The Gen-Zs and the Cockroach Party (CJP)

Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye’s landmark defence agreement draws international attention; Shehbaz Sharif and Field Marshal Asim Munir play pivotal roles in historic strategic breakthrough The landmark Makkah Joint Defence Agreement between Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye has triggered intense international interest, with analysts viewing the accord as a potentially significant development in the evolving security architecture of the Middle East and wider Muslim world. Signed in Makkah by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammed bin Salman and Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, the agreement establishes a collective-defence principle under which an armed attack against any one of the three countries will be regarded as an attack against all three. The pact brings together three strategically important states with highly complementary capabilities: Saudi Arabia’s economic and energy weight, Türkiye’s powerful conventional military and expanding defence industry, and Pakistan’s extensive military experience and strategic deterrent. The combination has prompted international analysts to examine whether the Makkah agreement could become the foundation of a more autonomous, regionally driven security framework. Ishaq Dar: agreement is defensive, not directed against any country Pakistan’s Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Senator Ishaq Dar has sought to clarify the scope and purpose of the agreement amid growing international interest. Dar described the Makkah Accord as “purely defensive in nature” and “not targeted against any country”, stressing that its purpose is to strengthen collective security and promote peace and stability. He said the agreement does not replace or undermine existing bilateral or multilateral arrangements maintained by the three countries with each other, other states or international organisations. Under the accord, Dar explained, an external armed attack against any one of the three countries would be considered an attack against all, consistent with the inherent right of individual and collective self-defence under Article 51 of the UN Charter. Dar also said the framework remains open to other countries that share its principles and are prepared to resolve differences through mutual respect, cooperation and peaceful means. His clarification is strategically important because it positions the Makkah framework as a mechanism of deterrence rather than confrontation, without identifying Iran, Israel or any other state as a permanent adversary. Hakan Fidan compares mutual-defence provision with NATO Article 5 The most significant international description of the agreement’s collective-defence provision has come from Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan. Fidan said the provision is technically comparable to NATO’s Article 5, under which an attack against one member is treated as an attack against all. The comparison does not mean that the Makkah framework has NATO’s integrated command structure or institutional architecture. The practical response to any attack would be determined according to the circumstances. Fidan said a ministerial committee would be established and a general secretariat based in Saudi Arabia would oversee the framework, with further operational details to be developed. He also indicated that Türkiye wants the framework to expand, identifying Egypt as a potential future member. The prospect of expansion is potentially significant because it could transform a trilateral arrangement into a wider regional security mechanism. OIC welcomes agreement as an ‘important strategic step’ The Organisation of Islamic Cooperation has welcomed the agreement, with Secretary General Hissein Brahim Taha expressing strong support and describing the pact as an “important strategic step” reflecting the commitment of Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye to strengthening cooperation. The OIC response gives the agreement significance beyond the three signatories and places it within the wider context of cooperation among Muslim-majority countries. The development comes at a time when several regional states are reassessing existing security arrangements and seeking greater strategic autonomy. Saudi Arabia: strengthening security without abandoning existing partnerships Riyadh has emphasised that the new defence framework does not replace its existing security arrangements. Saudi Deputy Minister for Public Diplomacy Rayed Krimly said the agreement does not supersede or replace existing bilateral or multilateral agreements involving the three countries. The position reflects Saudi Arabia’s broader foreign-policy strategy of strategic diversification. The Kingdom continues to maintain a major relationship with the United States while simultaneously deepening strategic, economic and defence ties with Türkiye, Pakistan, China and other powers. The Makkah pact therefore appears less a replacement for existing alliances than an additional layer of regional deterrence. Chatham House: Türkiye pursuing strategic ‘hedging’ The Makkah agreement has also given renewed significance to earlier analysis by Chatham House. Tim Chattell of the