Pakistan’s Rise Leaves India Isolated: A Set…

Pakistan has entered a crucial phase in its constitutional and administrative journey. With a population exceeding 250 million, the governance model that served the country decades ago is increasingly being questioned. Recent public discussions, including remarks by Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi advocating a debate on administrative reforms in light of Pakistan’s growing population, have reignited an important national conversation: Is it time to rethink how Pakistan is governed? In my view, the answer is yes. The real challenge is not simply whether Pakistan should create more provinces. The real challenge is how governance can be brought closer to the people. A modern state cannot be effectively administered through excessive centralization when its population, economy, and urban centers have expanded dramatically over the past several decades. The first and most important reform should be the empowerment of local governments. District administrations, metropolitan authorities, and municipal governments should be given genuine constitutional authority, financial autonomy, and administrative independence. Citizens interact with government primarily through local institutions. Therefore, healthcare, education, sanitation, water supply, transport, municipal planning, and public safety should be managed by empowered local governments rather than through an overly centralized administrative structure. Karachi represents the strongest example of why governance reform has become a necessity rather than a choice. As Pakistan’s largest city and economic engine, Karachi deserves a governance model specifically designed for a modern global megacity. Despite its enormous contribution to the national economy, the city continues to face serious challenges in urban planning, infrastructure, traffic management, public transport, water supply, waste management, and municipal administration. In my opinion, simply placing Karachi under direct federal control would not automatically solve these problems. The federal government already carries enormous national responsibilities, and transferring administrative authority without structural reforms may simply relocate existing governance challenges. Instead, Karachi requires a metropolitan governance model comparable to internationally recognized cities such as New York, where professional city administration, clearly defined institutional responsibilities, strong municipal leadership, effective policing coordination, urban planning, and financial autonomy work together under a comprehensive metropolitan framework. Such a model could improve service delivery while ensuring greater accountability and long-term planning. Governance reform should not stop at strengthening local governments. Pakistan should also seriously consider creating additional provinces wherever there is genuine administrative need, broad public consultation, and constitutional consensus. Smaller provinces can improve administrative efficiency, strengthen regional representation, and make governments more responsive to local communities. More representative provincial structures can also help ensure that the concerns of both urban and rural populations receive greater attention at the national level. Equally important is the devolution of administrative authority to districts and local institutions. Excessive concentration of political and administrative power often limits opportunities for ordinary citizens to influence decisions that directly affect their lives. A stronger local government system would enable communities to participate more effectively in governance while improving transparency, accountability, and public service delivery. This debate should never be viewed as an attempt to weaken Sindh or divide its people. On the contrary, I believe these reforms would strengthen Sindh by ensuring that development and decision-making reach every corner of the province. Whether someone lives in Kandhkot, Larkana, Mithi, Islamkot, Mirpurkhas, Badin, Hyderabad, Thatta, or Karachi, every citizen deserves equal access to quality healthcare, education, infrastructure, clean drinking water, municipal services, and economic opportunities. An equally important aspect of this reform process is public awareness and civic education. Pakistan needs a network of credible academics, constitutional experts, economists, retired civil servants, educationists, and respected members of civil society who can engage directly with communities across Sindh, particularly in rural and underserved areas where access to balanced political information may be limited. Their role should be to explain, in Sindhi and other local languages, the constitutional, administrative, and economic implications of decentralization, stronger local governments, and, where appropriate, the creation of additional provinces. Many citizens hear conflicting political narratives about these proposals. In my view, people should be encouraged to evaluate reforms on the basis of evidence, administrative efficiency, and public welfare rather than fear or political rhetoric. If these reforms genuinely improve representation, accountability, and service delivery, they should be supported regardless of political interests. Ultimately, the objective should not be to benefit any political party but to empower every citizen and ensure that governance serves the people instead of entrenched centers of power. Unfortunately, discussions about administrative reform are often overshadowed by political narratives that generate fear and misunderstanding. In my opinion, governance reforms should be evaluated on their administrative merits rather than through the lens of partisan politics. Citizens should be encouraged to examine whether decentralisation would improve their quality of life instead of viewing every proposal as a political contest. Meaningful reform also requires strengthening independent institutions, ensuring merit-based appointments, improving accountability, and modernising public administration. Whether Pakistan ultimately retains its parliamentary system or chooses another constitutional framework, lasting success will depend upon transparent institutions, professional governance, and effective local administration. Pakistan’s future does not depend merely on drawing new boundaries on a map. It depends upon building a governance system that places citizens—not bureaucracy or political centralization, at the center of public administration. Strong local governments, empowered districts, efficient metropolitan administrations, and, where constitutionally appropriate, additional provinces can together create a stronger federation, a more prosperous Sindh, and a better future for every Pakistani. A prosperous Pakistan will be built not through the concentration of power, but through the fair and effective distribution of power to the people.

