Vietnam as an Economic Lesson for Pakistan

In the digital era, crime has drastically transformed. These days, planned disinformation operations, hate speech, deepfakes and misinformation spread more quickly than traditional crimes, eroding public confidence, escalating tensions within communities and, in severe situations, inciting actual bloodshed. Police must change to protect the information environment as well, since Pakistan’s digital footprint keeps growing. Acknowledging the evolving security environment, Regional Police Officer (RPO) Sohail Akhtar Sukhera has established a Cyber Patrolling Cell in District Jhang as a pioneer model for the Faisalabad Region. By keeping an eye on dangerous online content, spotting emerging digital risks, recording evidence and organising prompt responses through legal processes, the initiative represents a shift from reactive policing to intelligence-led prevention. The framework emphasises adherence to existing legal safeguards while providing clearly defined monitoring categories, reporting channels and escalation procedures. The significance of this initiative extends beyond the boundaries of the Faisalabad Region. It reflects a reality increasingly recognised by law enforcement agencies worldwide: the internet has become an operational domain of public safety. Within hours, a fake video, manipulated image or coordinated disinformation campaign can generate fear, inflame sectarian tensions, undermine institutional legitimacy or provoke violence. Preventing harm in both physical and digital environments has therefore become an essential responsibility of modern policing. Cyber patrolling has already been integrated into contemporary law enforcement in several countries. The European Union’s Digital Services Act requires major digital platforms to mitigate systemic risks arising from coordinated misinformation and illegal content, while Europol strengthens cross-border cyber intelligence. Singapore, through the Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act (POFMA), combines legal intervention with public digital literacy campaigns to counter online deception. The United Arab Emirates employs AI-driven cybercrime teams and real-time threat intelligence to combat online extremism and hate speech. In South Asia, Kerala Police’s Cyberdome demonstrates how collaboration among law enforcement agencies, cyber security professionals and academic institutions can strengthen cyber threat intelligence, digital forensics, online fraud investigations and disinformation monitoring. By identifying rumours, verifying information and reducing public panic during emergencies, Cyberdome has emerged as one of the region’s leading cyber policing models. Against this international backdrop, the Cyber Patrolling Cell established by RPO Sohail Akhtar Sukhera represents an important step towards institutionalising digital policing in Pakistan. While still evolving, it demonstrates an understanding that policing must anticipate threats before they materialise rather than merely responding after damage has occurred. However, technology alone cannot counter disinformation. International experience demonstrates that successful cyber patrolling depends upon robust institutions, specialised expertise and public trust. Pakistan should therefore consider several complementary reforms. First, dedicated Digital Threat Intelligence Units should be established within police organisations, integrating cyber investigators, OSINT analysts, digital forensic experts and behavioural analysts capable of identifying coordinated online influence operations. Second, law enforcement agencies should invest in artificial intelligence-assisted monitoring systems capable of detecting bot networks, coordinated disinformation campaigns, multilingual hate speech and AI-generated deepfake content while ensuring meaningful human oversight over enforcement decisions. Third, closer institutional collaboration is essential. Provincial police, the Federal Investigation Agency (FIA), the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority (PTA), the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency, universities, technology companies and civil society organisations should operate through an integrated digital information-sharing mechanism. Cyber threats rarely respect institutional or provincial boundaries. Fourth, specialised partnerships with universities and research institutions should support continuous officer training in cyber intelligence, digital forensics, artificial intelligence and data analytics. Institutions such as NUST, FAST, Information Technology University Lahore and other research centres possess expertise that can strengthen law enforcement capacity. Fifth, transparent oversight mechanisms are indispensable. Periodic public reporting, independent legal oversight and clearly defined operational protocols can ensure that cyber patrolling remains lawful, proportionate and fully consistent with constitutional guarantees relating to freedom of expression and privacy. Effective cyber policing should enhance democratic resilience rather than weaken it. Finally, equal attention should be given to digital literacy. Citizens who can verify information, recognise manipulated content, identify deepfakes and report online abuse become active participants in protecting the information ecosystem. Public resilience remains the strongest defence against organised deception. The strategic importance of the information domain has surpassed that of physical infrastructure. Just as police patrol streets to deter conventional crime, responsible cyber patrolling has become essential to protecting democratic institutions, social cohesion and national security. Digital policing has become a fundamental responsibility of contemporary law enforcement, and Pakistan can no longer afford to treat it as an optional function. The Cyber Patrolling Cell established under the leadership of RPO Faisalabad Sohail Akhtar Sukhera should be viewed not merely as a regional initiative but as a policy experiment capable of informing Pakistan’s broader digital policing strategy. Strengthened through advanced technology, specialised training, transparent oversight and interagency cooperation, it offers a practical road map for developing a nationally integrated cyber patrolling framework that safeguards both public security and democratic resilience in the digital age.