International Security Programme at Chatham House examined the prospect of a Turkish strategic arrangement with Saudi Arabia and Pakistan before the trilateral agreement was signed. He argued that such cooperation formed part of Ankara’s wider strategy of “hedging” — developing alternative strategic partnerships while retaining its NATO commitments. Chattell also identified potential synergy between the three countries, particularly because Türkiye and Pakistan possess complementary defence capabilities while Saudi Arabia has significant financial resources that could support defence cooperation and industrial development. What had previously been examined as an emerging strategic alignment has now become a formal defence commitment. Atlantic Council: a ‘double deterrence tool’ The Atlantic Council has also examined the evolving Saudi-Pakistan security relationship. Analyst Eleonora Ardemagni described the Saudi-Pakistan defence pact as a “double deterrence tool”, arguing that the relationship reflected both immediate security concerns and Saudi Arabia’s longer-term drive towards greater defence autonomy. Her analysis highlighted military training, capacity building, defence-industry cooperation, technology transfer and potential co-production as important elements of the emerging partnership. The inclusion of Türkiye adds another major military and defence-industrial dimension to that relationship. A strategic triangle of complementary power The significance of the Makkah pact lies partly in the capabilities each country brings to the partnership. Saudi Arabia contributes enormous economic and energy influence, strategic geography and financial resources. Türkiye contributes a major conventional military, NATO experience and an increasingly sophisticated indigenous defence industry. Pakistan contributes one of the region’s largest and most experienced armed forces, longstanding military cooperation with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye, and a nuclear deterrent. The three-way combination therefore creates a strategic partnership in which each member contributes capabilities that complement

By : Amir Ismaiel ( London based pakistani student )  A new youth-led protest movement in India, known as the Cockroach Janata Party has become the focus of global attention. In recent days students associated with the movement attempted to march towards Parliament, but police used baton charges and force to stop them. The movement’s founder, Abhijeet Dabke, is currently studying in the United States while several of its other leaders are enrolled at leading universities in India and the United Kingdom. The movement is primarily driven by young students. The movement began after the Chief Justice of India reportedly referred to young people as “cockroaches.” Students adopted the term as a symbol of resistance and established the Cockroach Janata Party. According to its leaders, the recent examination paper leak scandal has exposed deep weaknesses and corruption within India’s education system. They argue that corruption in examinations and the erosion of merit are allowing unqualified individuals to enter key institutions, ultimately damaging the country’s future. Protesters are therefore demanding the resignation of the Education Minister, whom they hold responsible for the crisis. Thousands of students continue to demonstrate across different cities while pressing for a wider set of demands. Opposition leader Rahul Gandhi has expressed solidarity with the protesting students. Meanwhile, allegations of police mistreatment of both protesters and opposition leaders have sparked a nationwide debate. Several Indian actors, artists, and public figures have also condemned the use of force against students, adding to the growing political and public pressure on Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government. India often presents itself as the world’s largest democracy and a champion of democratic values. While its large youth population is one of its greatest strengths, it can also become a significant challenge. Because of its distinctive identity and objectives, this movement has attracted the attention of young people not only across India but throughout Asia and beyond. Its growing popularity on social media has encouraged increasing numbers of young Indians to join. If the protests spread further and gain broader public support, they could become a serious political challenge for the government. In response to the latest developments, Prime Minister Narendra Modi released a late-night video message appealing to young people for patience. He stated that investigations into the paper leak scandal were already underway and assured the public that those responsible would be held accountable. However, student leaders insisted that their sit-in would continue until the Education Minister resigned. Some observers believe that the Prime Minister’s body language during the address reflected political pressure and unease. A government that has previously responded firmly to numerous protests now appears to be facing unprecedented pressure from a youth-led movement. Over the past few decades, Asian politics has undergone significant change, with young people emerging as an increasingly influential political