shocks aftershocks

Shocks and Aftershocks

In the autumn of 2005, the earth rose in wrath against the ancient hills of Kashmir. On the eighth day of October, a violent convulsion of 7.6 magnitude tore through the region, its epicentre lying a mere 19 kms northeast of Muzaffarabad. The tremor was felt far beyond Pakistan’s borders, reverberating through Afghanistan and Tajikistan, across the valleys of India, and even into the remote expanses of Xinjiang. It proved one of the deadliest natural disasters of that decade, claiming thousands of lives and reducing entire villages to rubble. For months the ground refused to rest; careful records later counted no fewer than 497 aftershocks between October and the following March. During such uncertainty a sobering lesson emerged; buildings erected with care and strength stood firm against the repeated tremors, while those raised hastily or without conscience crumbled into dust and despair.

A parallel drama of sudden upheaval and lingering aftershocks has unfolded more recently, though this time the forces at work have been those of human conflict rather than nature’s blind fury. Late in February 2026, long-simmering tensions between Iran and USA erupted into open warfare, with Israel joining the fray in decisive fashion. Large-scale aerial and missile assaults struck hundreds of targets across Iran, homing in upon military bases, nuclear facilities, and centres of leadership. The loss of Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, in the opening strikes sent shockwaves through the region and beyond. Tehran responded with barrages of missiles and swarms of drones that lit the night skies and struck at targets across several countries. For several weeks in March and April the fighting intensified, leaving thousands dead—most of them in Iran and Lebanon—and threatening to engulf wider circles of involvement involving Hezbollah and other actors. Shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, that vital artery of global energy, faced grave peril, and the world watched anxiously as oil supplies trembled on the edge of disruption.

A measure of relief arrived around the middle of June when a MOU was concluded between the United States and Iran. The accord promised a halt to major combat operations, the reopening of the strait to peaceful navigation, and the beginning of serious negotiations concerning Iran’s nuclear program. For a brief season hope flickered that reason might yet prevail. Yet by the seventh and eighth of July the ceasefire had fractured. Iranian forces struck at merchant vessels in the Hormuz passage; the United States answered with fresh waves of airstrikes and the reimposition of a naval blockade. Iran, in turn, launched retaliatory attacks upon American and coalition positions in Bahrain, Kuwait, Jordan, and elsewhere. As July draws toward its close, the pattern of nocturnal American strikes and Iranian counterblows continues, holding the Gulf in a state of restless tension.

Though the principal theatre of war lies distant from our frontiers, its aftershocks have travelled with merciless swiftness to the streets and bazaars of Pakistan. The initial convulsion in global oil markets followed hard upon the early phase of hostilities. Petrol prices in Pakistan surged to an unprecedented four hundred and fifty-eight rupees and forty-one paise per litre on the third of April—a record born of disrupted supplies and fevered speculation. Diesel climbed still higher, touching five hundred and twenty rupees and thirty-five paise. The consequences touched every corner of national life; transporters raised their fares, farmers faced higher costs for machinery and transport, and ordinary households tightened their belts as inflation rippled outward. For a time, as diplomatic channels—including Pakistan’s own quiet mediation efforts—bore fruit and the strait began to function once more, prices eased and a measure of stability returned. Yet the renewed outbreak of fighting in July has shattered that fragile calm. Oil prices have again become uncontrollable, climbing under the pressure of uncertainty and fresh speculation. The government, its options narrowed by heavy reliance on international loans and a vulnerable economy, has found itself compelled to adjust domestic fuel rates almost daily, basing decisions as much upon forecasts of future trouble as upon present realities.

Thus, the nation has endured a great initial shock followed by persistent aftershocks, much like the Kashmir earthquake two decades earlier. Each fresh tremor in the Gulf sends another wave through our foreign exchange reserves, our transport sector, and the fragile purchasing power of the common citizen. Industries dependent upon steady fuel supplies have curtailed operations; the cost of everyday commodities has risen in sympathy; and the burden has fallen most heavily upon those least able to bear it. Pakistan’s economy, long accustomed to navigating external storms while standing upon borrowed foundations, feels these disturbances with particular acuity.

Even in these challenging times, the dry wit of everyday Pakistanis remains unshaken. One recalls an incident from the days when the Daily Pakistan newspaper was under the ownership of Akbar Bhatti. A reporter rushed into the newsroom one afternoon declaring that Bhatti Sahib’s car had met with an accident. Before concern could fully form, another veteran journalist remarked with a knowing smile that this surely meant salaries would not arrive on time that month. The quip, though light, spoke volumes about the precariousness of life and livelihood when those at the helm encounter misfortune.