In the space of a single year, Pakistan has moved from the periphery of Middle Eastern diplomacy to its center. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and army chief Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir have positioned the country as both a mediator between Washington and Tehran and, more recently, a formal treaty partner of Saudi Arabia and Turkey. The result  the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement, signed on August 7 in Islam’s holiest city  marks one of the most consequential shifts in South Asian foreign policy in decades. Yet it also raises hard questions about who is really steering Pakistan’s course, and at what long-term cost.   A war that reshaped the region   The backdrop is a war between the United States and Iran that erupted on February 28, drawing in Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states, Iraqi militias and Yemen’s Houthi movement, and disrupting roughly a fifth of the world’s seaborne energy supplies through the Strait of Hormuz. Missile and drone exchanges reached Saudi cities, unsettling a region that had spent years trying to de-escalate after the 2015 nuclear deal’s collapse.   Pakistan, one of the few states with working channels to both Washington and Tehran, stepped into the gap. Sharif’s government hosted preliminary contacts that produced the so-called Islamabad Memorandum, under which Iran signalled it would not pursue nuclear weapons  a pledge it had already made under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and the 2015 accord  in exchange for a mechanism allowing it to dilute stockpiles of highly enriched uranium. Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian later thanked Islamabad for its “constructive engagement” in securing a ceasefire and agreed to send negotiators to further talks in the Pakistani capital. Analysts at the Washington-based Stimson Center have noted that Munir personally staked considerable political capital on the diplomacy, given how easily it could have collapsed.       The Makkah pact   That mediating role fed directly into last week’s agreement. Saudi Arabia, repeatedly struck during the war by Iranian missiles and by Tehran-aligned forces in Yemen and Iraq, had already signed a bilateral defence pact with Pakistan in September 2025  struck, notably, just over a week after an Israeli strike on Hamas negotiators in Doha rattled Gulf capitals’ confidence in American security guarantees. The Makkah agreement extends that arrangement into a trilateral pact with Turkey, declaring that an armed attack on any one of the three signatories will be treated as an attack on all.   Pakistani officials describe the pact as purely defensive. Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar said this week it was “not directed against any country” and remained open to other regional states. President Asif Ali Zardari called it a reflection of “shared resolve for peace and security,” while Sharif credited Munir’s “tireless efforts” in securing an arrangement he said had been years in the making. For Riyadh and Ankara, the pact offers a hedge against dependence on any single outside power at a moment when American commitments to the region look less certain than they once did. For Pakistan, it offers closer ties with two wealthy allies, a symbolic role as guardian of Islam’s holiest sites, and outsized influence for a country whose economy remains fragile.   Praise, and pointed scepticism   The agreement has been celebrated in much of Pakistan’s domestic media as evidence that the country’s leadership  civilian and military alike  is finally translating decades of geopolitical positioning into tangible strategic weight. Supporters point to a similar dynamic in May, when a brief but intense military confrontation with India ended within days, after which the government promoted Munir to the rare, largely ceremonial rank of Field Marshal, only the second officer in Pakistan’s history to hold it.   But that same promotion has drawn sharp criticism from analysts who see it as part of a broader consolidation of power by the military at the expense of elected institutions. Munir, appointed army chief in November 2022, has presided over a period in which  according to critics including jailed former prime minister Imran Khan’s supporters  courts, the media and Sharif’s own coalition have operated increasingly under military direction, a system some commentators have dubbed a “hybrid regime.” The Middle East Institute has described Munir’s elevation as “a thunderous declaration of the military’s unassailable supremacy,” while other analysts note that his growing role in foreign and economic policy  well beyond the traditional remit of an army chief  blurs the line between civilian governance and military command in a country with a long history of that line collapsing altogether.   What comes next   None of this diminishes the immediate diplomatic achievement: a ceasefire process that, however fragile, has held; a new pact that binds three influential Muslim-majority states more closely together; and a Pakistan that finds itself, for now, indispensable to great-power diplomacy in a region convulsed by war. Whether that translates into durable stability  for the Gulf, for the broader Middle East, or for Pakistan’s own democratic institutions  remains an open question. The coming months, as the Islamabad talks resume and the Makkah pact’s practical implications become clearer, will test whether this new era represents a genuine diplomatic breakthrough or a further tightening of military control dressed in the language of strategic necessity.