force. Even before the current protests in India, youth movements in Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and Nepal had already played decisive roles in shaping political developments. In March 2022, Sri Lanka was engulfed by mass protests triggered by a severe economic crisis. Young people stood at the forefront of the demonstrations and led protests that continued for weeks. The government imposed a state of emergency, enforced curfews, and attempted to restrict access to social media, but these measures failed to weaken the protesters’ determination. Eventually, demonstrators surrounded the Presidential Palace, forcing the President to resign. Similarly, Bangladesh witnessed a student-led protest movement that fundamentally reshaped the country’s political landscape. As demonstrations intensified, then Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina left office and departed the country. Security forces attempted to suppress the protests, resulting in the deaths of numerous young demonstrators. Despite this, the movement expanded across the country. Student activism ultimately dominated national politics, the government collapsed, and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Dr. Muhammad Yunusassumed leadership of the interim administration. The intensity of public anger was evident in the actions of some protesters, who set fire to a statue of Bangladesh’s founding leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, burned his residence, and removed his image from banknotes. Many young protesters viewed these acts as a response to what they considered years of political repression and believed that every sacrifice was necessary to achieve their objectives. Nepal also witnessed strong youth mobilization against corruption, weak governance, and restrictions on social media. As a generation raised in the digital era, young activists relied heavily on social media to organize, coordinate, and build public support. Issues were first highlighted online, public consensus was gradually developed, and protest calls were then issued. The same strategy transformed local demonstrations into a nationwide movement. The protests became so significant that the country’s political leadership resigned, with Prime Minister K. P. Sharma Oli and his cabinet stepping down. The new interim administration subsequently accepted several of the protesters’ demands. Young people have likewise organized movements in countries such as Indonesia and the Philippines to demand political, social, and economic reforms. Together, these examples demonstrate that the youth of Asia are no longer passive observers but have become powerful and influential agents of political change. Pakistani media is currently giving extensive coverage to the student protests in India. Reports highlight the Indian government’s use of force against students and the growing political pressure facing the Modi administration. This naturally raises an important question: if young people in Pakistan were to launch a similar peaceful movement for their rights, would our own government respond with the same level of restraint? Would protesters avoid police violence, criminal charges, house raids, blocked identity cards, or accusations of disloyalty? The reality is that as a society, we have yet to build a strong culture of tolerance for dissent. Too often, we are more accustomed to silencing critical voices than listening to them. Pakistani youth face not only unemployment and economic uncertainty but also an environment shaped by fear. Even those who have jobs frequently hesitate to raise legitimate concerns, fearing that doing so could cost them their employment, personal freedom, or future opportunities. For this reason, before commenting on developments elsewhere,

I have a confession to make before I make an argument: I am not a neutral observer of Uzbekistan, and I have never pretended to be. My grandmother was born in Bukhara, and something of that inheritance has stayed with me my whole life, quietly, the way a language half-learned in childhood never fully leaves you. When I finally visited Uzbekistan as an adult, I did not feel like a foreign visitor taking in unfamiliar streets. I felt something closer to what my grandmother must have felt looking at me — an unearned, uncomplicated warmth that asked nothing in return. I have come to understand that feeling as the quiet, private secret of belonging to a place through blood rather than through a passport. Tashkent is, in every way that matters to me, my second home. It was in that spirit, long before he held the office he holds today, that I once had the chance to meet and listen to Shavkat Mirziyoyev. He was not yet President of Uzbekistan when I encountered him, and I remember being struck less by any title he carried than by the scale of what he was already thinking about out loud: an economic vision that did not stop at Uzbekistan’s borders, a water and energy strategy built for the whole of Central Asia, and a sense — unusual in a region that had spent decades looking inward — that Uzbekistan’s future was inseparable from the future of its neighbors, and ultimately from the future of Asia itself. I did not know, at the time, that I was listening to a future head of state. I knew only