The AJK Unrest

By Tuba Khan Informal networks represent an extremely important yet widely ignored aspect of governance, especially within developing nations whose formal administrative apparatus is either weak or disputed. Informal institutions refer to uncodified norms and traditions that influence decision-making processes in ways beyond the reach of legal processes. As far as the informal networks are concerned, they can include networks of patronage, kinship and alliances based on personal connections. In countries with hybrid governance structures such as Pakistan where formalized democratic mechanisms co-exist with informal structures, a clear distinction between formal institutions from informal institutions must be made for effective governance. In Pakistan, informal networks do not exist in parallel with institutionalized structures of governance; they actually become the central point around which power operates. Despite having formal governmental structures intact, the informal networks become quite important and influential. There exists a high level of interaction between political, military, bureaucratic and commercial elites. The origins of the informal networks in Pakistan’s governance system are rooted in the colonial era when the governance system of the British was based mainly on the principles of indirect governance. Alongside formal institutionalized structures of governance, the colonial rulers gave powers to local intermediaries in the form of local landlords, tribal chieftains and other local power-brokers. This led to the development of patronage systems and kinship power, which were based on caste and biradari relations. Since its inception in 1947, Pakistan has experienced a very weak governance system. In the absence of stable and fully consolidated democratic institutions, the informal networks took on greater importance in political activities. These informal networks were strengthened by the repeated involvement of the powerful actors in political matters. The periods of outright military takeover or indirect control through civilian regimes cemented a structure where important decisions were frequently taken without recourse to institutionalized processes. The military, along with bureaucrats and politicians, established networks that could affect the policy agenda, political succession and even national interests. Resultantly, this trend continued to blur the lines between formal and informal authority. Islamization strategies of the 1970s and 1980s further broadened the informal networks by involving religious figures in the politics of Pakistan. Religious leaders can trigger religious sentiments and thus influence public opinion according to the needs of influential networks. So, in many cases, the government depended on the clergy and their organizations to mobilize mass support, which gave rise to interchanges of mutual benefits between religious and political authorities. Since the 1990s, liberalization in the economy and growth of the media industry have introduced new players into informal networks. Informal networks have several mechanisms within Pakistan through which they exercise their authority. Patronage stands out as one such mechanism where rewards and resources, such as employment opportunities within the public sector, campaign financing and even electoral loyalty are offered in exchange for support. On the other hand, back-channel negotiations conducted outside formal channels, such as Parliament and cabinet meetings, are vital in influencing the decision-making process of the state. Furthermore, elites are capable of hijacking policy-making processes and diverting resources in ways beneficial to themselves. Additionally, the media often mobilize people and give political power some form of moral legitimacy through propaganda. There are many implications of the existence of informal networks on the efficiency of the governance process. One of the major impacts is the undermining of formal institutional structures and electoral practices. Checks and balances, as well as the legislative process itself are often ignored or used solely for show purposes, while the real process of decision-making is handled through the use of private contacts and backdoor diplomacy. Another important implication is that the culture of corruption and inefficiency continues to persist. Patronage-driven systems tend to give preference to loyalty as opposed to competence, which leads to the appointment of people and the distribution of resources in a manner that is unrelated to development and the needs of the people at large. Policies tend to be revised according to changes in the interests of those in positions of authority, ultimately hindering the way to stability. To counter the effects of informal networks in Pakistan, the gradual development of formal institutions needs to take place instead of abruptly altering the current political environment. The starting point for designing a reform package is to redefine the role of the state. It is critical to ensure institutional independence, transparency of decision-making processes, meritocracy, citizen participation, press freedom and the accountability for the excessive influence of religious and economic elites to decrease dependence on informal institutions. Prevalence of informal political institutions in Pakistan causes several problems for the country’s political system. Formal institutions are often sidelined or rendered symbolic, leading to policy inconsistency and the undermining of democratic accountability. Nevertheless, the existence of informal groups is entrenched in the system and cannot be completely eliminated, their impact can be progressively restricted. This serves as an indication that reforms should be incremental and continuous