Kashmiris including men, women, youth and children who underwent the second longest lockdown, complete curfew, for a pretty long time, are observing it as the second darkest day in their history on August 05, 2026. On August 05, 2019, the Indian Government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi had quite unexpectedly, illegally and unilaterally scrapped the special status of Jammu and Kashmir under Article 370 of the Indian Constitution making it an integral part of the country. These measures had ended the occupied territory’s limited autonomy and sought to alter the internationally recognized disputed status of Jammu and Kashmir in blatant violation of the United Nations Security Council resolutions and international law. The second darkest day in Kashmiris’ history is now better known and is observed every year on August 05 as Youm-e-Istehsal (Day of Exploitation). The observance of Youm-e-Istehsal not only serves as a reminder of the continued sufferings of the Kashmiri people but also reaffirms Pakistan’s unflinching solidarity with their just struggle for the realization of their right of self-determination. Pakistan’s civil and military leadership has all along been extending moral, diplomatic and political support to the Kashmiris in their just and indigenous freedom struggle. Kashmiris on both sides of the Line of Control (LoC), around the world as well as the Pakistan government and the people are observing yet another Youm-e-Istehsal on August 05, 2026 to mark the 7 years of quite regretful, deplorable Indian siege of its illegally occupied Jammu and Kashmir valley and denying the Kashmiris their birth right of self-determination in accordance with the UN Security Council resolutions. Needless to mention here that Kashmir conflict continues to remain as perhaps the oldest lingering and unresolved international dispute dating back to 1947. It also continues to be recognized by the world body, the United Nations, as an issue requiring peaceful settlement in accordance with its Security Council resolutions and the wishes of the Kashmiri people who were engaged in one of the longest unarmed struggles for freedom from the Indian shackles. Kashmiris in the occupied valley, on both sides of the Line of Control, in the world over are observing August 5, 2026 as the second darkest day of their history. The first one being observed every year on October 27 is to continue marking their protest and agitation against illegal and forcible occupation of their territory by India on this day in 1947 after its last Dogra ruler Maharaja Hari Singh, one of as many as 565 princely states, had an Instrument of Accession signed in Delhi, had opted to join India in accordance with the provisions of the Sub-Continent Partition Plan against the wishes and aspirations of the valley residents. Following this ugliest development, India had airlifted its security forces into the occupied territory. Since August 05, 2019, India has accelerated its efforts for consolidating its control over its Illegally Occupied Jammu and Kashmir (IIOJK) through a series of political, legal, and administrative measures. The Indian Government was also making attempts, which are a great source of concern for everybody, to engineer demographic changes in its occupied territory through the issuance of forged domicile certificates to non-Kashmiris, mainly Hindus, changing the land ownership laws, and electoral delimitation measures which were designed to arbitrarily alter the region’s demographic and political landscape. There were reports that in pursuance of Indian PM Narendra Modi’s devilish intentions of promoting Hindutva more than 350,000 fake and forged domicile certificates have been issued to non-Kashmiris (Hindus) enabling them to settle in the occupying territory since August 05, 2029. These measures, quite obviously, were a crude attempt to dilute the identity of the indigenous Kashmiri population, undermining their political representation, and creating irreversible changes to the disputed territory in flagrant violation of all international laws and the Fourth Geneva Convention. The years following August 5, 2019, have also witnessed a worsening and quite alarming human rights situation in IIOJK. Reports of arbitrary detentions, extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances, custodial torture, women’s rapes, restrictions on freedom of expression and peaceful assembly, and systematic curbs on media freedom continue to surface and emerge frequently. Observance of another Youm-e-Istehsal on August 05, 2026 as such is not only a painful and tragic commemoration of August 05, 2019 events but also a reminder of the ongoing challenges being faced by the Kashmiris but will also highlight the urgent and dire need for the international community to take cognizance of the situation in IIOJK and exert pressure on India to respect international law and human rights and firmly support the efforts aiming at achieving a just and peaceful resolution of the Jammu and Kashmir