Shehbaz, Asim change regional calculus

A recent five-member judgment of the Supreme Court has settled an important question of Pakistani company law. It has also exposed a deeper weakness in our justice system: even when fraud is ultimately defeated, the victim may receive no meaningful compensation for the years consumed in recovering what was unlawfully taken. In Abdul Razzaq v Registrar of Companies, Securities and Exchange Commission of Pakistan and others, Civil Appeal No. 125 of 2025, decided on April 22, 2026, the Court held that the passage of time could not protect a fraudulent entry in a company’s register of members. The ruling affirms Naila Naeem Younus v Indus Services Limited (2022 SCMR 1171), under which a petition for rectification of the register under section 126 of the Companies Act, 2017 is not barred by limitation where shares have been taken through fraud. The decision is legally compelling. The register of members determines who owns shares, receives dividends, votes at meetings and exercises corporate control. A fraudulent alteration is therefore not a technical defect. It can amount to stealing ownership through manipulation of the company’s official record. The Court has rightly refused to allow deception to become title merely because it remained concealed for several years. Fraud is usually designed to remain undiscovered. Applying a rigid limitation period in favour of the person concealing it would reward the very conduct that the law is meant to prevent. The judgment also resolves the uncertainty arising from Bentonite Pakistan Limited v Bankers Equity Limited (2023 SCMR 1353), in which observations had suggested that Article 181 of the Limitation Act could apply to company-law proceedings. The larger bench has clarified that a rectification petition is not an “application” governed by that provision. This doctrinal clarity is welcome. The harder question is what justice means after the fraud has lasted for years. A person fraudulently deprived of shares may lose dividends, voting rights, managerial control and participation in rights or bonus issues. The wrongdoer may meanwhile control the company, use its assets and finance the litigation from benefits derived through the disputed shareholding. After 10 or 20 years, an order restoring the shares may correct the register. It does not necessarily compensate the victim. This problem extends far beyond company law. In Pakistan, fraudulent possession and prolonged litigation often operate together. Land, inheritance, commercial assets and corporate rights are appropriated through false documents or manipulated records. Once challenged, the beneficiary denies everything, seeks adjournments, produces further documents and carries the matter through every available forum. Delay becomes a business strategy. The wrongdoer retains the asset while the victim pays to recover it. Even after losing, the wrongdoer may be required only to return property that never lawfully belonged to him. Nominal costs do little to alter this calculation. A rational legal system must ensure that fraud and frivolous litigation are economically unattractive. Otherwise, the expected gain from wrongdoing remains greater than its expected cost. Pakistan needs to move towards a genuine cost-based justice system. This does not mean obstructing access to courts or punishing honest litigants who fail to prove a bona fide claim. It means distinguishing genuine disputes from proceedings maintained through deliberate falsehood, concealment, forged documents or tactical delay. The Code of Civil Procedure, 1908 provides for costs, and the federal Costs of Litigation Act, 2017 recognises actual, adjournment and special costs in specified circumstances. The larger principle should be applied far more effectively: an innocent litigant should not be forced to finance the other side’s abuse of judicial process. Where fraud is established, courts should ordinarily consider restoration of all benefits obtained from the disputed property, interest for the period of deprivation, realistic legal expenses and enhanced costs where false or vexatious pleas prolonged the case. In corporate cases, this could include an account of dividends, bonus and rights shares, remuneration obtained through control, and other measurable benefits flowing from the fraudulent entry. Section 126(4) also permits referral of fraudulent conduct for proceedings under section 127. Such referrals should be made where the evidence warrants them. The constitutional dimension should not be ignored. Article 10A of the Constitution guarantees fair trial and due process, while Articles 23 and 24 protect property. A right restored after decades, without compensation for its prolonged deprivation, is only partially vindicated. The Supreme Court has correctly ruled that fraud cannot shelter behind the calendar. Our jurisprudence must now adopt the accompanying principle that fraud cannot profit from the judicial calendar either. Justice must do more than correct an entry after years of litigation. It must remove the financial benefit of wrongdoing, compensate the victim as far as reasonably possible and impose realistic costs on those who misuse courts to preserve the proceeds of fraud. Only then will delayed justice cease to be an investment for the wrongdoer. _______________________________________________________________________   Dr. Ikramul Haq, Advocate Supreme Court, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds an LLD in tax laws. He was full-time journalist from 1979 to 1984 with Viewpoint and Dawn. He also served Civil Services of Pakistan from 1984 to 1996.