Every age has its favourite political illusion. Ours is the belief that if a state redraws its map, it can redraw its destiny. The illusion is neither new nor uniquely Pakistani. Throughout history, rulers confronted with public discontent have often reached first for the cartographer rather than the reformer. Kingdoms were partitioned, provinces were multiplied and capitals were relocated with the promise that a new administrative design would produce a new political reality. Sometimes it did. More often, the map changed while the lives of ordinary people remained stubbornly the same. The road stayed broken. The school remained understaffed. The hospital still lacked medicines. Geography had moved; governance had not. Pakistan has once again arrived at one of those historical moments. The debate over new provinces has returned with renewed intensity. South Punjab, Bahawalpur, Hazara and, occasionally, urban Sindh have re-entered political discourse. Television studios debate new boundaries with remarkable confidence. Politicians promise administrative revolutions. Constitutional amendments are drafted, revised and forgotten. Yet beneath all these proposals lies a single assumption that Pakistan’s crisis is fundamentally geographical. It is an attractive assumption because geography is visible. A new province can be announced, celebrated and printed on official maps within months. Institutions do not yield so easily. Honest administration, competent bureaucracy, independent local government and accountable public service demand years of patient political labour. They produce fewer headlines than constitutional amendments, but they determine whether citizens experience the state as a servant or a burden. This is not an argument against creating new provinces. It is an argument against believing that new provinces alone can rescue a failing administrative culture. The debate deserves seriousness rather than slogans because the pressures giving rise to it are entirely real. According to the 2023 Population and Housing Census, Pakistan’s population has exceeded 250 million, making it the fifth most populous country in the world. Punjab alone contains approximately 127 million people—more inhabitants than almost every country in Europe. Balochistan stretches across nearly forty-four per cent of Pakistan’s landmass while containing only a small fraction of its population. Sindh continues to experience one of the fastest rates of urbanisation in South Asia. Such demographic realities naturally provoke questions about administrative efficiency, regional representation and equitable development. Communities demanding new provinces are therefore not merely inventing grievances. South Punjab has long argued that development has been disproportionately concentrated in central Punjab. Bahawalpur invokes historical identity and constitutional commitments made at the time of accession. Hazara has repeatedly asserted that its political priorities differ from those of the wider Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. These demands arise from genuine perceptions of administrative neglect and unequal political influence. A mature federation should listen carefully before dismissing them. Yet listening carefully also requires asking difficult questions. If the existing provinces have themselves become highly centralised, why should another layer of provincial government automatically bring authority closer to the people? If citizens already struggle to persuade provincial bureaucracies to repair roads, improve schools or manage municipal services, why should replacing one provincial capital with another necessarily transform that experience? Is Pakistan’s principal challenge really the number of provinces, or is it the distance that has gradually grown between government and the governed? History offers reasons for caution. In 1955, Pakistan adopted the One Unit Scheme, merging the provinces of West Pakistan into a single administrative entity. The stated objective was efficiency, administrative coherence and national integration. Instead, the policy deepened provincial resentments, weakened regional identities only in theory and strengthened them in practice. By 1970, the experiment had collapsed. The map had changed twice within fifteen years, but governance had not become more responsive. The lesson was clear enough for anyone willing to see it— political legitimacy cannot be manufactured by administrative engineering alone. The framers of the 1973 Constitution attempted a different approach. They recognised Pakistan as a federation in which diversity would be accommodated rather than erased. Decades later, the Eighteenth Amendment significantly expanded provincial autonomy, transferring important subjects—including health, education and culture—from the federation to the provinces. Many constitutional scholars rightly regarded it as one of the most consequential democratic reforms in Pakistan’s constitutional history. Yet an uncomfortable paradox remains. If greater provincial autonomy was expected to produce more responsive government, why do so many Pakistanis still experience the same frustrations in their daily dealings with public institutions? Why do overcrowded hospitals, deteriorating municipal services, inadequate