Pakistan has passed through many such seasons of trial—political upheavals, economic tempests, and natural calamities alike. Each time the nation has gathered its scattered strength, mended what could be mended, and pressed onward. The present difficulties arising from the conflict in the Gulf, with their daily toll upon fuel prices and economic confidence, constitute yet another test of our collective endurance. The strong institutions and resilient spirit of the people have served as anchors in the past; they remain our surest hope today. God willing, this too shall pass, and Pakistan shall emerge from these aftershocks steadier and more united, its foundations reinforced by hardship and its future secured by the unyielding will of its citizens.

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  • The Orchard Classroom: Remembering Dr Pervez Butt

    Dr Pervez Butt died on the 26th of July, 2026, at the age of 84, and with him Pakistan lost one of the last living architects of its nuclear age. The obituaries will rightly recount the long arc of his public service: joining the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission in 1963, cutting his teeth on the design of KANUPP-I, Pakistan’s first commercial nuclear power plant, spending years at GE Canada absorbing the discipline of reactor engineering, and eventually rising to chair the PAEC from 2001 to 2006 — a tenure during which he oversaw the expansion of Chashma and laid groundwork that would carry Pakistan’s nuclear power programme well into this century. He would go on to serve as Federal Secretary for Science and Technology, as an adviser at the Planning Commission, and, until his final days, as a quiet counsel to the National Command Authority. Nishan-i-Imtiaz, Hilal-i-Imtiaz, Sitara-i-Imtiaz — the honours are a matter of record.     But I did not know him first as a chairman or a decorated public servant. I knew him as a teacher who happened to hold the keys to some of the country’s most consequential engineering decisions, and who chose, for reasons I am still grateful for, to hand a few of those keys to me. I want to remember him the way I actually experienced him — not through the official biography, but through three long afternoons at his house in F-11 Sector, Islamabad, where he taught me something the textbooks never quite manage: how the price of nuclear electricity in Pakistan is actually determined. Anyone who has sat through a lecture on tariff determination knows how dry the subject can be made to sound — EPC cost, fuel cost, capacity purchase price, energy purchase price, indexation, decommissioning liability. Dr. Butt made none of it dry. He made it a ritual. Each session began the same way, and the way it began told you everything about the man. There was no walking straight into the numbers. First came tea — always a full spread of dry fruits, delicate sandwiches, fresh fruit, chana chaat, and cappuccino. It was in his drawing room that I had my first Cortado, and my first Mocha, both poured by a man who clearly took as much pride in introducing a good cup of coffee as he did in explaining a heat-rate calculation. Only once the plates were cleared did the real class begin. He held nothing back. The sessions ran from ten in the morning until nearly four in the afternoon — six hours at a stretch, with no formal lunch break at all. Instead, somewhere past midday, a trolley would appear, loaded with Lahori chanay and naan, and he would keep teaching straight through it, tariff formulas in one breath and the economics of fuel fabrication cost in the next, a piece of naan in hand the whole time. I have sat in university seminars with more structure and far less learned. What I remember most, though, is the break. Every two hours, without fail, he would stop — not because he was tired, but because he knew I smoked, and he had built an orchard directly across the road from his house for exactly this purpose. We would walk over together, and his waiter would already be there ahead of us, a fresh cappuccino on the table, an ashtray set out with wet tissue paper folded neatly beside it — a small, deliberate touch that told you this man planned for his guests down to the last detail. And it was in that orchard, not at his desk, that the real teaching happened. He would ask me, plainly, to repeat back what I had just understood. Not to test me — to correct me, gently, if I had drifted, and to make sure the idea had actually landed before we walked back inside for the next round. I was, I suspect, an unlikely student for him to invest that kind of care in. I have never been a person drawn to nuclear energy for its own sake — the physics of it, the fission and the neutrons and the reactor cores, left me largely unmoved. What pulled me toward him was the economics: how a country decides what a unit of nuclear electricity should cost, how the capital recovery on a plant like K-2 or C-3 gets built into a tariff, how fuel cost and EPC cost and decommissioning liability all get stitched together into a number that regulators can defend and the public can pay. That was the language I wanted to learn, and he taught it to me the way he taught everything — thoroughly, patiently, and without ever once looking at the clock. Looking back, I think that was the most VIP treatment anyone taught by him could have asked for — not a title, not a certificate, but three full days of a man who had chaired the PAEC choosing to spend his mornings, his working lunches, and his smoking breaks making sure a subject I hadn’t cared about a week earlier had become one I could speak on with confidence. Pakistan will remember Dr. Pervez Butt for KANUPP and Chashma, for the plants he helped design and the institutions he helped build — the Pakistan Welding Institute, the nondestructive testing facility at Taxila, decades spent quietly ensuring that a technically demanding and politically sensitive programme kept working. Those achievements belong to the history books, and they are considerable. I will remember the orchard. I will remember a Cortado poured by a man who insisted the tea come before the tariff, and a lecture that never stopped even for lunch. That was his real gift — not just what he knew, but how completely he was willing to give his time to make sure someone else knew it too. Rest well, sir. The lesson stayed.