President Donald John Trump occupies a singular place in the history of American leadership. He is at once a politician, a successful businessman, and an enthusiast of freestyle wrestling. His manner of thinking, planning, and decision-making bears a character distinctly different from that of his predecessors; indeed, many observers contend that it has few, if any, precedents in the annals of modern American politics. Analysts frequently describe him as a man of remarkable flexibility, yet they also acknowledge that a position defended with absolute conviction at one moment may, in the next, be replaced by its very opposite without the slightest hesitation. This characteristic became strikingly evident following the commencement of large-scale military operations against Iran on 28 February 2026. A careful examination of the period, particularly up to the defence of the Memorandum of Understanding concluded in June, reveals no fewer than seven significant shifts in President Trump’s strategic approach. At the outset, he dismissed economic concerns altogether, declaring that the financial difficulties of the American people were of no consequence and that the sole imperative was to prevent Iran from acquiring a nuclear weapon. By the time of the G7 summit, however, his tone had undergone a marked transformation. He began advocating the necessity of an agreement capable of shielding the global economy from a crisis comparable to the Hoover era and the Great Depression, pointing to instability in the financial markets as evidence supporting this revised position. His initial call for regime change in Iran was equally unequivocal. In a video address, he urged the Iranian people to rise against their government, declaring that the moment might represent their final opportunity for generations to come. Yet subsequent statements quietly abandoned this objective. Instead, he began speaking of normalising relations with Iran and cooperating with its existing leadership, occasionally describing those very leaders as more “reasonable” than before. During the early phase of the conflict, the complete destruction of Iran’s missile program, the industries responsible for its production, and the naval forces supporting it was presented as a principal objective. Later, however, his position softened considerably. He observed that while missiles might inflict damage upon limited areas, they were incapable of destroying the world, and since other nations possessed similar capabilities, Iran might also retain a limited missile arsenal. It was for this reason that the Memorandum of Understanding contained no provision requiring the dismantlement of Iran’s missile program. A similar evolution occurred regarding Iran’s nuclear program. Following the military operations of 2025 and again in 2026, it was asserted that Iran’s entire uranium enrichment capability would be eliminated and that the nuclear threat would be extinguished permanently. In time, however, the objective was narrowed simply to ensuring that Iran would not acquire a nuclear weapon. Rather than insisting upon total dismantlement, reliance shifted towards international monitoring and continued negotiations. Control over highly enriched uranium, initially regarded as a non-negotiable and indispensable condition, was subsequently treated as a matter of secondary importance. It was argued that preventing the production of a nuclear weapon remained the essential objective, while questions concerning enriched uranium would be addressed in future negotiations. The instruments of pressure likewise underwent a profound transformation. Economic sanctions and financial restrictions, once regarded as the principal means of coercion, gradually gave way to incentives. Discussions emerged concerning the release of frozen assets, temporary licences for Iranian oil exports, and the possibility of reconstruction assistance amounting to hundreds of billions of dollars, with additional concessions to be granted subject to Iran’s future conduct. Likewise, the original determination to terminate Iran’s support for regional proxy groups gradually receded into the background. In its place, greater emphasis was placed upon securing a direct ceasefire and addressing the broader requirements of peace and stability throughout the Middle East. These strategic adjustments were accompanied by repeated tactical oscillations, in which stern threats were frequently followed by the postponement or cancellation of military action. A chronological review compiled up to 3 August reveals numerous announcements of major strikes that were ultimately abandoned. The latest example occurred on 1 and 2 August, when military action was suspended following requests from Iran and several regional parties, together with the emergence of preliminary outlines for a possible understanding involving the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz and measures aimed at removing the nuclear threat. On 7 April, shortly before the expiration of an ultimatum in which President Trump had threatened strikes against bridges and power stations, a two-week ceasefire was agreed. He had warned that such attacks could extinguish an entire civilisation. On 21 April, at the request of international mediators, the ceasefire was extended indefinitely, although hostilities resumed at a later stage. On 18 May, a major military operation was deferred to allow serious negotiations to proceed, but when those negotiations faltered, military action recommenced. On the night of 11 June, President Trump threatened an overwhelming assault upon Iran together with the seizure of its oil and gas resources. Yet only hours later, citing what he described as a significant diplomatic breakthrough, he cancelled the operation, thereby paving the way for the Memorandum of Understanding. Signed on 17 June, the Memorandum provided for a ceasefire, the temporary reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, limited economic relief, and a framework for sixty days of negotiations. It nevertheless expressly reserved the right to resume bombing should its provisions prove unsatisfactory. At the beginning of July, following attacks upon commercial shipping, the ceasefire was declared terminated. Military strikes were launched against dozens, and subsequently scores, of targets. Congress was formally notified, and the Administration adopted an increasingly uncompromising public tone. Yet negotiations continued simultaneously. The naval blockade was reimposed, retaliatory operations persisted, and on 27 July the intensive daily bombardment was once again suspended in order to afford diplomacy another opportunity. Even in early August, fresh threats eventually yielded to renewed consideration of a possible political framework. Oil sanctions followed a similarly fluctuating course. Temporary export licences were granted, only to be withdrawn as sanctions were reimposed.