schools and inaccessible bureaucracies continue to dominate public complaints? Perhaps because Pakistan decentralised authority from Islamabad to provincial capitals but never completed the journey from provincial capitals to the people themselves. That distinction lies at the heart of the present debate. The real question before Pakistan is therefore not whether the federation should eventually have four provinces, six provinces or eight. Every federation evolves with changing demographic, political and economic realities. The more fundamental question is whether power should continue to accumulate in increasingly distant capitals or finally begin to reside where citizens actually live—in districts, municipalities, towns and villages. Before Pakistan redraws another map, it must first decide what government is supposed to do. A state exists not to administer territory but to serve people. Maps are only instruments; institutions are the purpose. When governments forget that distinction, they begin to mistake the appearance of reform for reform itself. The debate over new provinces is therefore important. But it is important for a reason larger than cartography. It compels Pakistan to confront a more profound constitutional question, does the country require more provinces, or does it require government that is finally prepared to come closer to its citizens? History possesses an inconvenient habit of refusing to validate political shortcuts. Nations that confuse administrative rearrangement with institutional reform usually discover, sooner or later, that maps can change more quickly than governments. The temptation to redraw boundaries is understandable because it promises visible action. Yet the record of history suggests that boundaries alone seldom transform the quality of governance. Pakistan’s own constitutional evolution illustrates this truth. At independence in 1947, the new state inherited

By Engineer Arshad H Abbasi, ahabasi@gmail.com, edited by Engineer Musa Arshad H Abbasi I write this from Islamabad, not as a diplomat or a historian, but as someone who spends his working life measuring rivers, glaciers, and energy systems — and who has spent the last year watching the instruments of my own profession become instruments of geopolitics instead. I am a water, energy and climate professional, not an expert in international relations. But you do not need a doctorate in strategic studies to feel what it means to live in a capital that sits within reach of two active fronts at once, and to watch a third, farther away, threaten the fuel that keeps my own country’s lights on. To the east, the Indus itself has become a weapon in a dispute I once only studied on paper. Since April 23, 2025, one day after the Pahalgam attack killed 26 people in Jammu and Kashmir, India has held the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty in abeyance, and as recently as July 3, 2026, New Delhi reaffirmed the suspension will continue until Pakistan “credibly and irrevocably” ends cross-border terrorism. Pakistan calls any interruption of that water an act of war. I measure river flows for a living, and I can tell you that a treaty which survived two wars and decades of hostility between 1960 and 2025 was never really about engineering — it was about restraint. Watching that restraint erode between two nuclear-armed neighbors, over a river that irrigates the fields I grew up walking beside, is not an abstraction to me. It is personal. To the west, the war that began on February 28, 2026 between the United States, Israel, and Iran has turned the Strait of Hormuz — the channel that once carried roughly a quarter of the world’s seaborne oil and a fifth of its LNG — into a contested chokepoint. Iranian forces have mined and attacked shipping there on and off for months; a ceasefire and a June memorandum of understanding collapsed in July when Iran resumed strikes on vessels it deemed noncompliant. Even now, in mid-August, Tehran and Oman are still negotiating the terms under which the strait might fully reopen. Every Pakistani household that has watched fuel prices swing this year has felt that war, even though it is being fought a thousand miles from here. And Pakistan’s own western border is no longer a metaphor for instability — it is an active one. Since February 2026, Pakistan and Afghanistan have fought what both sides’ own defense ministries have called open war along the 1893 Durand Line, with Pakistani airstrikes on Nangarhar and Kabul, an Afghan cross-border offensive, and casualty claims running into the hundreds on each side before Qatar- and Turkey-mediated pauses briefly held. I know these are not the only fires burning on this continent, and an honest accounting has to look past South Asia. In Southeast Asia, a century-old dispute between Thailand and Cambodia over the ancient temples of Preah Vihear and Ta Muen Thom erupted twice in 2025 — first in July, then again in December — leaving at least 101 people dead and forcing more than half a million civilians from their homes before a fragile ceasefire, signed December 27, brought an uneasy calm. In East Asia, the map is a thicket of overlapping claims: China and Taiwan over the island’s sovereignty itself; China and Japan over the Senkaku/Diaoyu islands in the East China Sea; China and the Philippines over Scarborough Shoal and reefs across the South China Sea; and Japan and its neighbors over a scattering of other contested waters that keep regional navies on constant alert. Indonesia and Malaysia, too, carry