that I was listening to someone thinking at a scale most officials never attempt. That background should not surprise anyone who looks closely at his biography. Mirziyoyev is, by training, an irrigation engineer. He graduated in 1981 from the Tashkent Institute of Irrigation and Melioration with a degree in mechanical engineering, and went on to earn a doctorate in technical sciences — a foundation in water management and applied engineering, not in the abstractions of political theory. I find something quietly reassuring in that. A leader who has spent his formative years thinking about the physical realities of water — how it moves, where it is wasted, how a system either functions or fails on the ground — tends to bring a different discipline to the running of a country than one who has only ever studied power itself. When he took the presidential oath on 14 December 2016, he inherited a country that had spent decades in careful, deliberate isolation under his predecessor, Islam Karimov. What he has built since is, by any honest measure, one of the most consequential transformations Central Asia has seen in a generation. Mirziyoyev dismantled that isolation almost immediately. Borders that had been tense and heavily restricted with Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan were resolved through negotiation rather than standoff. Trade and cross-border travel, once treated with suspicion, were opened. And rather than settling for improved bilateral relations, he proposed something more ambitious still: formalizing the informal annual summits among Central Asian leaders into a standing “Community of Central Asia,” with a rotating presidency and a permanent secretariat, built around shared trade, water management, transport infrastructure, and coordinated engagement with Afghanistan. It is the kind of regional architecture Central Asia lacked for the entire post-Soviet period, and it is very hard to picture it emerging under any of his predecessors. The economic numbers now validate what, in that early conversation, still sounded like ambition rather than achievement. Uzbekistan implemented $43.1 billion in foreign investment in its most recent reporting period, of which $38.2 billion arrived as foreign direct investment — a 24 % surge over the prior year, and enough to make Uzbekistan the largest recipient of accumulated FDI stock in Central Asia, ahead of Kazakhstan. FDI absorption climbed from $19.5 billion in 2023 to $31.9 billion in 2024 before reaching this year’s historic peak, with a single record quarter bringing in $1.7 billion in net balance-of-payments inflows. China remains the leading investor at $17.1 billion, followed by Russia at $4.8 billion, with Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Germany, the UAE, and the United Kingdom all expanding their footprints. The capital is not concentrated in one sector either: energy and renewables lead at $7.1 billion, including ACWA Power’s $2.4 billion wind installation in Karakalpakstan, alongside major investment in agriculture, construction, and mining. The country’s foreign reserves stood at roughly $63.75 billion as of June 2026, after peaking above $77 billion earlier in the year, while real GDP grew 7.7 % in 2025 and is projected to hold near 6.8 % through 2026. None of this happened by accident. Uzbekistan built nearly a thousand Free Economic Zones offering genuine tax relief and simplified customs. It collapsed business registration into a single electronic government portal, cutting the cost of starting a company to roughly $27. It fully liberalized its currency and removed the foreign exchange barriers that once made profit repatriation a genuine deterrent to investors. This is not a country hoping investors will come. It is a country that examined, line by line, every friction that had historically kept them away, and removed it. But the achievement I find most remarkable is geographic, because geography is the one obstacle policy alone usually cannot solve. Uzbekistan is one of only two doubly landlocked countries on Earth — a nation whose neighbors are themselves landlocked, placing it about as far from open water as any country can be. For most of its history, that was treated as a permanent constraint. Mirziyoyev has instead treated it as an engineering problem to be solved, which is precisely how an irrigation engineer would see it. The Trans-Afghan Railway, first proposed by Uzbekistan in 2018 and finally formalized in a trilateral framework agreement signed with Afghanistan and Pakistan in July 2025, will run roughly 650 kilometres from Termez on the Uzbek border through Mazar-i-Sharif, Kabul, and Logar, crossing into Pakistan