By Ali Haider In a statement, former FBR Chairman Shabbar Zaidi said that Pakistan’s economy would improve if it severed trade ties with China. He asserted that China has inflicted more damage on the Pakistani economy than the United States ever did. He further stated that he had opposed CPEC from day one, noting that the public was misled by the “game changer” narrative while the country was driven to ruin through the implementation of exorbitantly expensive power projects. The total trade volume between Pakistan and China during the 2024-25 fiscal year stood at approximately $25.23 billion. Of this, Pakistan imported goods worth $20.43 billion from China and exported products valued at $2.84 billion. Additionally, Pakistan makes annual payments of around $1 billion to China for services, loan repayments, and profit repatriations related to CPEC projects. Consequently, Pakistan’s overall trade deficit with China stands at approximately $18 to $19 billion, a figure exceeding the total funding Pakistan receives under a full IMF program. Since over 90 percent of trade between Pakistan and China is conducted in US dollars, this deficit has a direct impact on the country’s foreign exchange reserves. Pakistan sources approximately 28 percent of its total imports from China. In 2025, China remained Pakistan’s largest trading partner. Major imports from China include machinery, electrical machinery, organic chemicals, textile raw materials , and solar panels. Conversely, just four items account for 60 percent of Pakistan’s exports to China: cotton yarn, rice, seafood, and leather products. In other words, our exports are not only limited in scope but also consist primarily of raw materials and agricultural commodities. Trade with any country is beneficial only when exports exceed imports, or at the very least, match them. However, in Pakistan’s case, for every dollar of exports, we are importing goods worth 7.2 dollars from China. This trade imbalance becomes even more critical when Pakistan imports goods from China that are already being manufactured domestically. The textile and garment sector serves as the prime example of this; although Pakistan is among the world’s major cotton producing nations, a large portion its clothing imports, including both summer and winter garments, comes from China. This situation is primarily driven by the exorbitant rise in electricity tariffs in Pakistan. Currently, the cost of a single commercial electricity unit exceeds 60 rupees, and high gas prices further exacerbate the situation; consequently, the production cost of a standard jacket made in Pakistan reaches 10,000 rupees. In contrast, a Chinese made jacket of comparable quality is sold in the market at or even below that production cost. Due to this uneven playing field, dozens of garment units in Karachi, Lahore, and Faisalabad have shut down. Between 800 and 1,200 textile mills have closed over the last decade; Kasur, which was Asia’s largest leather industry hub in 2001, now lies desolate, as 40 percent of its tanneries have completely shut down and another 30 percent have become seasonal operations. The footwear industry has also suffered severe damage; in Punjab alone, there were over 350 large shoe manufacturing factories, of which 20 percent have shut down and 15 percent have seen a decline in production. This is largely because Chinese shoes, slippers, and sandals available in the market are not only cheaper but also more appealing to young generation in terms of design. Consequently, local manufacturers report that their production has dropped by 40 percent over the past three years. The steel sector is also grappling with this same challenge. Following the closure of Pakistan Steel Mills, the country imports 70 percent of its steel requirements. In 2025, steel and iron products worth $1.5 billion were imported from China alone; these included construction rebar, sheets, and pipes. Although Pakistan possesses reserves of iron and coal, high electricity costs prevent local production from competing effectively in this tough market. Another concerning aspect is the import of machinery. In 2025, Pakistan imported industrial machinery worth $2.6 billion from China; however, this import was not accompanied by investment. Chinese companies profit from selling the machinery and then leave, without opting to set up manufacturing plants within Pakistan. If the government were to mandate that every major machinery import be coupled with a requirement for the Chinese company to establish a factory in Pakistan with a 30 percent equity stake, it would generate employment and enable Pakistan to achieve self-reliance in technology. It is simply not possible for Pakistan to completely halt trade, as a significant portion of solar panels, mobile phone components, pharmaceutical raw materials, and agricultural machinery is imported from China. If these imports were halted tomorrow, many factories would shut down, and inflation could surge by 30 to 40 percent. It would take the economy at least ten years to fully recover from such a shock. The solution lies in “smart protection.” The first step is to impose phased regulatory duties on goods currently being manufactured in Pakistan. Protection can be immediately extended to three sectors: clothing, footwear, and certain types of construction steel. The second step is to make the import of machinery conditional upon investment. The third and most critical step is to reduce production costs; until electricity and gas become cheaper, “Made in Pakistan” products will not be able to compete with Chinese goods. On the other hand, the government must also work on boosting exports. Pakistan’s total exports increased by 48.7 percent during the first five months of 2026, with copper, rice, and halal meat playing a significant role. Access to the Chinese market can be expanded by incorporating agriculture, IT, and minerals into the second phase of CPEC. The target should be to increase exports to China from $3 billion to $10 billion over the next three years. Amidst all these issues, it is crucial to understand that China is not Pakistan’s enemy; it is the world’s largest manufacturing hub, producing goods tailored to the purchasing power of every nation. The real problem lies in imbalanced trade and high production costs. Pressure on foreign exchange reserves

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.

