Poetry, Power & Humanity—V  Waris Shah: Wh…

Connecting Gilgit-Baltistan (GB) to the National Grid—and guaranteeing a dedicated clean hydro quota—is not merely an infrastructural goal; it is an ecological imperative and the definitive key to realizing the region’s full potential. High in the Karakoram and Himalayan ranges, where soaring glaciers feed the roaring Indus River, sits Gilgit-Baltistan—a land defined by its breathtaking landscapes, strategic geopolitical footprint, and an excruciating policy failure. Though this high-mountain region acts as the primary water tower of Pakistan, generating the very lifeblood that sustains the nation’s agricultural heartland and downstream hydroelectric dams, its own citizens spend their lives in perpetual darkness. For nearly eight decades since independence, the people of Gilgit-Baltistan have endured a chronic, soul-crushing energy crisis. In the harsh high-altitude winters, when temperatures plunge far below freezing and regional run-of-the-river hydel plants freeze solid or lose flow, power outages stretch to an agonizing twenty-two hours a day. Entire cities like Skardu and Gilgit grind to an absolute halt. Modern medical facilities run on expensive, precarious diesel generators, students study by the dim flicker of kerosene lamps, and families are forced to strip fragile mountain ecosystems of firewood simply to survive the winter. This domestic isolation becomes outright tragic when set against the backdrop of broader South Asian regional integration. Today, cross-border grid interconnections are becoming standard practice across the subcontinent. India has built high-voltage transmission lines linking its power architecture with Bhutan, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Myanmar, while making major technical strides to link Sri Lanka across the Palk Strait. Under frameworks like the “One Sun, One World, One Grid” initiative, neighboring nations seamlessly buy, sell, and route cross-border electricity to balance seasonal surpluses and deficits. Bhutan finances its national development by wheeling clean hydro power directly into the Indian market. Nepal trades its monsoon hydro surpluses across borders to avoid spilling water, pulling power back when river flows decline. Even nations separated by deep political, geographic, and sovereign boundaries manage to run copper and steel across international borders so their citizens do not sit in the dark. Yet, after 79 years of shared history, Pakistan presents an embarrassing anomaly. The state has built a national power grid that spans thousands of miles from the Arabian Sea to Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and downcountry Pakistan often wrestles with systemic generation capacity surpluses, yet it has failed to link its own sovereign territory of Gilgit-Baltistan to the National Grid. Gilgit-Baltistan remains an island—an off-grid enclave stranded inside its own country, cut off from the main transmission backbone. While foreign nations in South Asia trade thousands of megawatts in real time across sovereign borders, Pakistan’s own northern frontier cannot draw a single kilowatt from the national thermal and solar reserves down south during the freezing winter months. This policy neglect is even more absurd considering that mere miles from where local populations freeze, one of the greatest engineering feats in South Asian history is taking shape. The Diamer Basha Dam Project, currently under construction near Chilas on the River Indus, boasts an astounding installed generation capacity of 4,500 megawatts and an expected annual output of over eighteen billion units of clean, renewable energy. The dam will transform Pakistan’s national economy, but it raises a fundamental moral and legal question: will it transform the lives of the people living in its shadow, or will the power simply pass over their heads to serve distant urban centers while local towns remain dark? To correct a structural imbalance that has persisted since 1947, the Federal Government of Pakistan and the Water and Power Development Authority (WAPDA) must formally dedicate a guaranteed quota of 500 megawatts of power from the Diamer Basha Dam directly to Gilgit-Baltistan. This allocation is not an act of federal charity; it is a pragmatic, economically transformative, and ethically mandatory policy that aligns local resource rights with national progress. To understand why a 500-megawatt direct allocation is essential, one must look at the region’s fragile, isolated micro-hydel infrastructure. Historically, Gilgit-Baltistan has relied on small-scale localized plants built on seasonal mountain streams. While these plants function adequately during the summer melt, they are acutely vulnerable to climate shifts and freeze cycles. When winter arrives and glacial run-offs plummet, local power generation drops by over eighty percent. Because the region is not connected to the main transmission grid, it cannot import balancing power, leaving the local economy frozen. Despite possessing immense potential as an international hub for eco-tourism, organic agriculture, high-altitude software hubs, and gemstone processing, serious industrial investors routinely stay away due to acute energy insecurity. The cost of doing business is artificially inflated by reliance on imported fossil fuels, creating a cycle of underdevelopment that forces educated, talented youth to migrate to major cities downcountry in search of basic