Road to the East

The signing of the Pakistan–Saudi Arabia–Türkiye defence agreement in Makkah on August 7 marks a significant moment in the changing security architecture of the Middle East and South Asia. Its declaration that an armed attack against one member would be treated as an attack against all three has immediately raised questions about the future balance of power. Is the region moving towards two competing strategic formations — an emerging India-Iran axis on one side and the Pakistan-Saudi-Türkiye triangle on the other? The answer is not yet definitive, but the direction of regional politics is becoming increasingly visible. The most surprising element of this equation is Saudi Arabia and Türkiye. Relations between Riyadh and Ankara have not always been comfortable. The rivalry and mistrust of the past, particularly during the period when Saudi and Turkish regional interests sharply diverged, made the two capitals appear more like competitors than strategic partners. Yet geopolitics has a way of bringing former rivals together when their security calculations begin to converge. For Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, security has become inseparable from economic transformation. Saudi Arabia’s ambitious Vision 2030 projects require uninterrupted energy exports, stable maritime routes and a predictable regional environment. The continuing threat to Red Sea shipping and the vulnerability of energy infrastructure have demonstrated that geographical distance is no longer sufficient protection. Türkiye offers Riyadh a valuable strategic instrument. Ankara possesses NATO experience, an expanding defence industry and significant diplomatic access across the region. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan can communicate with actors that may remain difficult for Riyadh or Washington to approach directly. Türkiye can therefore serve not merely as a military partner but potentially as a diplomatic bridge. This is where the role of Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan becomes particularly important. His experience in intelligence and diplomacy could provide Ankara with the capacity to pursue difficult negotiations involving regional conflicts, including the unresolved Saudi-Houthi security dilemma. For Riyadh, reducing the threat to the Red Sea and ensuring uninterrupted oil and trade routes is not simply a military objective; it is an economic necessity. Türkiye, meanwhile, also has its own economic calculations. Ankara needs investment, economic stability and stronger international partnerships. A closer relationship with Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, the United States and Western financial institutions could provide economic and strategic dividends. Thus, the partnership is not based on sentiment but on converging interests. Pakistan’s position is even more complicated. Islamabad has historically enjoyed close defence and political relations with Saudi Arabia while maintaining strong ties with Türkiye. Its military credibility and longstanding relationship with Riyadh make it a natural participant in such an arrangement. Pakistan can potentially emerge as the facilitator connecting the Gulf with South Asian security calculations. But there is a price. Pakistan’s traditional diplomatic strength has partly rested on its ability to maintain communication with opposing camps. Formal participation in a collective-defence arrangement may make Islamabad appear less like a neutral mediator and more like a contestant in an emerging regional confrontation. The question therefore arises: can Pakistan protect its strategic relationship with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye without damaging its relations with Iran? The Iranian response will be crucial. Tehran is unlikely to accept a new security architecture surrounding it without attempting to construct diplomatic counterweights. Here, India could become an important part of the equation. Iran and India possess longstanding economic and strategic interests, particularly around connectivity, energy and the Chabahar corridor. Their cooperation does not automatically constitute a military alliance, but strategic circumstances could push their interests closer. Iran also possesses diplomatic instruments of its own. Oman and Qatar remain particularly important because of their ability to communicate with multiple competing powers. Rather than immediately creating a formal counter-alliance, Tehran could seek to use diplomacy, maritime negotiations and regional mediation to prevent isolation. This is why the emerging equation should not be reduced to a simple military confrontation. It is a contest of diplomacy, technology, economics, energy security and strategic geography. The United States also remains an unavoidable factor. Washington’s relationships with Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, Pakistan and India mean that any emerging regional architecture will inevitably intersect with American interests. Yet it would be premature to describe the Makkah agreement as an anti-American bloc. Saudi Arabia remains deeply connected to the United States, Türkiye remains a NATO member, and Pakistan continues to maintain important relations with Washington. The real transformation may therefore be something more subtle: regional powers are increasingly seeking strategic autonomy instead of relying exclusively on one external guarantor. For Pakistan, this is a moment of both opportunity and danger. Islamabad can gain diplomatic weight from its position within the Pakistan-Saudi-Türkiye triangle, but it must avoid becoming trapped in a zero-sum regional rivalry. Its relationship with Iran cannot simply be sacrificed, nor can its longstanding partnership with Saudi Arabia be ignored. The emerging India-Iran axis and Pakistan-Saudi-Türkiye triangle may never become formal opposing blocs. But if regional tensions continue to deepen, the strategic calculations of these countries could increasingly move in opposite directions. The region is entering a new chess game — one in which missiles and drones matter, but diplomacy, energy routes, economic leverage and political alliances may matter even more. The challenge for Pakistan is therefore not merely to choose a side. It is to ensure that, while standing with its strategic partners, it retains enough diplomatic space to speak to everyone. Because in the new regional order, the strongest player may not be the one with the largest alliance — but the one capable of preventing the chessboard from becoming a battlefield.