  • Are Immigrants the Problem?

    A rise of anti immigration policies have been emerging rapidly across North America and Europe, especially in the United Kingdom and USA. The blue collar politicians and white people living there have expressed their concerns over these often labeled “illegal” immigrants causing crime and stealing the jobs of the “rightful” citizens. If looked closely upon, this is not about illegal immigration, rather it is a form of racism against the blacks, the Indians and rather anyone who is not white.   The United Kingdom had colonized a great part of the world which included the Indian subcontinent and a vast part of Africa along with other European colonizers whom they wanted to “civilize” as for them they were a “savage” race. This colonization resulted in thousands of black and Indian families migrating to Europe, especially the upper class who ought to receive English education and work in the British government.   This seems like a normal history dilemma where colonization led to great migrations and mixing, which the Europeans have now mayhaps forgotten. All over the UK, many rallies of white people have emerged in which they protested against immigration- however they in reality spread their similar racist views. These citizens may not realize the extent to which immigrants aided in growing the economy. If kicked out, the economy will collapse and suffer tremendously.   In recent years these anti immigration policies have caused major hurdles for students all over Asia, South America and Africa who are ambitious enough to study in the ivy leagues and settle abroad- however their visas being rejected have deteriorated their ambitions otherwise. This is being seen as a great disadvantage all over the world especially for the students who are forced into putting a hold on their education.   No more than the student, this poses a great threat to the Western countries themselves. Without the hands and minds of these students who are the future workforce who help stabilize and grow the economy, the countries will often suffer. Unlike most nations, Germany is seen as offering free education to these immigrants which has definitely bore the result making Germany one of the most powerful economies despite the restrictions imposed on them (after world war II).   The other side of this argument initiates from the government of respective countries like Pakistan whom the students and workers emigrate from- their government stating that they are much needed to support their own respective economies. Nevertheless, the great amount of corruption, instability and discrimination are the reasons in the first place for workers to emigrate seeking better secure jobs abroad. It is hard to revive the patriotic heart of civilians when the governments do not work in favour of them.   “France for the French” was said by Jean-Marie Le Pen since the immigrants are apparently threatening the French identity. The same french is spoken in 20 African countries who were forcefully colonized and turned into slaves, the countries who had their own languages (hundreds of them), cultures and identities. So it often seems extremely hypocritical to hear statements such as these.   Consequently, the immigrants framed as criminals are the result of centuries old racist ideologies. They pose no threat but the threat of looking different, which is again ironically hypocritical since white race is a minority in the world. Hence, even in the ripe year of 2026 racism thrives and the rest of the world suffers. Comments like “Immigration is not an opportunity. It is a tragedy.” ( by Marine Le Pen) are made openly without facing any backlash- instead receive grave support. Mayhaps immigration can stop once the British return the koh-e-noor, jewels and trillions of dollars worth of resources stolen from the sub continent.