Pakistan does not need an external adversary to explain its economic decline. It has one at home, operating out of two regulatory buildings in Islamabad: the National Electric Power Regulatory Authority and the Oil and Gas Regulatory Authority, backstopped by a Ministry of Power and a Ministry of Petroleum that have spent two decades signing contracts, indexing tariffs, and deferring hard decisions in ways that now function less like national stewardship and more like a slow, self-administered dismantling of the country’s own industrial base. There is an old Urdu instinct for this kind of failure — “apne pairon par khud kulhari maarna,” to swing the axe onto your own foot — and it captures the pattern better than any conspiracy theory could. Nobody needs to have plotted Pakistan’s energy collapse. Two regulators simply kept striking the same foot, quarter after quarter, determination after determination, until there was nothing left to stand on. Start with NEPRA, and start with the number that should embarrass every member of its board. On August 10, 2026, the Authority approved a 30-year, 9.4-US-cent tariff for the 102 MW Gulpur hydropower project — a project whose tariff history is itself a case study in regulatory drift, having been revised in 2015, modified again in 2021 for exchange-rate relief, and delayed by force majeure claims for the better part of a decade before finally being settled this month, over the recorded dissent of one of NEPRA’s own members. Three weeks earlier, the same regulator had approved a tariff of just 3.0899 US cents for a 269 MW hybrid wind-and-solar project at Dhabeji.  A regulator capable of holding both of those numbers in its hands in the same month and treating them as equally acceptable outcomes is not pricing risk. It has simply stopped asking what things should cost. Then, in February 2026, NEPRA turned the same instinct on ordinary citizens. Its Prosumer Regulations 2026 dismantled the one-to-one net metering framework that had made rooftop solar a rational household investment, replacing it with net billing: excess power sold back to the grid at the National Average Energy Purchase Price of roughly Rs 10–13 per unit, while the same household buys grid electricity back minutes later at full retail rates. A citizen who financed their own panels, took on their own installation risk, and asked nothing from the state now effectively subsidizes the grid every time the sun shines. Compare that to Gulpur’s sponsors, who face none of that asymmetry and are guaranteed indexed returns for three decades. The Ministry of Power approved this framework and let it stand, even after the Prime Minister was reported to have ordered a NEPRA appeal to protect existing solar users — an appeal that, months later, has changed remarkably little for new applicants. OGRA, the sister regulator for oil and gas, has been just as busy inflicting damage of its own kind, and its failures deserve equal billing, because it is the gas sector, not electricity, that has produced Pakistan’s most persistent circular debt crisis. By July 2026, Pakistan’s gas circular debt had reached roughly Rs 3.44 trillion, and the country had missed an IMF deadline for a gas tariff notification that the Fund treats as a structural benchmark for the entire bailout program. OGRA’s own determinations tell the story: SNGPL and SSGC continue to report system losses well above the “unaccounted-for-gas” allowances built into their tariffs — 8.8 % actual against a roughly 7 % allowance for SNGPL, and a startling 13.6 % actual against an 8.2 % allowance for SSGC — with the gap simply passed through to consumers as cost rather than treated as the operational failure it is. In July 2026, when OGRA’s own recalculated prescribed prices should have lowered consumer gas bills, the federal government instead chose to keep tariffs unchanged and let SNGPL bank a projected Rs 44 billion surplus and SSGC a smaller one, rather than pass relief to the households and factories paying the bill. This is not regulation. It is bookkeeping in service of institutional convenience, dressed up as prudence. The consequence of all this — NEPRA’s mispriced generation contracts, its punitive treatment of rooftop solar, OGRA’s tolerance of chronic system losses, and both ministries’ shared unwillingness to force a reckoning — is a business environment where foreign direct investors cannot model their own electricity or gas costs five years out, let alone thirty. Industrial production stalls not because Pakistani manufacturers lack skill or ambition, but because no factory can plan around a power bill and a gas bill set by regulators who reward legacy contracts over least-cost technology and who treat circular debt as something to defer rather than solve. Pakistan’s Interior Minister recently said publicly that “the system has collapsed” — a remark aimed at governance and security, but one that describes the energy sector with uncomfortable precision, and one the security establishment has been strangely slow to connect to its own economic consequences. A country cannot out-negotiate a debt crisis it keeps manufacturing at the regulator’s desk every single quarter. None of this requires believing anyone set out to sabotage the country. It requires recognizing that an institution can do a slow version of the same damage through nothing more than inertia, misaligned incentives, and a persistent unwillingness to price energy the way the rest of the world now prices it — cheaply, competitively, and honestly. NEPRA and OGRA do not need another IMF-mandated hearing or another quarterly adjustment. They need leadership willing to admit that thirty years of axe-swings at the country’s own foot is enough, and that the next tariff determination should finally start asking what things should cost, not merely what precedent allows. So who actually chooses the people who run NEPRA and OGRA? This is the part of the story that gets almost no scrutiny, and it should. Both chairmen are selected by the federal cabinet from shortlists assembled by selection committees chaired by a serving federal minister — for NEPRA, historically the Minister for