I recently completed the AI, Justice, and the Rule of Law course, developed by the Saïd Business School at the University of Oxford in collaboration with UNESCO. The course was designed to equip legal professionals, judges, policymakers, researchers and justice sector practitioners with a comprehensive understanding of how artificial intelligence is transforming legal systems and the administration of justice while safeguarding the rule of law. Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a future possibility but an integral part of modern justice systems. A UNESCO survey of judicial operators from 96 countries found that 44% already use AI in their daily work, while only 9% have received formal AI training. AI is already being used in courts across more than one hundred jurisdictions to support legal research, document review, transcription, translation, case management, document summarisation, and drafting assistance. However, AI should not be viewed as a single technology; rather, it should be understood in terms of the specific task it performs within the judicial process. This functional approach is essential because the legal implications of AI depend on where and how it is used. Different categories of AI create different opportunities and risks. Administrative AI is primarily used for case management, transcription, translation, and other routine functions that improve court efficiency. Research and analytical AI assists legal professionals in identifying relevant legislation, precedents, and legal principles. Decision-support AI helps analyse patterns and provide recommendations, while generative AI produces summaries, drafts legal documents, and generates text. Each category presents distinct legal, ethical, and governance challenges, requiring different levels of scrutiny and oversight. A central theme in the course was that AI should support judicial work rather than replace judicial decision-making. Judicial authority must always remain with human judges, who retain ultimate responsibility for interpreting the law and deciding cases. AI can assist by improving efficiency and providing analytical support, but it cannot substitute independent legal reasoning or judicial discretion. The principle of Human-in-the-Loop (HITL) is emphasized, under which meaningful human oversight remains essential whenever AI influences legal processes or outcomes. There are considerable opportunities AI presents for improving justice systems. AI can significantly accelerate legal research, improve case management, automate transcription and translation, summarise lengthy legal documents, and reduce the administrative workload of judges and court staff. By automating repetitive tasks, AI enables judges to devote more time to hearings, legal analysis, and reasoned decision-making. AI has the potential to improve access to justice by making legal services faster, more efficient, and more accessible. Alongside these benefits, there are risks associated with AI in the justice sector. Generative AI may produce hallucinated legal authorities, inaccurate citations, or misleading legal analysis. Algorithmic bias may reinforce existing inequalities, while automation bias can encourage users to place excessive trust in AI-generated outputs without independent verification. Other important concerns include the lack of transparency in ‘black box’ algorithms, risks to privacy and confidentiality, and the possibility that excessive reliance on AI may gradually erode the professional skills and independent judgment of legal practitioners. The responsible adoption of AI requires governance rather than simply introducing new technology. Effective implementation depends upon institutional AI policies, comprehensive risk and human rights impact assessments, pilot testing before deployment, continuous monitoring and evaluation, transparency, explainability, and accountability. The importance of multidisciplinary oversight involving judges, technologists, policymakers, and civil society to ensure that AI systems remain trustworthy and aligned with the principles of justice and the rule of law. Another important aspect of the role of AI is in promoting access to justice. AI-powered legal assistants can help self-represented litigants understand legal procedures, prepare legal documents, translate court materials into different languages, and support mediation and dispute resolution processes. These applications have the potential to make legal information and services more accessible, particularly for individuals who face financial, linguistic, or geographical barriers in accessing justice. However, the ethical and professional responsibility always remains with human legal professionals. Regardless of how sophisticated AI systems become, judges remain accountable for their decisions, and lawyers remain responsible for the accuracy, quality, and integrity of their work. AI cannot replace professional ethics, judicial independence, impartiality, or the duty to provide transparent, reasoned, and legally sound judgments. Overall, AI should be viewed as a powerful judicial support tool rather than a judicial decision-maker. Its responsible use depends upon understanding the function of each AI system, maintaining meaningful human oversight, safeguarding fundamental rights, ensuring transparency and accountability, and adopting strong institutional governance so that technological innovation strengthens, rather than undermines, the rule of law.