livelihoods. Allocating 500 megawatts out of Diamer Basha’s 4,500-megawatt capacity represents just eleven percent of the dam’s total output. For the national power sector, absorbing this slight allocation is negligible. For Gilgit-Baltistan, however, this capacity is transformative. It represents complete regional energy self-sufficiency, year-round grid stability, and surplus capacity to fuel industrial growth for generations. To execute this vision cleanly and equitably, a structured cost-sharing implementation model must be established between the federal center and the region. The federal government and WAPDA must formally ring-fence a 500-megawatt generation quota from the powerhouse specifically for the region at concessional local tariffs. In return, the regional government of Gilgit-Baltistan must take complete ownership of downstream execution. The regional government must build high-voltage transmission lines connecting the powerhouse at Chilas to major regional load centers like Gilgit, Skardu, Hunza, and Ghizer, while overhauling local grid stations and distribution lines. By dividing responsibility—federal generation matched by regional distribution—both parties build a long-overdue partnership rooted in shared accountability. An allocation of this scale does far more than illuminate living rooms; it fundamentally reshapes the socio-economic trajectory of the entire northern frontier. With a dependable baseload, Gilgit-Baltistan can transition from a subsistence economy to a value-added manufacturing and processing hub. Local mineral wealth—including high-grade marble, granite, and precious gemstones—can be processed

By Sharjeel Zafar “Nuclear security is first and foremost a national responsibility.” This principle is not merely a diplomatic commitment – it is the minimum requirement for any state operating nuclear facilities. Against this fundamental principle, the reported data breach involving India’s largest nuclear power station, the Kudankulam Nuclear Power Project (KKNPP), which came to public attention on 15 July 2026, represents a serious setback to confidence in India’s nuclear security architecture and highlights vulnerabilities within one of its most critical strategic facilities. The exposure of sensitive engineering documents from one of India’s flagship nuclear facilities is not just a cybersecurity failure; it is a warning sign of deeper vulnerabilities within a nuclear establishment that seeks to expand rapidly while struggling to secure the infrastructure it already operates. According to cybersecurity researchers, thousands of engineering files related to Kudankulam Units 3 and 4 were reportedly exposed following a ransomware attack on Reliance Infrastructure, a contractor associated with the project. The leaked material allegedly included drawings of ventilation and cooling systems, layouts of auxiliary control rooms, inspection records with site photographs, supplier information, and insurance documentation. Indian authorities have maintained that no reactor-core designs or operational control systems were compromised. Yet modern cyber operations seldom begin by targeting the most protected assets. Instead, adversaries assemble seemingly routine engineering documents, contractor records, and infrastructure layouts to build an intelligence picture that can support future cyber intrusions, supply-chain compromises, or physical sabotage. In this context, the significance of the breach lies not merely in what was leaked, but in what such information can enable. The incident is particularly concerning because it follows an earlier cybersecurity breach at the same facility. In 2019, malware attributed by cybersecurity researchers to the Lazarus Group infiltrated an administrative network associated with Kudankulam. Although the Nuclear Power Corporation of India Limited (NPCIL) maintained that operational systems remained isolated, the episode demonstrated that India’s nuclear infrastructure had already become a target for sophisticated cyber actors. The recurrence of security incidents involving the same strategic installation suggests that vulnerabilities within India’s broader nuclear ecosystem, including contractors, suppliers, and administrative networks, remain insufficiently addressed. Such repeated breaches raise questions about the effectiveness of existing cybersecurity protocols and the resilience of critical nuclear infrastructure against evolving cyber threats. More troubling, however, is that Kudankulam represents only one aspect of a much larger problem. Over the past four decades, India has witnessed repeated incidents involving the theft, illegal possession, and trafficking of radioactive materials. Police have intercepted attempts to sell uranium and other radioactive substances in Maharashtra, West Bengal, Bihar, Jharkhand, Uttarakhand, and Dehradun involving stolen radioactive material. These repeated incidents raise serious questions about the effectiveness of India’s nuclear security mechanisms and its ability to maintain strict control over hazardous materials. These incidents expose a dangerous gap between India’s claims of maintaining a robust nuclear security architecture and the reality demonstrated by repeated security breaches. The timing of these concerns is particularly alarming. India is simultaneously seeking to dramatically expand its nuclear energy sector and introduce greater private-sector participation. Expansion without institutional strengthening creates