In a world driven by technology, only change is permanent. Change we must, but how? Transition from one system to another is perhaps the biggest challenge that we have not been able to cope with. Half-baked solutions with underage players cannot deliver. Reminds me of Einstein’s famous quote: “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” Steve Jobs, one of the greatest technologists of the 21st century, went even further by saying: “Either lead or get out of the way.” A few years back I was doing some research on universities and their impact on setting the course of nations. Syed Ahmed Khan’s Aligarh Muslim University stood out. It produced the Change Managers who not only led the freedom movement but also had the capacity to sustain it. The Islamic Republic of Pakistan (IRP) desperately needs such individuals who can understand and then manage the needful. In the year 1875 he founded the MAO College (Mohammadian Anglo Oriental College) which later grew into a university in the year 1920. He passed away in 1898 but the institution grew. Later on, Allama Iqbal led the movement, and finally it was Muhammad Ali Jinnah who succeeded in carving a new homeland in August 1947 for the Muslims of the Indian Subcontinent. Unfortunately, he did not live long enough to lay the foundations of the new state, but he did leave clear guidelines for the inherited establishment to follow (Armed Forces, Bureaucracy). After taking over in October 1999, Pervez Musharraf created a think tank called the National Reconstruction Bureau (NRB). Headed by Lt. Gen. Tanvir Naqvi, it was located in the Chief Executive (CE) secretariat. The task was to design and execute political and administrative reforms in the country. I was invited to give my input. Naqvi Sb was very confident about delivering meaningful change. His main focus was on devolution of power. As a student of management, I asked him a simple question: “Who will implement his plan?” Bureaucracy, of course, was his quick reply. He did not have an answer to my second concern: “Why will they implement a plan which reduces their power?” He then decided to get rid of me by saying if I wanted to discuss implementation details, I should go to the third floor to the CE’s office. Finally, he stepped down and was replaced by a young novice who lacked the experience and clout to deliver meaningful change. Then there was another initiative called the National Commission for Human Development (NCHD), led by a pediatrician from a small town in Oregon. The worthy Dr assured the CE that he would manage funds from abroad while the local expenses were to be provided by the Government of Pakistan (GOP). Various centers were established across the country and staff recruited. While GOP provided the internal resources, the external help never came despite fundraising efforts abroad. The CE was convinced that the two sectors were well covered, but they were not. Finally, NCHD became a liability and was shut down and the staff laid off. During my term as Chairman, Pakistan Science Foundation (PSF), I lobbied for technocrats to head technical ministries, which was not well received by the powers that be. Commercialization and application of research is the biggest challenge faced by the R&D sector of the country. When I was denied an extension after the completion of my term, I paid a farewell visit to the Secretary MOST (Ministry of Science and Technology). It was a friendly meeting; the Secretary appreciated my work but complained that I did not follow his guidelines. While leaving, he pointed at the board where the names of his predecessors were written. I still remember his words: “Only our names make it here.” He did not like my spontaneous response: “Time will tell,” and it did. My lobbying prevailed; a retired Chairman of PAEC (Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission) replaced him. Though he had no commercial background, I decided to guide and support him. He recommended major investments in creating public sector entities like HMC III, run by PAEC, for meeting their equipment needs. At best, only pilot plants were viable for transfer of technology from laboratory to industry. He was unable to get the funds. As such, his term ended with no major breakthrough, and business as usual continued. Pakistan has a federal structure of governance. Federating units are diverse with differing needs. I am in favor of devolution, but the task on hand is not simple. The forces of status quo are too entrenched. Change Managers are needed at all levels. Complexities have to be understood and managed. There has to be consensus on the road map. Islamabad has an archive of failed plans. The same mistakes should not be repeated again. The first challenge is to find qualified individuals with solid re-engineering experience to lead the crusade. Einstein and Jobs were two brilliant brains of their times; we must value their outlook to move forward and avoid chaos and confusion. Oversimplification of the task at hand must be avoided.

Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Turkey signed the Makkah Joint Defense Agreement (MJDA) to strengthen their defense cooperation. The agreement was signed at a critical juncture in history, both globally and regionally. On the global front, the old order is in disarray, and conflicts are breaking out one after another. The West’s dominance and hegemony are fading. Economic power, which the West once used to rule the world, is in decline. Western control over weapons of destruction has weakened. Simultaneously, Western diplomatic influence has softened, and their grip on the UN and decision-making has weakened.    This has destabilized global peace, and in 2025 alone, 50 countries were engaged in conflicts or wars. As a result, new powerhouses, in economic, diplomatic, and defense production, have emerged. On a regional level, the Middle East and South Asia have emerged as flashpoints, where conflict or war can break out at any time due to the reckless behavior of Israel and India in their respective regions.    In this context, the signing of the Makkah Joint Defense Agreement has raised many questions, and people are exploring possible answers. First, what does the Makkah Joint Defense Agreement include? According to available information at this time, the three Muslim countries have joined hands to strengthen their defense cooperation. It sends a strong message to opponents and enemies that any attack on Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, or Turkey will be treated as an attack on all. The aggressor will have to face the wrath of three powers.    Second, why is it important? It is important for two reasons. First, three countries are in hostile regions and face numerous security challenges. Let’s start with Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia is in a region where Israel is committing the worst genocide in modern history. The genocide in Gaza has destabilized the whole region. Unconditional support from the USA and the West allows Israel to continue the genocide in Gaza with complete immunity. They are providing all types of weapons of mass destruction and financial support to Israel. Even the USA and some Western countries are threatening the International Court of Justice or other UN agencies for asking for accountability of Israel. The USA and Israel’s attack on Iran has further complicated the situation. Iranian attacks on regional countries in the context of US bases are threatening a wide-scale war in the region. Saudi Arabia is also facing direct attacks by the Houthis on Saudi Arabia, especially on oil installations, which pose serious threats to the whole region.     For Pakistan, it has two hostile neighbors, India and Afghanistan. In 2025, India attacked Pakistan based on self-assumed allegations. However, a strong, full-scale retaliation from Pakistan compelled India to come to its knees. Pakistan destroyed many Indian fighter jets and missile systems. India rushed to the USA to beg for a ceasefire. On the other border, Pakistan is facing terrorism originating from Afghanistan. Afghanistan, with the support of India and Israel, has launched a full-scale proxy and terrorism war. It is also harboring terrorist groups such as BLA, TTP, etc. India, acting as a proxy of Israel, is providing full support to terrorists and fueling terrorism in Pakistan.   In the case of Turkey, it is facing multiple threats, including direct threats from Israel, Greece, and some regional proxies. Over the past few months, Israel has begun to portray Turkey as a new threat to Israel. Greece has also been encouraged by Israel and other Western powers to create problems for Turkey. Some Western countries also have historical grievances with Turkey and are seeking opportunities to harm it.    Therefore, this agreement is extremely important for the three countries and for both regions, the Middle East and South Asia.    Third, how will regional countries react, and what impact will the MJDA have on the region? First, Israel will not like it at all. Why? Because it will view it as a hurdle to creating a Greater Israel. Therefore, Israel will do everything to sabotage the agreement. It can use this agreement to create a sectarian divide in the region by portraying Iran as the enemy. It can conspire to instigate sectarian violence in the region, especially in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Turkey. The USA and Western countries can also join hands to facilitate Israel. President Trump’s recent statement on the potential role of Syria in tackling the issue of Hezbollah is a strong indication of this strategy. He is urging Israel to stop attacking Lebanon and let the Syrian government fight Hezbollah. Lastly, Israel can also exploit the civilizational context and emotions of the custodians of the Arab, Iranian, and Turkish civilizations. It can trigger feelings of self-greatness and urge each civilization to pursue past glory.     