dispute. Observance of the Youm-e-Istehsal by the government and the people of Pakistan is also a renewed commitment of Pakistan to continue extending political, diplomatic and moral support to the Kashmiris until they are enabled to exercise their inalienable right of self-determination in accordance with the UN Security Council resolutions. Kashmiris all over the world earnestly believe that their observance of the darkest days on August 5 and October 27 besides other protests and rallies in occupied territory and elsewhere will sooner or later awake the sleeping conscience of the international community and they will be getting their birth right of self-determination in accordance with UN Security Council resolutions and they will be free to either stay with India or join Pakistan. They are hopeful that this will happen but are unable to say surely as to when this is going to happen.

Pakistan has a peculiar relationship with workplace merit. We talk about it constantly. Government departments are criticised for delaying promotions. Corporations are questioned over favouritism. Universities are urged to reward academic performance. Employers are told to retain talent. Media organisations routinely expose nepotism, extensions, political appointments and institutional injustice. But there is a question that is rarely asked: Do the organisations making these arguments follow the same standards inside their own walls? The question is particularly relevant to Pakistan’s media industry. Newspapers and television channels have considerable influence over how society understands fairness at work. They report on workers denied promotions, bureaucrats given extensions, senior officials superseded and institutions accused of favouritism. But journalism cannot demand accountability from everyone else while exempting itself from scrutiny. That is where the conversation around employee retention, promotions and extensions becomes uncomfortable. The Extension That Blocks an Entire Career Ladder In any hierarchical organisation, one senior position can determine the careers of dozens of people below it. When a person occupying a senior position retires, the organisation has several choices. It can promote someone from within. It can recruit externally. It can restructure the position. Or, where there is a genuine institutional requirement, it can retain the individual for a defined period. The problem begins when an exception becomes a culture. A six-month extension becomes another year. A temporary arrangement becomes a permanent arrangement. A retired employee is brought back. Another extension follows. Meanwhile, people below continue waiting. For them, the issue is not merely that someone has been allowed to continue working. It is that their own careers may have been placed on hold to accommodate someone else’s continued career. That distinction is often ignored in Pakistan. Even Dawn Has Written About This Problem Dawn itself has been among the publications highlighting the damage caused by prolonged temporary arrangements. In a May 2026 editorial titled “Ad hoc culture,” Dawn criticised the practice of keeping people in higher positions through prolonged temporary arrangements, noting that such practices can leave employees without formal promotion, financial benefits or recognition of seniority. It specifically highlighted the frustration of employees whose seniority is bypassed. That position is difficult to disagree with. In fact, it is precisely the position that responsible journalism should take. But it also raises a more uncomfortable question: What happens when the same principles are applied to the media organisations themselves? The Dawn Question Dawn has long presented itself as an institution committed to professional journalism, institutional accountability and workers’ rights. Its pages have repeatedly carried arguments in favour of merit-based promotions and against prolonged ad-hoc arrangements. A January 2026 Dawn editorial page contribution on academic promotions, for example, argued that delayed promotions erode meritocracy, demotivate employees and can drive talented professionals towards private institutions or overseas opportunities. In another recent editorial, Dawn argued that prolonged temporary arrangements can stagnate careers and deprive employees of financial progression and recognition. These are sound principles. But principles become meaningful only when they are applied consistently. And this is where, based on my own knowledge of the organisation, an uncomfortable contradiction deserves examination. Dawn’s senior management structure has itself seen prolonged extensions, while retired managers have, according to my knowledge, been brought back into employment in Lahore and elsewhere. That raises a straightforward question: If retaining retired or extended senior personnel is justified by institutional necessity, why should the same practice be criticised when governments or other organisations do it? And if prolonged extensions