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

Health is the foundation upon which every nation builds its future. More specifically in Pakistan which is underdeveloped. No country can claim sustainable progress while its citizens continue to suffer from preventable diseases, unsafe medical practices, and a healthcare system weakened by negligence and poor governance. Unfortunately, Pakistan finds itself confronting these very challenges, where public awareness remains limited, people prefer malpractice upon the real HCPs, healthcare standards are inconsistently enforced, and accountability is often absent, (absence of accountability is the major issue in my opinion).   The recent reports of children allegedly contracting HIV following treatment at a healthcare facility in Karachi have deeply disturbed the nation. Whole Karachi is feeling a fear to go to any hospital, especially in public sector. Regardless of the outcome of ongoing investigations, the incident has exposed an uncomfortable reality, patient safety cannot be left to chance. A single lapse in infection control, sterilization, blood screening, or injection practices can permanently alter the lives of innocent patients and destroy public confidence in the healthcare system.   Healthcare is not merely about prescribing medicines or performing procedures. It is a responsibility that demands competence, discipline, ethical conduct, and strict adherence to internationally accepted standards. Every hospital, whether public or private, must operate under robust quality assurance systems. Sterilization protocols, infection prevention measures, waste disposal, blood safety, medication management, and continuous staff training are not optional, they are the minimum requirements for safe patient care. Equally concerning is the widespread public attitude toward health. Many people ignore symptoms until illnesses become severe. Self-medication, unqualified practitioners, unnecessary injections, and delayed medical consultation continue to place countless lives at risk. Public health awareness must become a national priority. Prevention is always less costly and more effective than treatment.   However, responsibility does not rest with the public alone. Healthcare institutions must also examine their own shortcomings. In many facilities across Sindh and other parts of Pakistan, shortages of trained professionals, inadequate supervision, poor infection control practices, and weak administrative oversight compromise patient safety. Quality healthcare cannot be delivered where merit is overlooked, competent professionals are undervalued, and management positions are assigned without the necessary expertise and accountability.   Healthcare administration should be treated as a specialized profession. Hospitals are complex organizations that require qualified leaders capable of managing clinical governance, quality improvement, patient safety, risk management, and human resources. Administrative decisions directly affect patient outcomes. Therefore, appointments to key management positions must be based on competence, experience, and professional qualifications rather than favoritism or administrative convenience. Another neglected area is the implementation of quality management systems. Every healthcare facility should maintain active infection control committees, medication safety programs, pharmacovigilance systems, incident reporting mechanisms, and regular internal audits. Compliance with national standards should not be limited to inspection days but should become part of everyday practice.   The role of pharmacists, nurses, laboratory professionals, infection control specialists, and other allied health professionals must also be strengthened. Modern healthcare depends upon multidisciplinary collaboration. Patient safety improves when every healthcare professional performs within clearly defined responsibilities and works together under an effective governance framework. Regulatory authorities also bear a significant responsibility. Licensing alone is insufficient. Regular inspections, transparent investigations, prompt corrective actions, and meaningful penalties for serious negligence are essential to restore public confidence. Accountability should never be selective. Whether the institution is public or private, patient safety must remain the highest priority.   Furthermore, Pakistan must invest substantially in continuous professional education. Medical knowledge evolves rapidly, and healthcare workers require regular training in infection prevention, patient safety, antimicrobial stewardship, emergency preparedness, and quality improvement. Competence is not achieved through qualification alone; it must be maintained throughout one’s professional career. The tragedy involving innocent children should not become another forgotten headline. It must serve as a turning point for meaningful healthcare reform. Every adverse event should encourage learning, strengthen systems, and prevent future harm rather than becoming another statistic buried in official reports.   A nation’s healthcare system reflects its collective values. If we tolerate negligence, ignore standards, and compromise merit, we inevitably place every patient at risk. But if we prioritize competence, accountability, transparency, and patient safety, Pakistan can build a healthcare system worthy of public trust.   The health of our people is not merely a medical issue; it is a national responsibility. Every citizen deserves safe treatment, every child deserves protection from preventable harm, and every healthcare institution must be held to the highest standards of professional excellence. The time for complacency has passed. The time for reform is now.