Simultaneously, some elements in Iran, especially those pro-Israel or influenced by Israel, can propagate the MJDA against Iranian interests. They can argue that it will undermine Iran’s status and create hurdles for Iran to become the region’s major power. Proponents of this view can argue that, in the presence of this alliance, it will be difficult for Iran to dominate the region. It would be an ideal situation for Israel and other elements to create a divide along sectarian lines and fan sectarian violence in the region and in respective countries. Therefore, all countries (Pakistan, Turkey, Iran, and Saudi Arabia) need to be extremely vigilant and coordinate closely.     Fourth, what would be the reaction of the global community, especially from the USA and China? China and the USA are important because they are major powers at this point in time. First, I do not believe the USA will have an independent view or reaction. It is strongly suspected, rather sure, that Israel will dictate the American response. It is an open secret that Israel does not want peace and stability in the region. Thus, the USA will follow this policy.    It is also in the USA’s interest. How and why? The USA considers the Middle East and South Asia vital to

By Malik Khuda Bakhsh Awan, retired Inspector General of Punjab Police and former IG of Azad Jammu & Kashmir & Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, water and energy expert who has served in KPK and AJK, We write this not as critics sitting comfortably at a distance, but as two servants of this soil who have spent our working lives in the very regions now aflame with unrest — one of us measuring the water and energy that could have irrigated peace in KPK and AJK, the other commanding police lines in Punjab and standing watch over the mountains of Azad Kashmir. What we have seen convinces us of one thing above all: the fire in Balochistan, AJK and the erstwhile KPK is serious, but it is not yet beyond our control. It can still be reversed — if the Government of Pakistan acts with the courage to match the sacrifice already being offered on our behalf. Before we offer a single suggestion, we must first bow our heads. Every day, a young Jawan somewhere in Balochistan or the tribal belt tightens his boots before dawn, not knowing if he will return. Every week, a Frontier Corps patrol walks into an ambush it did not seek, and an FC officer’s name is added to a list none of us wants to grow longer. Every month, policemen in Quetta, Muzaffarabad and Peshawar guard checkposts that other citizens simply drive past without a thought. From the newest recruit to the most senior general, our security forces have offered blood, limb and years away from their families to hold this country together. Their courage is not in question. Their commitment is not in doubt. What we owe them now is not more praise — it is a strategy worthy of their sacrifice. That is the entire purpose of this letter. We do not want the martyrdom of our Army, Police and FC personnel to be spent on a war that could have been shortened, or avoided, by decisions made in Islamabad rather than only on the battlefield. History offers us hard evidence that this is possible, even in conflicts far older and far bloodier than ours. Lessons the world has already paid for, so we don’t have to. Colombia fought a Marxist insurgency for fifty years, financed by drugs and kidnapping — arguably a longer and more entrenched war than anything Pakistan faces today. Peace came in 2016 not because the state finally won every battle, but because it paired security operations with land redistribution for poor farmers and a transitional justice system that let fighters confess their crimes in exchange for reduced sentences, rebuilding public trust along the way. In Northern Ireland, three decades of sectarian killing between republicans and unionists ended largely because international partners poured investment into the poorest, most neglected border towns — the very places where despair had made paramilitary recruitment easy — while a new power-sharing government guaranteed both communities an equal, transparent voice. Sierra Leone’s civil war was fuelled by “blood diamonds.” It