  • Ecolinguistics and the Role of Media

    The role of media should not be confined to disseminating news and information but must also highlight public awareness regarding climate change. The media, in its reporting, is required to use appropriate terminology and diction to raise awareness, highlight the causes, and provide a way forward. The media, in its reporting, is expected to project the environment not as a resource to be used by humans but as a living environmental and ecological process that must not be disturbed by humans. For example, while writing such reports, if the media says that natural resources are diminishing or facing extinction, it must similarly highlight that the environmental system is being affected or impacted negatively . Recent studies have also reinforced this perspective. Penz and Fill (2022) observe that ecolinguistics promotes and fosters environmental awareness while supporting and strengthening the connection between humans and nature for sustainable development. In this context, Alexander and Stibbe (2014) argue that ecolinguistics plays a key role in highlighting the relationship between humans and the environment, as well as its impact on addressing environmental challenges and shaping a sustainable future. It is pertinent to highlight that while reporting any incident about environmental degradation or natural disasters, the media, apart from reporting, is also expected to provide solutions and a way forward to help face such incidents in the future. In reports about floods, wildfires, and rising temperatures, the media is also required to provide guidance and suggestions on how to combat or lessen the impacts of such environmental changes. The reporting must not be based only on presenting news and subsequently creating fear or chaos but must also give a sense of hope among people that through various techniques and the use of technology, such natural disasters can be managed effectively. The media must not consider floods, droughts, fires, or other environmental disasters merely as natural disasters but should link such impacts with environmental changes, industrial pollution, deforestation, human intervention with nature, and so on. Fairclough (1995), in his study, states that media should cover and highlight the areas that , on the other hand, are ignored and not given consideration by the masses. Therefore, the media is expected to sensitize the masses regarding such disasters and create a way forward to combat or tackle such environmental change disasters and their impacts on people and society as a whole. On the other hand, equally important is environmental equity or justice in society. It has been widely observed and noted that in floods, droughts, disasters, and environmental changes, the major impacts are faced by the underprivileged in society. It is the role and responsibility of the media to highlight and become a voice for such voiceless people, representing them and creating a sense of ownership among the poor and marginalized sections of society. The media is also required to highlight and create awareness among people about science and technology related to the environment and provide them with knowledge that through the use of such technology, they can tackle the horrors of disasters. The study of ecolinguistics reminds the media that humans are, in no way, different from society and can never be detached from society and vice versa. Hence, media reports are also expected to discuss humans, rivers, oceans, flora, fauna, biodiversity, and the ecosystem as a whole to give them significance and bring them into the limelight of the coverage. Media reporting is also required to use environment related terminology and diction, such as environmental war, ecological emergency, and other relevant terms, in its reports to highlight environment related information. Recent studies highlight that similes and metaphors have a significant impact on human thinking. Hence, the media is encouraged to resort to this method to mould public opinion towards environmental conservation and protection. Moreover, media personnel are required to engage in investigative journalism and cover incidents and events from different angles , examining their pros and cons deeply. If there are frequent flash floods in any area, the media is expected to discuss the causes and the role of concerned authorities in handling the incidents . Media houses, along with environmental protection organizations and other stakeholders, are required to impart knowledge and training to journalists. There is also a significant role for environmental funding organizations in sensitizing media personnel. In training sessions, they are expected to invite environmental experts, scientists, and scholars who have made significant contributions in this area. Media reports and the diction used therein have great significance. They must highlight a green and stable future through sustainable development initiatives and become partners in facing the challenges and effects of environmental degradation. They must give hope to people that the media stands with them and will continue contributing its responsible and positive role. This is the major objective of ecolinguistics. Societies such as ours widely need the use of ecolinguistics in the media.

  • Trump talks, Iran denies, Pakistan mediates

    I have lost count of how many times I have written this sentence. Trump announces a possible dialogue with Iran. Iran denies it within hours. Then Pakistan quietly steps in to keep the peace alive. I sit down to write about it again, and I feel a strange mixture of hope and exhaustion. This cycle has repeated itself so many times since this war began that I could write it in my sleep. Let me walk you through what happened this time, because I think you deserve to understand the pattern as clearly as I do. President Donald Trump took to his social media platform Truth Social and declared that Washington and Tehran are talking. He said Iran may not admit it, but both nations are working through a problem that has lingered for decades. He accused Iranian leaders of playing a double game. He said the outcome will be one of two things. Either a deal gets made, or Iran faces what he called complete surrender. He also insisted that America will never let Iran get its hands on a nuclear weapon. Then, right on cue, Iran said no. Foreign ministry spokesman Esmaeil Baghaei stood before reporters and rejected every word of it. He said there are no negotiations happening with the United States. He said the only contact right now involves Oman, and it concerns nothing more than keeping ships moving safely through the Strait of Hormuz. I want you to notice something here. This is not a new argument. I have watched this exact exchange play out again and again. One side claims talks are happening. The other side flatly denies it. And somewhere in the middle, the truth probably sits quietly, waiting for someone honest enough to admit it. This is where Pakistan enters the picture, as it so often does. Turkish news agency Anadolu reported that Pakistan and Qatar are working to arrange a new round of direct talks. Islamabad and Doha are both being considered as possible venues where America and Iran might eventually sit across from each other again. I find this part of the story important, and I do not think it gets enough credit. Pakistan helped broker something called the Islamabad Memorandum of Understanding, which brought about a ceasefire back in June. That agreement asked both sides to stop military action, keep the Strait of Hormuz open for trade, and begin serious talks on Iran’s nuclear program and American sanctions. Iranian parliamentary spokesman Hassan Gashghavi confirmed that mediating countries are now trying to breathe new life into that same agreement. Deputy Prime Minister and foreign minister Ishaq Dar spoke by phone with his Iranian counterpart, Abbas Araghchi, on Monday. They discussed the broader situation in the region and the ongoing diplomatic efforts across the Middle East. Dar also invited Araghchi to visit Pakistan soon. I keep coming back to one question as I write this. How many more times will I have to write this same story? How many more announcements, denials, and quiet rescues will it take before something actually holds? I will be honest with you. I am tired of writing about tension. I am tired of watching one side hint at peace while the other side pulls back. I am tired of hearing familiar names promise a resolution that never quite arrives. But I still hold onto something, and I think you should too. I hope this is the last time I have to write this cycle. I hope the next headline is not about another denial or another delayed meeting. I hope it is about a real, lasting peace, the kind that does not need Pakistan or Qatar or anyone else to keep rescuing it.

