmountable. There is some good news about energy. Finally, the government has decided on the use of Thar Coal to meet our energy needs. An agreement has been signed by Karachi Electric for the expansion of the mine in Block I. Mined Black Gold will replace the imported commodity to produce inexpensive electricity. Fauji Fertiliser has signed on the expansion of the mine in Block II to gasify coal, which will then be used to produce the much-needed urea fertiliser.

As Pakistan enters another monsoon season, the central question is no longer whether the country will experience floods, but whether we have learned enough from previous disasters to diminish their catastrophic impact. Memories of the devastating floods of 2022, which submerged one-third of the country, displaced more than 33 million people and caused economic losses exceeding US$30 billion, continue to haunt us. Four years later, Pakistan still remains on the frontline of the global climate crisis, with another challenging monsoon season unfolding in 2026. Climate experts warn that escalating global temperatures are intensifying the hydrological cycle, resulting in heavier rainfall events, rising glacier melt and frequent weather extremes. Pakistan, despite contributing less than one percent of global greenhouse gas emissions, consistently ranks among the countries most vulnerable to climate change. Recent forecasts by the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) and the Pakistan Meteorological Department (PMD) show an enhanced likelihood of heavy rainfall, flash floods, glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs) and urban flooding. Against this backdrop, an important question arises: Are the Pakistani Government and people aptly prepared for the potential floods in 2026? Since the 2022 floods, the Pakistani Government has introduced several measures aimed at reinforcing disaster preparedness. The NDMA, Provincial Disaster Management Authorities and district administrations have boosted coordination before each monsoon season. Emergency response plans are updated regularly, while rescue agencies conduct preparedness exercises in vulnerable districts. This year, the government has demonstrated a clear commitment to strengthening the country’s flood preparedness. In early July, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif chaired a meeting to review monsoon readiness, approving the formation of a national Emergency Response Committee and directing the establishment of an emergency fund for intense weather-related disasters. The Prime Minister also ordered federal and provincial institutions to deploy their full resources to facilitate the public throughout the monsoon season. A cornerstone of Pakistan’s 2026 preparedness strategy is the transition from conventional early warnings to predictive disaster intelligence. This shift, coordinated through the National Emergencies Operation Centre, aims at significantly enhancing the ability to foresee risks and issue timely advisories. International cooperation has also played a key role in this technological advancement. Pakistan has deployed a localized version of China’s MAZU AI meteorological early warning platform, developed jointly since 2023. The cloud-based system allows forecasters to monitor risks associated with floods, droughts and other extreme weather events with greater accuracy than ever before. In addition, a smart flash flood early warning system developed by a Chinese-Pakistani research team has been deployed in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa’s Swat Valley and a district of Punjab. However, these improvements regarding flood preparedness remain inconsistent and uneven across the country. Population surge, rapid and unregulated urbanization, deforestation, encroachment on floodplains and deficient drainage systems have further enhanced Pakistan’s exposure to flood hazards. Many flood protection structures need rehabilitation, while aging dams, canals and drainage systems continue to face maintenance issues. Urban drainage remains inadequate in several large cities, increasing the likelihood of severe urban flooding during intense rainfall. Moreover, despite progress, Pakistan’s disaster management system still faces several structural fragilities. First, disaster management remains greatly focused on emergency response instead of long-term risk diminution. Second, coordination among federal, provincial and local governments often becomes inconsistent during emergencies. Third, many local governments lack the financial resources, trained personnel and equipment needed for efficient disaster readiness. Rural areas in all the provinces often struggle with inadequate emergency infrastructure. Finally, climate adaptation financing remains below the scale required to address the country’s surging climate risks. Despite international support, Pakistan’s climate adaptation needs continue to exceed available resources. Another major challenge is the uncertainty caused by India’s unilateral suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty in 2025, which has stopped the sharing of critical river flow data. This move has forced Pakistani authorities to rely on less credible sources, including social media, to make flood assessments. The state of public awareness and preparedness, particularly at the community level, also remains weak. A 2025 scientific study “Assessing societal perceptions and adaptive responses to GLOF and related hazards in the upper Indus Basin, Pakistan”, found significant public awareness and training gaps, with 30.55% of respondents highlighting deficiencies in existing hazard management practices. Furthermore, 98.15% of participants acknowledged that climate change and global warming are major contributors to GLOF events, but this awareness has not translated into adequate preparedness. Another study of rural communities in southern Punjab found high attitudinal vulnerabilities linked to “poorly perceived flood risks and low preparedness measures”. The 2025 floods provided a stark reminder of these gaps. Despite advanced warning systems, over 842 lives were lost, 1.2 million people were displaced and more than 4 million were affected. Local communities often serve as the first responders, and their knowledge about disasters is vital, yet their input is frequently unheeded in formal disaster management. In view of these gaps, Pakistan needs to move beyond reactive aid towards a strategy of real-time planning and community engagement. Disaster experts argue that Pakistan still spends more resources responding to disasters than preventing them. Long-term flood resilience requires investments in climate adaptation rather than emergency relief alone. In this regard, priority areas include restoring forests in upper watersheds; protecting wetlands that naturally store floodwater; expanding urban green spaces; modernizing drainage systems; strengthening dams, levees and embankments; enforcing zoning laws to prevent settlement in flood-prone areas; promoting climate-smart agriculture; expanding crop insurance and disaster insurance; and improving early warning systems at village level. The expected floods of 2026 should be viewed as another warning that climate resilience is no longer optional but a national imperative. By coalescing scientific forecasting, efficient governance, informed citizens and long-term planning, Pakistan can minimize future losses and better protect both lives and livelihoods in an era of mounting climate uncertainty. The looming monsoon season of 2026 will be a critical test of whether the lessons of previous disasters have been learned and acted upon in time.