Distrust in Azad Jammu and Kashmir is linked to a small but organized group that allegedly used social media manipulation, propaganda, and genuine public grievances to create an impression of widespread support disconnected from reality, deepening divisions within society and straining relations between the state and its citizens. The Rawalakot protests are said to have involved only a small fraction of AJK’s population of about four million, with fewer than 40,000 participants at peak attendance and likely around 10,000–15,000 overall, while more than five times that number reportedly traveled from Rawalakot to Rawalpindi on June 6 and 7. Many families moved weddings to Rawalpindi and Islamabad, sick people and schoolchildren left the town, and hundreds of families delayed school and college admissions until August because of the disruption. Most residents remained away from the protests to protect their families, forming a “silent majority,” while around 90 percent of people in other districts are said not to support the protesters’ agenda. Large political rallies in Muzaffarabad, Kotli, Dhirkot, and Bhimbar are taken as evidence of stronger support for the constitutional political process than for the Rawalakot sit-in. Around 10,000–15,000 protesters are held responsible for disrupting daily life, damaging the economy, creating fear and uncertainty, and causing disorder over an issue that could have been resolved through legislation, dialogue, and democratic institutions rather than confrontation and violence. Aided by a few journalists acting as propagandists, the movement is accused of using manipulated images, fake news, and emotional appeals to create the impression that the whole of Azad Kashmir supports it, even though the participants are said to constitute less than 10 percent of Rawalakot’s own population.   The government has addressed many demands by reducing electricity and flour prices, abolishing refugee ministries, reducing the number of ministers, halving the property transfer tax, completing the Rathwa Hariyam Bridge, withdrawing FIRs and legal cases, compensating the families of those killed and 56 injured people, providing a government job to Azhar’s brother, approving a Rs. 5.5 billion PC-1 for MRI facilities, and approving a Rs. 9 billion PC-1 to improve the power transmission system.   The application to make Azad Kashmir Bank a scheduled bank has been submitted to the State Bank of Pakistan, a move that will strengthen the financial sector and provide greater access to banking services for the people. The health card has been restored, a vital social safety net program that provides access to medical care for those who cannot afford it, and its restoration was a major victory for the people. Two new boards of education have been established, decentralizing the education system and allowing for more focused and effective administration of schools. The Mansehra, Muzaffarabad and Mangla expressways are included in the CPEC project, a game-changing development that will bring massive investment, improve connectivity, and create economic opportunities for the region. The establishment of Mirpur Airport was announced by the Prime Minister of Pakistan on live television, a major milestone that will open up the region to the world and facilitate trade and tourism, and work on the feasibility has started, with the project now moving from the planning stage to reality. The quota system has ended, a long-standing demand that was seen as discriminatory and unjust, and its abolition was a major step towards equality and fairness. Additional departments were abolished and merged with existing departments, a move that reduced bureaucracy and made the government more efficient. The e-tendering of electricity meters was approved, a reform that will ensure transparency and fairness in the procurement process. The demand for 30 KVA for schools and colleges was approved, and the notification has been issued, ensuring that educational institutions will have access to a reliable power supply. Now, among the remaining demands, there is a demand for 4 tunnels and bridges, infrastructure projects that are undeniably needed and would greatly benefit the people, but in reality one single tunnel is estimated to be completed in 10 billion rupees, and the total development budget of Azad Kashmir is less than 40 billion rupees, meaning that these projects cannot be built overnight. The government or no one has any magical capabilities, and no airport, bridges, and tunnels can be built overnight, as they require years of planning, feasibility studies, environmental assessments, and massive financial outlays that must be spread over many years.   In fact, after approving so many demands, after demonstrating such a clear willingness to address the grievances of the people, to insist on only one remaining demand and to lay siege to the entire region and paralyze the lives of millions, one must ask a crucial question: is it the stubborn government or the action committee that is being unreasonable?   