an unresolved history — the armed 1960s Konfrontasi and a maritime boundary dispute over the oil-rich Ambalat block in the Sulawesi Sea that periodically flares even between otherwise friendly neighbors. And running beneath all of it is the oldest fault line of all: the decades-long conflict between Israel and its Arab neighbors, still reshaping alliances and battlefields from Gaza to Lebanon to Yemen, where Houthi strikes on Saudi infrastructure continue even this month. Set against all of that, look at Central Asia — building transit corridors instead of trench lines, settling water and border disputes through negotiation rather than force, and courting the same investors that war has driven away from South Asia, the Gulf, and the South China Sea. Even the Armenia-Azerbaijan peace process next door, however unfinished — initialed in Washington in August 2025, still unsigned a year later over Armenia’s constitutional language — has produced something rarer than victory: an actual framework both sides keep returning to, rather than abandoning for the battlefield. While I want to avoid romanticizing Central Asia to those who know the region far better than I do, it stands as a compelling model for peace. The region offers a practical demonstration that Asian states can prioritize economic integration over territorial reflexes—a choice that others, from Islamabad to Phnom Penh to Manila, have yet to make. The Ledger of Conflict: A Continent Still at War With Itself It is worth setting all of this down in one place, because scattered across a dozen news cycles it is easy to lose the scale of it. India–Pakistan, Kashmir and the Indus Waters Treaty. Held in abeyance since April 23, 2025; reaffirmed as of July 2026 to remain suspended until Pakistan “irrevocably” ends cross-border terrorism, in a dispute that touches the water security of more than 300 million people and involves two nuclear-armed states that have already fought a war in 2025. Iran, Israel, and the United States. War since February 28, 2026, with Iranian attacks on shipping through the Strait of Hormuz — a corridor carrying roughly a quarter of the world’s seaborne oil and a fifth of its LNG — still unresolved as Tehran and Oman negotiate terms for reopening it, even this month. Pakistan–Afghanistan, the Durand Line. Open war since February 2026 between two governments that have never

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

As the fourth week of the US–Israel military campaign against Iran unfolded in March 2026, a major geopolitical shift reshaped South Asia and the Middle East. For years, India’s rise under Narendra Modi had dominated regional diplomacy while Pakistan faced marginalization and economic struggles. However, the outbreak of war in West Asia created an opportunity for Pakistan to leverage its geography and relationships to regain global relevance. Within weeks, Pakistan mounted a proactive and unified diplomatic effort led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and military chief Field Marshal Asim Munir, reversing its isolation and, according to observers, redirecting diplomatic pressure toward India. This “peace offensive” highlighted Pakistan’s strategic agility and exposed perceived weaknesses in India’s foreign policy, marking a striking turnaround in regional influence. This resurgence began after the US and Israel launched their offensive against Iran on February 28, 2026, forcing countries into difficult alignments. Pakistan instead positioned itself as a neutral stabilizer, maintaining ties with both the United States and Iran while emphasizing its stake in de-escalation due to its shared border with Iran. A rare civil-military unity drove this strategy: Sharif engaged the Muslim world and framed mediation as a moral duty, including direct outreach to Iran’s president, while Munir used high-level connections in Washington to open backchannel communications. His rapport with US leadership enabled message exchanges between American and Iranian officials, helping establish a temporary de-escalation and cementing Pakistan’s role as a key diplomatic intermediary. The effectiveness of this two-pronged approach became evident when President Trump announced a conditional pause on plans to “obliterate” Iranian energy infrastructure. In his announcement on the Truth Social platform, Trump cited “VERY GOOD AND PRODUCTIVE” conversations, a tacit acknowledgment of the behind-the-scenes efforts being made by Pakistan. Building on this momentum, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif made a formal, public offer on March 24, 2026, stating that Pakistan “stands ready and honoured to be the host to facilitate meaningful and conclusive talks” between the United States and Iran. In an extraordinary diplomatic signal that underscored the shift in Washington’s attitude toward Islamabad, President Trump reposted Sharif’s offer on his Truth Social account. This repost was widely interpreted by analysts and officials in Islamabad as Washington’s de facto endorsement of Pakistan’s emerging role as a credible and neutral mediator, capable of hosting what would be a historic breakthrough in one of the world’s most volatile conflicts. While the White House cautioned that such talks remained speculative, the very fact that Pakistan was being discussed as a potential venue—and that its leadership was publicly coordinating with Turkey and Egypt to secure a fragile pause in hostilities—represented a monumental diplomatic victory for a nation that had spent years trying