are capable of blocking the careers of younger employees in government departments, why would the principle suddenly cease to apply inside a media organisation? This is not an argument against experience. Nor is it an argument that every retired employee should automatically be removed. Experience has value. Institutional memory has value. A highly experienced editor or manager can be extremely difficult to replace. But institutional value cannot become a permanent justification for blocking succession. Fifteen Years Is a Long Time in Any Profession The question becomes even more significant when a senior position remains occupied for an exceptionally long period. From my own knowledge of Dawn, its editor has remained in the position for nearly 15 years through extensions. Again, the question is not whether an individual is competent. The question is whether an institution that advocates professional advancement should also have a mechanism for developing and promoting the next generation of leadership. Fifteen years is enough time for an entire generation of journalists to enter an organisation, build careers, become senior reporters, become editors and eventually expect to take on greater responsibility. If the top positions remain occupied indefinitely, where does that generation go? There is a very real distinction between retaining talent and preventing succession. A healthy institution must know the difference. The Supreme Court Has Now Entered This Conversation This is no longer merely an HR theory. Pakistan’s Supreme Court has recently addressed the issue in remarkably strong terms. In January 2026, the court ruled that government departments could not use administrative inefficiency and procedural delays as an excuse for denying employees timely consideration for promotion. It held that promotion is connected to merit, performance and operational requirements, and said employees should not suffer because a department failed to convene promotion committees or relied excessively on acting arrangements. Four months later, in May 2026, the Supreme Court went further. It held that prolonged ad-hoc, look-after, current-charge, acting-charge and additional-charge arrangements can amount to exploitation. The case involved a Pakistan Railways employee who had performed duties of a higher post for nearly eight years before receiving regular promotion. The court’s reasoning is important because it moves the debate beyond bureaucratic procedure. It is about human beings and their careers. A person who spends years doing higher-level work without receiving corresponding recognition, seniority or financial benefits is not merely dealing with an administrative inconvenience. Their career is being affected. What Happens to the Person Waiting Below? This is the part of the Pakistani workplace debate we often ignore. We discuss the person

These days, one phrase echoes throughout our country: “Pakistan’s system has collapsed.” If we translate the word collapse into plain, colloquial language, it means that our so-called system has completely broken down, gone to ruin, or become utterly dysfunctional. Therefore, the argument goes, the country now needs a new system. This, they claim, can only happen if, instead of the existing four provinces, Pakistan is reorganized into thirty or thirty-two new provinces. Such a restructuring, they believe, would push aside the traditional politicians and allow a new generation of political leaders to emerge. Otherwise, they warn, just as in India, there will be an uprising of the “cockroaches”—that is, the youth—which will force this collapsed, rotten system to surrender. At first glance, these words appear attractive and appealing. They express not only frustration and disgust with our current political situation but also offer hope to the younger generation, particularly Generation Z. It is as if they are saying: “Dear frustrated young people! We are opening the doors to your future. You will rise, dominate the scene, and sweep away all the debris of the past—that is, the traditional politicians—with the force of your determination and enthusiasm.” However, this humble writer sees, behind these beautiful words, not a bright future but the same worn-out and ugly mirage of the past. In reality, those who are truly responsible—the real culprits—cleverly distance themselves from blame, divert the attention of the youth toward others, and then present themselves as the young people’s sympathizers and supporters. In our poetry, it is through such tricks that the beloved murderer becomes an innocent beloved, and the criminal appears as the trusted confidant. But this humble writer calls it what it really is: “the thief making the loudest outcry.” Our national poet, Iqbal, once wrote: There is an outcry that Muslims have vanished from the world; We ask: Were true Muslims ever really present? In appearance you resemble Christians, in civilization the Hindus; These are the Muslims before whom even the Jews would feel ashamed. If, in today’s