Educational debates in Pakistan usually begin with schools and end with universities. Somewhere in between lies a vast public college network that has quietly undergone a transformation without receiving the reforms necessary to sustain it. For decades, colleges were viewed merely as institutions imparting Intermediate education. That perception is now obsolete. Government colleges across Pakistan award four-year BS degrees, supervise undergraduate research, implement semester systems, and produce graduates completing sixteen years of education. They have become institutions of higher education in every meaningful sense except in the standards by which they recruit, promote and evaluate their faculty. The real crisis begins not when institutions disappear but when they continue to exist while quietly abandoning the purpose they were meant to serve. Pakistan’s college education system increasingly reflects this uncomfortable reality. Buildings stand, classrooms remain occupied, salaries are paid and degrees continue to be awarded, yet the intellectual purpose that ought to define higher education is steadily weakening. The system continues to function, but it no longer asks whether it is producing scholars, researchers and critical thinkers or merely issuing degrees. This contradiction is not merely administrative. It is national. Countries do not build knowledge economies simply by increasing enrolment or opening new campuses. They do so by ensuring that those entrusted with educating the next generation possess the intellectual depth, scholarly discipline and professional integrity demanded by higher education. Pakistan has expanded the responsibilities of its colleges without fundamentally reforming the standards governing those who teach in them. It is this mismatch between expanding responsibilities and stagnant reforms that explains much of the present crisis. History offers repeated warnings against confusing continuity with progress. Great civilisations have seldom been defeated by ignorance alone; far more often, they have been weakened by their refusal to reform. Ancient Troy believed its mighty walls guaranteed safety until destruction entered concealed within the famous wooden horse. Institutions, too, often collapse not because external forces overwhelm them but because internal weaknesses become too familiar to recognise. Pakistan’s colleges face a similar danger. The greatest threat is not inadequate infrastructure or declining enrolment. It is the quiet normalisation of standards that no longer correspond with the responsibilities these institutions now carry. Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in faculty recruitment. Every education system is ultimately only as strong as the people it appoints to teach. Laboratories, libraries and curricula matter, but they cannot compensate for weak academic recruitment. A nation’s classrooms reflect the intellectual standards it establishes at the point of entry into the profession. Countries that consistently perform well in higher education understand this principle with remarkable clarity. Finland recruits teachers from among its highest-performing graduates and treats teaching as one of the country’s most competitive professions. Singapore invests heavily in teacher selection, structured professional development and continuous evaluation throughout an educator’s career. South Korea subjects aspiring academics to rigorous competition, while Germany closely links academic progression with scholarly achievement and research productivity. These countries differ in culture, politics and economic history, yet they share one conviction that higher education depends first and foremost upon the quality of its faculty. Pakistan, regrettably, often operates on a different assumption. Recruitment is frequently treated as the culmination of academic achievement rather than its beginning. A lecturer appointed with only a sixteen years education may spend an entire career within the same system without acquiring higher qualifications or contributing substantially to research, yet still retire after holding senior academic positions carrying the titles of Associate Professor or Professor. Such a framework might have appeared understandable when colleges were primarily institutions for Intermediate education. It becomes increasingly indefensible once those same institutions award undergraduate degrees equivalent to those offered by universities. Academic titles should signify scholarly accomplishment rather than the mere passage of time. Across the world, the designation of Professor represents sustained intellectual contribution, recognised research, advanced qualifications and academic leadership. When promotion depends overwhelmingly upon seniority rather than scholarship, titles gradually lose their meaning. The loss is not symbolic alone. It diminishes public confidence in higher education itself. This is not an argument against experience. Experience remains indispensable in teaching. A seasoned educator often possesses insights that no newly qualified academic can immediately acquire. Classrooms are enriched by years of interaction with students, evolving pedagogical techniques and practical wisdom accumulated over decades. Experience, however, should complement scholarship, not replace it. Knowledge no longer remains static for an entire career. Disciplines evolve at astonishing speed. Artificial Intelligence is reshaping linguistics, medicine, engineering, law and the humanities alike. Climate science has transformed environmental studies. Digital humanities have altered literary scholarship. Advances in neuroscience continue redefining