to shake off its image as an international pariah. The strategic ramifications of Pakistan’s diplomatic surge extend far beyond the immediate conflict in West Asia, striking directly at the heart of India’s long-standing foreign policy objectives under Prime Minister Modi. For years, a central pillar of India’s global strategy was the policy of isolating Pakistan, portraying it as a sponsor of terrorism and an unstable, economically faltering state. By deepening India’s strategic partnerships with Western powers, including the United States, Israel, and the Gulf monarchies, New Delhi sought to limit Islamabad’s diplomatic space and marginalize its influence on the world stage. However, Pakistan’s performance as the lead mediator in the US-Iran conflict has fundamentally challenged this narrative. By demonstrating that it possesses “strategic synergy” and can act as a “responsible nuclear power” and a stabilizing force, Pakistan has proven itself to be an “indispensable actor” in a crisis where a larger power like India cannot provide the same utility. This development has been described by scholars like Vali Nasr as a calculated and highly effective move to prove that Pakistan is more than a “problem child,” capable of “walking the talk” on global peace. This reversal has been so stark that it has prompted open criticism of the Modi government from within India itself. Congress leader Jairam Ramesh, a prominent voice in the Indian opposition, issued a series of scathing statements on March 24, 2026, acknowledging that Pakistan’s diplomatic engagement and narrative management had been “markedly superior to that of the Modi Govt”. Ramesh went further, stating that the international media reports identifying Pakistan as a potential intermediary represented a “severe setback and rebuff to India”. He directly attributed this disadvantage to the “self-styled Vishwaguru” (world leader) foreign policy of Prime Minister Modi, arguing that despite India’s military successes, its diplomatic space in the region had shrunk over the previous year. A key point of criticism was Modi’s “ill-advised” visit to Israel just days before the US-Israel strikes on Iran, a move that Ramesh and other analysts argued fatally compromised any claim India might have had to neutrality in the conflict. In contrast, Pakistan, despite being a close US ally, was able to maintain a balanced posture, leveraging its ties with both Washington and Tehran to become the preferred interlocutor. The once-celebrated “hug diplomacy” of Prime Minister Modi, which sought to build deep personal relationships with global leaders, was now being characterized by critics as “brutally exposed,” unable to compete with the practical, geostrategic value that Pakistan was able to offer in a moment of acute crisis. The architect of Pakistan’s success in securing such favorable access to the US administration is widely acknowledged to be Field Marshal Asim Munir, whose efforts to rebuild ties with Washington began long before the war with Iran erupted. Throughout 2025, Munir engaged in a methodical campaign to reverse the diplomatic isolation that Pakistan experienced during the Biden administration. A pivotal moment came when Pakistan nominated President Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, citing his role in de-escalating tensions between India and Pakistan. This shrewd move, which played to Trump’s well-known desire for the prestigious award, was rewarded with an invitation for Munir to a one-on-one White House lunch—a privilege rarely granted to a foreign military leader who was not also a head of state. Furthermore, Pakistan aligned

A great game changer, the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), which was launched in its first phase in 2013, has since emerged as a flagship initiative of strategic significance, fostering regional connectivity, economic growth and socio-economic development while reinforcing the enduring partnership between Pakistan and China. Over the past decade, CPEC has transitioned from a vision of connectivity into a comprehensive development framework, delivering tangible progress across key sectors and contributing to Pakistan’s economic transformation. After the quite successful completion of the first phase, brisk preparations are underway in Beijing and Islamabad at the appropriate high levels, under the leadership of Chinese President Xi Jinping and Pakistani Prime Minister Muhammad Shehbaz Sharif, for formally launching CPEC 2.0 during 2026. According to the information gathered from the official sources concerned, on the Long-Term Plan, the 14th ICC formally agreed to review the CPEC Long-Term Plan (2017-30) in the light of the Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) on alignment of the CPEC five corridors with the National Economic Transformation Plan (URAAN Pakistan) and the action plan to foster an even closer China-Pakistan community. The 14th ICC had further directed the adoption of the action plan for fostering an even closer China-Pakistan community with a shared future in the new era (2025-2029), signed in September 2025. The 14th ICC had also further directed the adoption of the action plan as the guiding document for CPEC 2.0, and an action matrix accordingly has been prepared by the official quarters concerned and shared with the ministries and divisions of the Federal Government. Inter-agency consultations on the revised Long-Term Plan (LTP) were underway. As regards socio-economic development, about 15 out of 17 approved projects have