was tamed not merely by defeating the rebels but by legalising and regulating small-scale mining so that ordinary mining communities, not warlords, earned the benefit, backed by an internationally certified transparent supply chain and a strengthened anti-corruption commission. And in our own neighbourhood, the Philippines faced a decades-long Muslim separatist insurgency in Mindanao. It was calmed considerably by granting the Bangsamoro region genuine fiscal autonomy — its own revenue powers and a guaranteed development grant — replacing a corrupt, clan-captured funding system with one that visibly reached ordinary people. The pattern across every one of these conflicts, each objectively worse than what we face today, is the same. Peace did not arrive purely from military victory. It arrived when governments paired continued security pressure with transparent governance and genuine economic opportunity, so that the incentive to pick up a gun simply fell away. Our humble suggestions to the Government- First, unemployment among our youth is, in our respectful assessment, the single biggest driver of unrest in Balochistan, AJK and the tribal districts. A young man with a trade, a wage and a future does not need the BLA or the TTP to promise him meaning; he already has it. We therefore urge the government to treat job creation in these regions not as a welfare afterthought but as a core national-security investment, on par with any military allocation. Second, we ask for financial transparency in how resources from these very regions — gas, minerals, hydropower, forests — are spent. When local people can see, in plain terms, where the revenue from their own land goes, resentment gives way to ownership. Third, we ask for genuine, verifiable inclusion — local land and mining rights regularised in favour of communities rather than absentee interests, block grants that reach tehsil and union council level without being intercepted along the way, and reconstruction that is co-designed with elders and local government rather than imposed from a distant secretariat. Fourth, we ask for a dignified, well-resourced path for demobilisation and reintegration wherever it is possible — vocational training, stipends and honest employment for those willing to lay down arms, so that today’s militant does not become tomorrow’s freelance criminal. Fifth, and we say this with the greatest respect, every federal minister must spend a minimum of fifteen days, physically present, in Balochistan, AJK and KPK each year — not for a photo opportunity at a heavily guarded circuit house, but sitting with local elders, visiting FC and police posts, and looking our Jawans in the eye. A soldier who sees his federal government only through television screens begins to wonder if Islamabad remembers he exists. When a minister walks the same ground our forces are dying to defend, it tells every Jawan, every FC sepoy, every constable that his sacrifice is seen, valued and shared by those who lead him. This single change of habit would do more for morale on the front line than any speech delivered

Let me begin where every honest sentence on this subject must begin: I condemn, without reservation, the murder of Mir Raza Ali, the 25-year-old founder of Karachi’s beloved dessert brand Wafflix. He left his home before dawn on July 28, 2026, telling his mother he would return in ten minutes. He never did. His body was found the next day in the bushes of Gulistan-e-Jauhar, bearing torture marks and a gunshot wound. Eighteen days later, his family still waits for the truth, and I appeal — as every citizen should — for a swift, transparent investigation and justice for his killers. Nothing that follows in this essay is meant to diminish that grief. It is meant to sit beside it, uneasily, and ask why our grief is so selective. Because for eighteen days now, Pakistan’s television screens have offered something close to a live tribunal. Home Minister Zia Ul Hassan Lanjar and Inspector General of Police Javed Alam Odho face anchors nightly. Forensic reports are dissected line by line. Postmortem findings, CCTV timelines, taxi records — every fragment of evidence is turned over on air with a rigor that would not embarrass The Hague. I do not begrudge this scrutiny; a young man is dead and the public deserves answers. But I confess, with something between astonishment and despair, that I cannot recall our media applying this same forensic hunger to the killing of the country’s economy. Even the assassination of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto in 