  • Every Year, Same Old Fight

    Every August, right on schedule, my phone starts buzzing. Friends send me lists. WhatsApp group start heated debates. Neighbours stop me at the corner shop. Someone always has an opinion about who made it onto Pakistan’s civil awards list this year, and someone always has an even louder opinion about who got left off. I have seen this happen so many times now that I could almost set my watch by it. The list comes out, the arguments start, and by the time the dust settles, nobody remembers what the fuss was even about. The award list carries the names which we like the most, and unfortunately, it carries those names, which do not like. I want to tell you something I have come to believe after watching this cycle play out year after year. This debate we keep having, about who deserved a medal and who did not, is about as useful as arguing over which cloud looks more like a rabbit. It never ends, and it never really goes anywhere either. People pick their favourites, defend them like family, and forget the whole point of what an award is supposed to mean in the first place. Here is the real point, plain and simple. An award is not a popularity contest. It is not a reward for showing up. It is meant for something extraordinary. Something exceptional. A person who did work so far above the ordinary that the state felt it had to stand up and say thank you in front of everybody. Now here is where the story gets interesting, and honestly, a little strange. An economist named Zehra Farooq sat down and did something most of us never bother to do. She pulled together every single civil award given out over nine years, all 2,209 of them, and looked at the pattern. What she found should stop us all in our tracks. Back in 2018, only 73 people received awards. By 2026, that number had climbed to 372. That is five times as many people being called extraordinary in less than a decade. Think about what that actually means. If we are handing out that many more awards for exceptional service, it should follow that we have more and more exceptional people walking among us. Teachers going beyond the call. Officers solving problems nobody else could touch. Scientists, engineers, public servants, all rising to meet the moment. That is what a growing list of honourees is supposed to tell us. But here is the part that keeps me up at night. If we truly have this many extraordinary minds working for the good of the country, why does the country not feel more extraordinary? Why do our institutions still creak and groan the way they always have? Why does public service still feel, for so many ordinary citizens, like an uphill climb rather than a smooth road paved by all this supposed excellence? Something does not add up. Either the definition of extraordinary has quietly loosened over the years, or the excellence being honoured is not translating into the everyday experience of the people it is meant to serve. Farooq’s numbers also show something else worth sitting with. Women still make up only around ten to sixteen percent of recipients, a share that has barely moved in nine years, and their share shrinks even further at the highest levels of honour. So the next time the list comes out and the arguments start flying, I hope we can steer the conversation somewhere more useful. Instead of fighting over names, let us ask why the growth in awards has not translated into a more exemplary, more ideal society. That is the debate worth having. That is the one that might actually change something.