since been quite successfully completed, while two remaining projects were reported to be at an advanced stage of execution and were expected to be finalized soon. Furthermore, seven new development initiatives have been proposed under the third batch and submitted to the China International Development Cooperation Agency for consideration and approval. These projects include the provision of modern agricultural machinery and equipment for agro-mechanization, the supply of fiberglass fishing boats to coastal communities, the construction of a fish-landing jetty at Gwadar to strengthen the fisheries value chain, the establishment of integrated cold-chain systems for horticulture and perishable products, and other livelihood-oriented interventions aimed at enhancing local productivity, food security, employment generation, and export potential in underserved regions. During the year, efficiency improvement measures were taken in the power sector for enhancing operational performance, improving grid stability, and optimizing the utilization of existing generation and transmission infrastructure. Stakeholder consultations were also conducted for addressing issues related to bulk electricity supply for Special Economic Zones (SEZs), aimed at facilitating industrialization and investment under CPEC 2.0. A major achievement of the sector was the continued utilization of indigenous Thar coal resources, which contributed towards reducing dependence on imported fuels, strengthening energy security, conserving foreign exchange reserves, and ensuring reliable base-load electricity supply for industrial and domestic consumers. As regards transport infrastructure, the upgradation of the Main Line-1 (ML-1) railway project, spanning approximately 1,872 km from Karachi to Peshawar, remained a strategic priority under bilateral cooperation. During the reporting period, third-party financing discussions by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) and Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) advanced for the Karachi-Rohri section, while detailed financing and implementation proposals were also developed for the remaining sections up to Peshawar in close coordination with the Chinese side. Once completed, ML-1 was expected to substantially enhance Pakistan Railways’ operational efficiency by increasing train speeds from 65-105 km/h to nearly 160 km/h, improving freight-handling capacity, reducing transit times, and strengthening north-south economic connectivity across the country. Significant headway was also achieved on the Realignment of Karakoram Highway (KKH-Phase II) Project under the Government-to-Government (G2G) framework. Both sides have operationalized a phased implementation strategy and reached broad consensus on an 85:15 financing ratio. In Gwadar, the operationalization and consolidation of strategic infrastructure projects continued to gain momentum. The East Bay Expressway, a 19-kilometre, six-lane corridor connecting Gwadar Port with the Makran Coastal Highway, continued to improve port accessibility, reduce cargo transit time, and enhance logistics efficiency for commercial and port-related traffic. Further progress has also been achieved on Phase-II initiatives aimed at connecting Gwadar Port with the New Gwadar International Airport, including discussions on grant financing modalities and finalization of the draft Framework Agreement to strengthen integrated sea-air connectivity among Gwadar Port, Gwadar Free Zones, and the airport. Gwadar Port and the Free Zones have made further progress toward operational maturity through improved infrastructure provision, enhanced utilities connectivity, investor-friendly fiscal incentives, and continued policy facilitation measures by the Pakistan Government. Increased focus has also been placed on attracting industrial relocation, export-oriented manufacturing, warehousing, fisheries processing, and logistics-related investments in Gwadar Free Zone. Parallel progress has also been achieved on multiple road infrastructure projects, including strategic expressways and motorways, through the mechanisms of the Joint Working Group (JWG) on Transport Infrastructure and the Joint Technical Working Group (JTWG), thereby reinforcing Pakistan’s long-term objective of developing an integrated multimodal transport and logistics network under CPEC. Mining cooperation has also emerged as a major new pillar of CPEC 2.0, thereby reflecting the shared commitment of both countries to unlock Pakistan’s vast untapped mineral potential through bilateral cooperation, technology transfer, industrial cooperation, and investment partnership. During the period under review, both sides agreed to undertake a joint feasibility study for the proposed Mining Corridor connecting Nokundi with Gwadar Port. The proposed initiative was expected to substantially reduce transportation costs, improve supply-chain efficiency, and facilitate large-scale movement of copper, gold, rare earth elements, chromite, and other strategic minerals. The corridor would also complement ongoing developments in Reko Diq and other mining regions, while also laying the foundation for transforming Balochistan into a major mining, processing, and export-oriented economic hub. The last year has also witnessed quite significant progress in industrial cooperation under CPEC, with continuous development of Special Economic Zones (SEZs) and expeditious provision of basic utilities, especially electricity. Phase-1 of Rashakai SEZ has been successfully operationalized, while