a dangerous contradiction: the country is increasing the size and complexity of its nuclear ecosystem before fully resolving vulnerabilities already visible within the existing system. Private participation may bring investment, technological expertise, and efficiency, but it also introduces additional layers of complexity into nuclear security governance. Unlike a purely state-controlled system, a larger private-sector ecosystem involves multiple contractors, subcontractors, software providers, equipment suppliers, and service companies that may require access to sensitive information, digital networks, or operational support functions. Each additional entity connected to nuclear infrastructure expands the potential attack surface and creates new points at which cybersecurity failures, insider threats, inadequate security practices, or supply-chain compromises can occur. Differences in security standards, compliance capabilities, and oversight mechanisms among private entities may further complicate efforts to maintain uniform protection across the nuclear sector. Without strict regulatory control, mandatory cybersecurity standards, and continuous monitoring of third-party participants, privatization could unintentionally widen the pathways through which hostile actors attempt to access sensitive nuclear information or critical infrastructure. The implications extend far beyond India’s domestic energy programme. India’s expanding nuclear industry increasingly relies on international technology, foreign vendors, global supply chains, and cross-border investment. Consequently, vulnerabilities within one national nuclear programme can have wider strategic repercussions. A successful cyber operation or compromise of sensitive engineering information could undermine confidence in India’s nuclear security practices, raise concerns among international partners, and expose weaknesses in critical infrastructure protection within an increasingly interconnected nuclear industry. As civilian nuclear programmes worldwide become more digital and commercially integrated, cybersecurity failures in one country inevitably become matters of broader international concern. The Kudankulam breach should therefore serve as a strategic wake-up call, not another incident to be contained through official statements. A nuclear power’s credibility is not determined by the number of reactors it operates or the ambitions it announces, it is determined by its ability to prevent unauthorized access, protect sensitive information, secure radioactive materials, and maintain public confidence in its institutions. The question is whether the international community would still stay silent over a State’s perpetual weak demonstrated performance in nuclear security and remain vulnerable to risk of nuclear terrorism, cyber terrorism, illicit proliferation, and black market or transnational ecological disorder? India’s nuclear programme stands at a critical crossroads. Rapid expansion combined with unresolved security weaknesses creates a dangerous environment where a single successful cyber operation, insider compromise, or supply-chain failure could produce consequences far beyond financial losses or reputational damage. In the nuclear domain, prevention is not optional, and security lapses cannot be treated as routine administrative failures. The most serious threat facing India’s nuclear ambitions may not come from external adversaries seeking to undermine its programme, it may come from vulnerabilities that remain unaddressed within the programme itself. A nation aspiring to become a major nuclear power cannot afford a security culture built around reassurance after failure. It must build one based on prevention before disaster. The Kudankulam leak is not merely

Since its inception, Pakistan has been confronted with a multitude of complex and interwoven challenges that have persistently constrained its political stability, economic progress, institutional development, and social transformation. While the nature and intensity of these challenges have evolved over time, their cumulative impact has continued to impede the country’s pursuit of sustainable development and national prosperity. Among these enduring national challenges, the governance crisis has emerged as one of the most pressing concerns, posing serious implications for sustainable development, institutional resilience, socioeconomic progress, and the country’s long-term stability. A number of instances can be quoted to highlight the dismal situation of governance in Pakistan. The very first among these is the lack of citizens’ interest in participation. Citizens are not sufficiently aware of their participatory rights; therefore, they do not keep an eye on public officials and don’t raise their voices when their legal rights are violated by the elite class of the state. Moreover, in terms of transparency, Pakistan is far behind the required standards. According to the 2025 Corruption Perception Index published by Transparency International, Pakistan scored 28 out of 100 and ranked 136th out of 182 countries, indicating a high perceived level of public sector corruption. Furthermore, it is our bad luck that the situation of the rule of law has always been in trouble since 1947. Unfortunately, the rule of law has been confined to the conventional concept of law enforcement, internal security, and crime control, while, at the same time, it overlooks the basic elements, including