By Qashf Aizdi Justice delayed is justice denied. This phrase has become almost cliché in Pakistan and it unfortunately remains painfully true for millions of litigants who are waiting for their day in court. Every year hundreds of new cases are filed while thousands remain undecided and as a result courtrooms continue to grow more congested and hearings become more infrequent. The unfortunate consequence is that justice moves further out of reach. Time is perhaps the only thing Pakistan’s justice system can no longer afford to lose. The scale of the crisis is reflected in the numbers. According to the Judicial Statistics of Pakistan 2023, more than 2.25 million cases remain pending before courts of Pakistan. During the same year, 4.48 million new cases were instituted while 4.41 million were disposed of, resulting in a 5 percent increase in the overall backlog. The district judiciary alone accounts for 82 percent of all pending cases. With just over 3,100 working judges and judicial officers, each is responsible for more than 700 pending cases, even before accounting for the thousands of new cases filed every year. These figures do not suggest that Pakistan’s judges are idle; rather, they point to a justice system struggling to keep pace with an ever-growing caseload. Civil disputes in Pakistan can often take 10 to 15 years and in some instances even longer, before reaching its conclusion. Court proceedings are routinely delayed by repeated adjournments, cumbersome procedures, paper-based case management and multiple tiers of appeal. Difficulties in serving notices, delays in recording evidence and frequent adjournment requests often leave litigants waiting months before their cases are heard again. Additionally, the consequences of delayed justice extend beyond the courtroom. By the time a case is finally decided, litigants find themselves in a morass of mounting legal costs, lost opportunities and prolonged uncertainty. Every adjournment adds to the financial and emotional burden borne by litigants. A favorable judgment delivered after years of litigation can never fully restore the time, financial stability or peace of mind that has already been obliterated. Article 37(d) of the Constitution of Pakistan obliges the State to ensure inexpensive and expeditious justice. Yet, for many litigants, this constitutional promise often rings hollow. As mounting caseloads continue to overwhelm the judiciary, lengthy delays have become an accepted and vexatious feature of the legal system rather than an exception. Justice that arrives years too late often fails to provide meaningful relief. The immediate explanation is ostensibly straightforward; the number of judges is insufficient to handle the growing caseload. Pakistan has one of the lowest judge-to-population ratios in the region, leaving judges responsible for hundreds and often thousands of matters. Yet the shortage of judges tells only part of the story. Addressing this crisis requires more than appointing additional judges; it demands a more comprehensive approach to resolving disputes. One such reform lies in the greater use of Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR). Cases can be resolved out of court using processes like mediation and arbitration, whereby judges can focus on cases which require formal adjudication. Consequently, ADR works in conjunction with the courts in solving disputes outside of court. The potential of ADR is perhaps best illustrated by the Morgah Valley dispute. Despite taking over 42 years to be settled via litigation, the same case took only two months to settle after being referred to mediation. Though not all disputes are suitable for mediation, this case is an example of the value that comes with the application of ADR at the right time. More importantly, it shows that timely justice is not an impossible ideal but an achievable one when the right mechanisms are used. However, for countless litigants, delay remains the norm as the judiciary continues to grapple with overwhelming caseloads. Repeated adjournments leave litigants facing prolonged uncertainty and growing frustration. Cases pass from one generation to the next and some litigants never live to see the final outcome of disputes they initiated and fought for. Justice should not become an inheritance passed from parents to children. The longer that reform is postponed, the greater the cost to litigants, businesses and public confidence. Pakistan’s courts are running out of time and so are the people waiting for justice. If Pakistan is serious about fulfilling the constitutional vision embodied in Article 37(d) of the Constitution, reducing judicial delays can no longer remain an aspiration, it must become a national priority. Reforming the justice system will require efficient case management, greater use of appropriate dispute resolution mechanisms and a collective commitment to ensuring that justice is delivered when it is needed most. Until then, Pakistan’s courts will continue to run out of the one resource they cannot recover: time.