2007 — an event that reshaped this nation’s political history — did not receive this level of daily, granular dissection. Nor, in truth, did the world’s own gold standard for high-profile scrutiny, the 2018 murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi inside the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, sustain eighteen straight days of forensic-audit-level coverage in the country that lost him. So where is that same appetite for NEPRA and CPPA? Here is what nobody puts on a talk show: over the past three years, dozens of Pakistanis — an elderly widow in Gujranwala, a mother of four in Jahanian, a young man in Faisalabad, a payphone operator in Peshawar — have taken their own lives after receiving electricity bills they could not pay. These were not abstractions. They were documented, named, buried. And yet no anchor has spent eighteen consecutive nights asking the chairman of NEPRA why. No panel has summoned the CEO of the Central Power Purchasing Agency to explain, plainly, in language a shopkeeper in Bahadurabad could understand, why this country of 260 million people pays some of the region’s highest power tariffs while its own regulator’s reports describe capacity sitting idle. Where is the media trial of the men who told us, from 2014 to 2018, that imported coal would be Pakistan’s “game changer,” and of the former prime minister who made the same promise about LNG-fired plants? Those promises are now line items in a debt-trapped economy, in a nation reduced, again and again, to a global begging bowl. But no one is asked to answer for them on camera. They sit, as it were, behind a veil — while the Director General of ISPR and the Chief of Defence Forces routinely stand before microphones and take hard questions. Why can Pakistan’s military spokesmen face the public, but not the men who set the price of electricity for every household in the country? I want to be precise, not merely aggrieved, so let me offer what I found when I went looking myself. CPPA-G’s own energy purchase data for May–June 2026 shows three nearly identical imported-coal plants — Huaneng Shandong Ruyi at Sahiwal (1,244 MW), China Power Hub in Balochistan (1,249 MW), and Port Qasim in Karachi (1,243 MW) — dispatched at wildly different rates. Huaneng ran at roughly 73 percent of capacity; Port Qasim at only 36 percent; China Power Hub at a mere 24 percent — this despite Huaneng being, by current fuel charges, the most expensive of the three at roughly Rs. 20.38 per unit, against Rs. 15.12 for Port Qasim and Rs. 16.09 for Hub. If Pakistan’s Economic Merit Order genuinely governed dispatch, the cheaper southern plants should be running harder, not idling at a quarter of their design capacity. Something else is deciding who generates and who doesn’t — transmission bottlenecks, take-or-pay contract terms that favor Sahiwal, or simple operational failure at Hub, whose output fell 37 percent in a single month. Whatever the cause, Pakistani consumers are still paying full capacity charges for roughly 760 to 940 idle megawatts at each underused plant — fixed costs for electricity that was never produced, quietly folded into tariffs nobody explains on air. This is not a call to relent on Mir Raza Ali. It is a plea that the same courage be extended elsewhere. I am not asking media to abandon one grieving family; I am asking whether this nation’s curiosity has been rationed, aimed carefully at the stories that move ratings but never at the ledgers that move our poverty. Who decides that a private tragedy in Gulistan-e-Jauhar deserves eighteen days of forensic television, while a public catastrophe costing every household thousands of rupees a month deserves none? Is there a veil, a ghost hand, guiding our screens away from NEPRA’s boardroom and toward whatever is easier to sell? My request to Pakistan’s media is respectful, not accusatory: summon the chairman and members of NEPRA and the CEO of CPPA, and ask them, on camera, to explain the dispatch logic behind May and June’s generation data, to quantify what idle capacity is costing consumers per unit, to say plainly whether transmission constraints are forcing reliance on costlier northern plants while cheaper southern capacity sits dark, and to commit to passing any findings transparently through the Fuel Charges Adjustment mechanism, as the NEPRA Act itself demands. Pakistan is the fifth most populous nation on earth, and yet the men who preside over its power sector — the chairmen and members of NEPRA and OGRA, the leadership

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.