transparency, accountability before the law, and the equal, just, and clear application of the law. Although, the state has numerous accountability committees and agencies to hold corrupt individuals accountable and curb corrupt practices in society. But still, the state is struggling to implement accountability in its true sense. Ignoring the major causes that have led to the deplorable situation of governance in Pakistan would be totally unjust. These include a number of factors that have directly or indirectly facilitated its existence. In this context, political instability is the biggest cause of bad governance in Pakistan. For most of the time, a myopic approach is adopted by political parties to establish their own governments. They remain engaged in the struggle for power while toppling governments by hook or by crook. Likewise, the relevant institutions do not respond immediately to the emergence of new challenges, leading to dearth of responsiveness in institution’s working.   In addition to it, the lack of strategic vision of the political leadership is also a factor which hits the structure of governance in Pakistan. Quite understandably, Political leaders have failed to foresee Pakistan’s emerging challenges and to cope with the persistent challenges that the state has been confronting for a long time. Keeping in view the crunch of governance, whom should be blamed and held accountable? It is the need of the hour that well-crafted and result-oriented policies regarding governance be formulated and effectively implemented to address the issue in its true spirit. Social media should play its crucial role in spreading awareness. Democracy should be strengthened. Posting, transfer, and promotion of bureaucrats should be done on merit. Last but not the least, the right to information should be guaranteed to citizens as provided under Article 19A of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. These bold steps can place Pakistan in the list of countries having good governance.

Bio: Hamza Tareen is a student at LUMS majoring in Political Science, with a keen interest in philosophy and theology. ‘I am utterly overwhelmed; the deluge of quizzes is beyond my capacity,’ my friend slowly sighed as his head drooped in exhaustion. Students across the country nurse dreams of pursuing higher education in premier institutes such as the likes of LUMS or IBA. They navigate the rigorous selection process, pay exorbitant fees and, when they finally clinch admission, little do they anticipate the stringently demanding atmosphere that would exact a heavy toll on their mental health. Those who get into these prestigious universities are students who have already demonstrated exceptional academic excellence, and, unsurprisingly, they formulate a highly ambitious criterion for defining success, i.e., consistently acing their courses. However, since the assessment follows a bell-curve distribution which evaluates performance relative to peers, the grading is highly competitive and only a small proportion land in the A/A- categories. This not only fails their expectations but plunges them into depression as they call into question their academic capabilities and self-worth. And, to top it off, peer pressure, which is ever pervasive in the culture, further complicates the problem. It would be tempting to label setting unrealistic expectations as the sole culprit; but the elephant in the room is something else. It is the culture that continuously pushes students to the brink of burnout and brands it as ‘academic rigor.’ From having interminable quizzes, assignments and mid/final exams to being expected to excel in four/five different courses simultaneously, the pressure is intense. And students are expected to somehow manage it all—along with carving out time for extracurriculars and social life. University is not all about academics, and there are a multitude of other problems that students steer through during the semester. But, to their dismay, they are assumed to carry through it all. Justified it would be to say that by the end of the term, they are sapped of all strength, teetering on the precipice of collapse. It is a well-researched—and unfortunate—fact that depression and mental health problems abound in elite universities. The aforementioned factors, coupled with other personal and social challenges that characterize this phase of students’ academic journeys, become a crucible of pressure for them. They stumble, totter, and fall into a shroud of uncertainty. And, lamentably, the stigma associated with seeking help or counselling multiplies the problem. Mental health is stigmatized as something alien, suited for the ‘feeble.’ Amidst these circumstances, the onus falls upon the administration. Supportive counselling sessions which help students in threading their way through university life and academics are crucial; dedicated mental wellness centers need to be introduced, encouraged and endorsed; and students should be empowered to zoom in more on learning than deriving their self-worth from grades alone. This does not mean exhibiting apathy towards academic performance, but a reorientation of priorities which do not impede their growth and self-esteem. Finally, a reconsideration and reassessment of balancing academic rigor with students’ well-being is indispensable on the part of the administration. Mental well-being will naturally translate into more productivity.

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