circumstances, you replace the word “Muslims” with “system,” the verses take on a striking new meaning: There is an outcry that the system has vanished from the country; We ask: Was there ever really a system to begin with? If we were to parody the remaining verses, they might be difficult for some to digest. Suffice it to say that those in power never truly allowed a genuine system to develop here. And whenever, after much struggle, some semblance of a system did emerge, there were always certain “respectable gentlemen” who seemed to have taken an invisible oath—or perhaps a vow of deliberate silence—that it must never be allowed to function. In the eyes of this humble writer, our system truly collapsed on 16 August 1946, when, under the guidance of the British establishment, the Direct Action Day was observed, reducing the foundations of any future system to rubble. From that point onward, the struggle was no longer for a functioning system but for personal rule. That struggle strangled democracy, human rights, liberty, and freedom, and instead built a grand highway of coercion and dictatorship. Anyone who dared to step off that path or disagree with it was labeled a traitor, an enemy of the nation, an Indian agent, or part of the so-called “Fitna-e-Hind” (the Indian conspiracy). These labels were then applied to whomever those in power wished. The first victim was Dr. Khan Sahib’s democratically elected provincial government in the North-West Frontier Province (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa), which was dismissed within the very first week. Soon afterward, the same authoritarian mentality struck the government of Ayub Khuhro in Sindh. It was also decided that any cabinet member who failed to say “Yes, Sir” to the Governor-General would be considered dispensable. Once the founding generation established such principles of governance, why would later generations lag behind in following them? Thereafter, the race for personal power was inevitable. In the end, victory was bound to go to whoever possessed the greater force—whether the power of the stick or the gun. How could it be otherwise? If, instead of making the Constitution and the rule of law your source of authority, you rely on personal superiority, intimidation, prestige, and the power of office, then someone carrying a gun will inevitably dominate the throne of personal power. And once that happens, the cycle simply continues. It is a law of nature that the bigger fish eats the smaller fish. Muhammad Ali Jinnah, Liaquat Ali Khan, Ghulam Muhammad, and Iskander Mirza all played their respective roles. Later, when greater power confronted lesser power, the result was the rise of powerful military rulers such as Ayub Khan, Agha Yahya Khan, Zia-ul-Haq, Pervez Musharraf, Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, and Qamar Javed Bajwa. (To be continued)

By Muhammad Imran, Staff Member, SAHSOL-LUMS and Asma Rahmat, Final Year Law Student, SLC Superior University and Wafa Sarfraz, Law Student, SAHSOL-LUMS   Introduction: Article 10 of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan enshrines the fundamental constitutional safeguards against arbitrary arrest and detention, thereby giving concrete procedural effect to the broader guarantee of personal liberty contained in Article 9. Rather than leaving these protections to ordinary legislation—such as Sections 60, 61, and 81 of the Code of Criminal Procedure (Cr.P.C.)—the Constitution elevates them to the status of entrenched fundamental rights. Consequently, these guarantees cannot be diluted or abrogated through ordinary legislative enactments, and any executive action or statutory provision inconsistent with Article 10 is liable to be declared void under Article 8 of the Constitution. Structurally, Article 10 establishes two distinct constitutional regimes. Clauses (1) and (2) prescribe procedural safeguards applicable to ordinary arrests and detention, whereas clauses (3) to (9) regulate the exceptional constitutional framework governing preventive detention. Therefore, the Honorable Mr. Justice Fazal Karim (Late) in his magic book for district judiciary practice, ‘Access to Justice in Pakistan’, described it as a Mini-Criminal Code, and has rightly described it so. Interplay with the Constitutional Scheme of Fundamental Rights: Article 10 does not operate in isolation; rather, it forms an integral part of Pakistan’s constitutional framework for the protection of liberty, dignity, and due process. Read together with Articles 9, 10A, and 14, it establishes a comprehensive constitutional guarantee against arbitrary deprivation of liberty. Article 9 guarantees that no person shall be deprived of life or liberty except in accordance with law, while Article 14 protects the inviolability of the dignity of man. Article 10 operationalizes these guarantees by regulating the manner in which the State may lawfully arrest and detain individuals. Consequently, arbitrary arrest, unlawful detention, and custodial abuse constitute