  • Ending the Insurgency in Months, Not Decades: What…

    I have stood in places most policymakers only read about in briefing papers. I spent time in Afghanistan during the Ashraf Ghani years, and the whole of 2010 in what was then Ex-FATA — a zone so dangerous that even seasoned aid workers called it the place where devils refuse to go. Later, I worked on rehabilitation efforts in Azad Jammu and Kashmir. None of what I am about to argue is theoretical. It is drawn from villages of EX-FATA I walked through, water I watched women carry for miles on donkeys, and children I saw crossing frozen ground without shoes while, an hour’s drive away, the Afghan elite lived behind walls that looked like fortresses. That contrast is the whole story of why the Taliban won. Over two decades, the Western-backed Afghanistan collapsed not primarily on the battlefield but in the space between Kabul’s donor-funded skyline and the rural provinces that never saw a rupee — or a dollar — of that money trickle down. Billions moved through Kabul. Almost none of it moved past it. Into that vacuum, the Taliban did not need to conquer the countryside. They simply had to show up where the state never had, and offer order where there was only neglect. In 2010, in FATA, I watched the same mechanism recruit teenage boys into suicide bombing — and the driving force was rarely ideology in its purest form. It was poverty, weaponised by men who understood exactly how to turn deprivation into obedience. I say this because Pakistan is now watching its own soldiers and citizens bleed in Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and Azad Jammu and Kashmir, and we keep mistaking the symptom for the disease. In Balochistan, it is poor living conditions and the absence of work that push young men toward the BLA and other militant groups — not some inherited hatred of the state, but the calculation of someone with nothing left to lose. In KPK, mining activity that could employ tens of thousands sits frozen, and extremist preachers walk into that economic silence with a ready-made narrative of grievance, exactly as I watched happen in FATA 16 years ago. In Azad Jammu & Kashmir (AJK), where I subsequently served on the front lines of post-disaster rehabilitation, the work executed under the leadership of General Musharraf and Lieutenant General Nadeem was nothing short of extraordinary. They transformed the region—erecting world-class infrastructure that spanned rural housing, modern hospitals, and state-of-the-art universities. Having witnessed his work firsthand, I can unhesitatingly attest that Lt. Gen. Nadeem exemplified the highest standards of professional integrity and selfless duty in the field. Regrettably, subsequent regimes, particularly the current political regime, failed to capitalize on this monumental achievement. Worse still, political negotiators deliberately suppressed these successes under strict orders to deny General Musharraf the credit he rightly deserved It was neither the foreign conspiracies spun about Modi nor the shadow plays attributed to Netanyahu that brought us to our knees—it was the quiet, deliberate treason of our own. The true architects of our ruin sat comfortably in our own cabinets, presiding over the Ministry of Planning and the Ministry of Petroleum. Let the record be unsealed, and let the ledger of corruption show the reality of our sabotage. While the global solar revolution was gaining unstoppable, undeniable momentum as far back as 2012, our planners turned a blind eye to the sun. Instead, they peddled dirty imported coal and structurally flawed LNG infrastructure, deceitfully masquerading them as national “game-changers.” They were not mistakes; they were choices. They willfully shackled this nation to predatory FSRU contracts, riddled with toxic force majeure loopholes that bled our public treasury dry to enrich foreign syndicates and domestic middlemen. Their actions expose a chilling, unvarnished truth: capital was never the bottleneck. Financial constraints were a myth. The true poverty of this nation was the shameless, treasonous lack of political will to break free from the payout loop and build a sovereign future. According to Pakistan’s own energy regulator, NEPRA, consumers were burdened with roughly Rs1.81 trillion in capacity payments in fiscal year 2024–25 alone — fixed payments to power producers simply for having plants available, regardless of whether they generated a single unit of electricity. That figure made up 61 percent of the country’s entire power purchase cost. On a per-unit basis, Pakistanis paid roughly Rs14.3 for capacity alone, compared to about Rs9.0 for the energy actually consumed. Multiply that pattern across recent years and the country has handed over trillions of rupees to keep idle machinery on standby, while Pakistani manufacturers pay electricity rates nearly double what their competitors pay in India and Vietnam, hollowing out the very industries that could have employed the young men now being recruited by militants instead. Even a third of what has been paid out in capacity charges over the past five years — redirected honestly into youth employment programs in KPK, Balochistan, and AJK — would have done more to end this insurgency than any military operation conducted so far. This is not sentiment. It is arithmetic that any finance ministry could run in an afternoon. And here the accountability question becomes unavoidable. The man who, as federal minister for petroleum and natural resources from 2013 to 2018, championed the LNG import architecture that helped lock Pakistan into the very capacity-payment structure now crushing consumers, later became Prime Minister of Pakistan. He subsequently faced formal NAB proceedings, an indictment, and questions in court over unexplained deposits connected to that period — a matter of public record, still contested by his supporters as political victimization, but investigated nonetheless by the country’s own anti-graft body. I raise this not to relitigate one man’s guilt or innocence in a courtroom I am not sitting in, but to make a structural point: the same energy policy architecture that produced Pakistan’s capacity-payment crisis was built, negotiated, and defended by people who moved seamlessly from ministry to premiership to private life, largely untouched by the consequences their decisions imposed on

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