The so-called peaceful revolutionary sit-in of the banned Joint Action Committee has been completely exposed for what it really is, and the mask of peaceful protest has slipped to reveal the ugly face of violent insurgency. Their so-called rational teams, which were presented as peaceful negotiators and organizers, are in fact positioned on rooftops with state-of-the-art SMG guns and ultra-expensive military binoculars, and their purpose is not to maintain order but to monitor the security forces on the ground, tracking their movements and planning for a confrontation. This is not a political sit-in, which is a legitimate form of protest in a democracy, but a planned military confrontation against the security forces of the state, a deliberate strategy to provoke a reaction and to create martyrs. Recently a banned Action Committee’s leader made a revealing statement, admitting to the supply of modern US-made M4 rifles to troublemakers, a serious accusation that confirms the armed nature of the group and its intent to use violence against the state. The banned JAAC is using fake and AI generated videos and posts to get the support of the people, manufacturing evidence and creating a false reality to manipulate public opinion, and these fabricated materials are spread widely on social media to create a sense of crisis and to incite hatred.

One question stayed with me long after I attended a workshop under the project titled ‘Digital Trust and Free Expression in the Era of AI’, organized by the Department of Media and Development Communication, University of the Punjab with the support of the U.S. Mission to Pakistan in partnership with the Pakistan-U.S. Alumni Network, was, ‘How will we preserve digital trust and free expression in the age of AI’? As AI becomes an integral part of digital journalism, the question is no longer whether it should be used, and more importantly who should be held responsible when things go wrong. Artificial Intelligence has definitely proven to be a powerful tool for journalists. It can summarize long reports, translate content into multiple languages, follow breaking news, analyze vast quantities of data and even write complete news reports in seconds. All of these capabilities have revolutionized newsroom processes and enabled journalists to process information more efficiently than ever before. But efficiency is not the only measure of ethical journalism. Journalism isn’t about being fast, it’s about informing the public accurately, fairly and responsibly. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from the workshop was that AI does not understand information; it predicts the most likely response based on patterns in the data it has learned from. This distinction is important because when reliable information is unavailable at the time, AI generates responses that seem convincing but inaccurate, but are wrong, which is often referred to as AI hallucination. What’s most concerning is that the AI generated mistakes can appear convincing enough for people to accept them as true. This poses an ethical question: Who should be held responsible if AI-generated news contains misleading information? The burden can’t be placed entirely on the algorithm. AI has no moral judgement or legal accountability. It cannot distinguish between public interest and public harm and is not aware of the social consequences of publishing inaccurate information. This means that the responsibility rests with those who decide to employ these technologies: journalists, editors, newsroom leaders, and media organizations. While AI can help create content, it cannot replace responsibility. This is where ethics become more important than technological advancements. Checking information should not take a back seat to the ‘Publish first’ mentality. With all of the digital platforms that exist today, misinformation can spread from continent to continent within minutes and corrections often fail to reach the same audience. Each unverified headline altered photo or AI-generated mistake can damage the public’s trust, both in a specific news organization and in journalism.   The discussions also reinforced the importance of Media and Information Literacy (MIL). Verification is not only the responsibility of journalists, but also something that is necessary for every digital citizen. Learning how to use reverse image search, source verification techniques, and critical evaluation of online information is no longer an option, it’s essential for protecting ourselves from deception. As AI-generated content becomes increasingly sophisticated, it is essential to verify information before accepting it as true. AI will continue to evolve and so will digital journalism. The challenge is not innovation itself but using it responsibly. Trust is not something algorithms can build, it is something that can be gained only through transparency, accountability and a steadfast dedication to truth. While adopting new technologies to do journalism, let’s not forget that the tools should enhance journalism’s values, not shape journalism. AI may help write the news, but only humans can uphold the ethics behind it. The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the U.S. Mission to Pakistan or USEFP.