violations not only of Article 10 but also of Articles 9 and 14. The relationship between Article 10 and Article 10A is equally significant. Introduced through the Eighteenth Constitutional Amendment, Article 10A constitutionalizes the rights to due process and a fair trial. Jurisprudentially, Article 10 governs the investigative stage by ensuring lawful arrest, prompt notification of the grounds of arrest, immediate access to legal counsel, and judicial supervision within twenty-four hours. Article 10A, by contrast, safeguards the adjudicatory process through guarantees of an impartial tribunal, equality of arms, open justice, and procedural fairness. Together, these provisions establish a continuous constitutional guarantee of due process extending from arrest until the conclusion of criminal proceedings. Constitutional Safeguards under Clauses (1) and (2): Clauses (1) and (2) prescribe the minimum constitutional standards governing every lawful arrest. An arrested person must be informed, as soon as may be, of the grounds of arrest in a manner sufficient to enable an effective challenge to the legality of detention. The Constitution further guarantees an unfettered right to consult and be defended by a legal practitioner of one’s own choice, thereby ensuring meaningful legal assistance from the earliest stage of criminal proceedings. Additionally, every arrested person must be produced before the nearest Magistrate within twenty-four hours of arrest, excluding the time reasonably required for the journey from the place of arrest to the court. Continued detention beyond this constitutional period is permissible only upon the authority of a Magistrate through a valid judicial remand order. Collectively, these guarantees subject executive power to immediate judicial scrutiny and minimize the risk of arbitrary or prolonged detention. Implied Constitutional Rights under Article 10: Apart from its express guarantees, Article 10 also incorporates several implied constitutional rights arising from constitutional principle, comparative jurisprudence, and judicial interpretation. The obligation to communicate the grounds of arrest necessarily presupposes that lawful and objectively justifiable grounds must exist before an arrest is effected. Accordingly, an arrest cannot lawfully be undertaken on mere suspicion or with reasons manufactured retrospectively. This reflects the common law doctrine of reasonable or probable cause and has been affirmed by the Supreme Court of Pakistan, particularly in Mst. Sughran Bibi v. The State, which held that mere nomination in an FIR does not, by itself, justify immediate arrest. Similarly, the constitutional right to “consult” legal counsel necessarily extends beyond representation during trial. It attaches immediately upon arrest, including during police custody, investigation, and interrogation, thereby ensuring legal assistance at the earliest and most vulnerable stage of the criminal process. Preventive Detention: The Constitutional Exception: Although Article 10 principally governs ordinary arrests, clauses (3) to (9) establish a distinct constitutional framework for preventive detention. Preventive detention differs fundamentally from ordinary criminal detention. It is preventive rather than punitive, aiming to avert threats to national security, public order, or defence rather than punish past conduct. Recognizing the extraordinary nature of such detention, the Constitution subjects it to stringent procedural safeguards. The detaining authority must ordinarily communicate the grounds of detention within fifteen days unless disclosure would be contrary to the public interest. Furthermore, detention extending beyond three months requires approval from an independent Review Board comprising serving or former Judges of the High Court or Supreme Court. The Supreme Court has consistently held that the executive’s “satisfaction” justifying preventive detention is not immune from judicial review. Rather, it must be supported by objective and relevant material establishing a reasonable apprehension of harm. Preventive detention therefore remains subject to constitutional principles of legality, proportionality, and procedural fairness. Constitutional Remedies and Judicial Enforcement: The principal constitutional mechanism for enforcing Article 10 is the jurisdiction of the High Courts under Article 199. The writ of habeas corpus provides an effective constitutional remedy where an individual is unlawfully arrested or detained. If a detainee is not informed of the grounds of arrest, denied access to legal counsel, or detained beyond twenty-four hours without judicial authorization, the High Court may require the production of the detainee and determine the legality of the detention. Upon finding a violation of Article 10, the Court may order immediate release and grant appropriate constitutional relief. Except where expressly suspended during a constitutionally proclaimed emergency under Part X

Some things become part of your identity long before you understand why.   My love for Kashmir is one of them.   I have never had to convince myself that Kashmir mattered. It simply did. I suspect most Pakistanis would say the same. We grew up believing that Kashmiris were not strangers separated by a Line of Control, but brothers and sisters separated by circumstance.   Over time, that state narrative became something far more personal. It became brotherhood.   And brotherhood, if it means anything at all, means respecting the other’s right to make decisions for themselves.   That is why I find myself standing with the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir today.   Not because I oppose Pakistan.   But because I support Kashmir.   The public conversation has been reduced to “twelve seats,” as though the protesters have suddenly developed an irrational dislike for a number.   They haven’t.   This has never been about twelve seats.   It is about who gets to decide the political future of Azad Jammu and Kashmir.   For those unfamiliar with the issue, the Legislative Assembly of Azad Jammu and Kashmir consists of forty-five directly elected seats. Twelve additional seats are reserved for refugees from Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir who now reside in Pakistan.   On paper, the idea is understandable. Pakistan’s position has always been that the people displaced from their homes remain Kashmiris and should not lose their political voice merely because conflict forced them across the border.   No reasonable person would dispute that displaced Kashmiris deserve representation.   But representation is one thing.   Control is another.   Of those twelve refugee constituencies, nine are elected from Punjab and three from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. In practical terms, this means that more than a quarter of the directly elected Assembly is chosen by voters living outside Azad Jammu and Kashmir.   The question almost asks itself.   How can the government of a people be decided, in such significant part, by those who do not live under its administration?   Imagine if overseas Pakistanis not only voted in Pakistan’s general elections, but their constituencies alone regularly decided who became Prime Minister. Imagine if governments in Lahore or Karachi depended upon votes cast by people who did not live there. We would immediately recognise the democratic tension.   So why is it unreasonable for Kashmiris to ask the very same question?   Supporting that question does not weaken Pakistan’s position on Kashmir.   If anything, it strengthens it.   For decades, Pakistan has argued before the international community that Kashmiris possess the right to determine their own political future. Self-determination has been the moral foundation of our case.   That principle cannot stop at the Line of Control.   If we genuinely believe Kashmir belongs to the Kashmiris, then we must also believe that Kashmiris deserve the greatest possible ownership over their own democratic institutions.   Yet the debate does not end there.   Many voices now demand the immediate abolition of the refugee seats.   The law, however, is more complicated than the slogans.   In June 2026, the Supreme Court of Azad Jammu and Kashmir reaffirmed that these seats are entrenched within Article 22 of the Interim Constitution. The Court described any alteration to the Assembly’s composition as a solemn constitutional act, not something to be extracted through political pressure. Moreover, Article 33 requires prior approval from the Government of Pakistan before amendments affecting core constitutional structures may even be introduced in the Assembly.   And perhaps that raises an even bigger question than the twelve seats themselves.   Why should a legislature elected by the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir require Islamabad’s permission before debating changes to its own constitutional structure?   If our answer is that Pakistan has always stood by Kashmir, then I ask another question.   Since when has standing beside someone entitled us to stand over them?   Brotherhood is not guardianship.   Solidarity is not supervision.   Support is not control.   Pakistan has sacrificed diplomatically, politically and morally for the Kashmiri cause. That history deserves recognition. But history cannot become a perpetual licence to decide what is best for Kashmiris without listening to Kashmiris themselves.   The protests are not asking Pakistan to abandon Kashmir.   They are asking Pakistan to trust Kashmir.   Those are two very different things.   Whether the present constitutional arrangement ultimately changes is a matter for constitutional process, not street pressure. But constitutional process should never become an excuse to avoid constitutional questions.   The protesters have asked one.   It deserves an answer.   Because this was never about twelve seats.   It was always about whether we truly believe that the future of Kashmir should be written by Kashmiris themselves.