educational psychology. A qualification earned thirty years ago, valuable though it remains, cannot alone certify mastery over fields that have changed beyond recognition. Medicine provides an obvious comparison. No patient would willingly place complete trust in a surgeon who had never updated professional knowledge after graduation. Engineers continually adapt to changing technologies and safety standards. Judges engage with evolving constitutional interpretation. Military officers undergo regular professional education throughout their service. Every serious profession recognises that learning is continuous. Higher education cannot become the sole profession where intellectual growth effectively ends with appointment. The irony is that Pakistan’s college sector contains thousands of exceptionally capable teachers who have voluntarily pursued MPhil and PhD degrees despite limited institutional incentives. Many complete advanced research while balancing heavy teaching schedules, administrative responsibilities and family obligations. Their commitment deserves recognition because it reflects a genuine desire to improve professionally rather than merely fulfil formal requirements. Yet the existing structure frequently sends the opposite message. Promotion often rewards waiting more consistently than learning. When advanced qualifications receive insufficient institutional value, the incentive to pursue rigorous scholarship inevitably weakens. No education system can flourish if intellectual ambition appears optional while seniority remains sufficient. The anomaly becomes even more striking when one examines the present hierarchy within many public colleges. It is no longer uncommon to find an MPhil-qualified lecturer or even a PhD serving under an officer whose highest

For years, people uploaded photographs, videos and voice recordings believing they were sharing moments or building audiences. What many did not realise was that public material could become training data for artificial intelligence. Large AI systems may be developed using datasets containing personal information collected from websites and platforms. European regulators acknowledge that AI models can be trained on personal data, while the UK Information Commissioner says developers still need a lawful basis even when information comes from the open web. Training a general model and cloning a person are not identical. The first learns patterns across datasets; the second uses targeted samples to reproduce an identifiable voice or appearance. Yet both raise the same question: who authorised the use? A new proposition is emerging: instead of companies quietly collecting human material, people may knowingly license their faces, voices and movements for AI development or commercial digital replicas. In return, they could receive a one-time payment, royalties or a fee whenever their synthetic identity is used. This is beginning. Shutterstock operates a contributor fund that compensates contributors when material from its library is licensed for AI model development. SAG-AFTRA has negotiated protections for digital replicas. The voice platform Narrativ allows performers to set prices and advertising preferences for AI-generated versions of their voices, with payment for approved uses. At first glance, this is progress. People’s data has already been feeding digital systems, often without their knowledge, meaningful choice or financial benefit. A transparent marketplace could be fairer. At least individuals would know that a voice sample or facial scan was being collected. There would be a contract, and some value created from human identity could return to the human being. It could also create work. A person might license a recorded voice for educational narration in several languages. A model could approve a digital replica for advertisements without attending repeated shoots. People far from production centres might gain opportunities previously unavailable to them. But payment is not the same as protection. A person offered a modest amount may sign away far more than they understand. A broadly written agreement could allow a company to reproduce a face or voice for years, transfer it to other businesses, train additional models and place the replica in contexts the person would never endorse. The human receives one payment; the synthetic version may generate revenue indefinitely. Faces and voices are not ordinary digital products. A password can be changed after a breach. A face cannot. A cloned voice can imitate a family member, support a fraudulent request or manufacture a statement that was never made. The US Federal Trade Commission has warned that scammers can create convincing voice clones from short audio clips found online. The answer is not to ban every voluntary AI licence. It is to establish non-negotiable human protections. Consent must be specific, informed and renewable. Companies should state whether material will be used for training, identity replication or both. Agreements must define the product, audience, country, platform and time period. Permission for an educational video must not silently become permission for political advertising, gambling, medical claims, intimate material or religious messaging. Compensation should continue when the replica continues earning. Where a digital identity is repeatedly used, the person should receive royalties or per-use payments, not merely a small initial fee. Individuals should be able to set minimum prices, reject industries and see where their replica appeared. There must also be a genuine right to stop future use. Companies should delete source files, block new generations and notify third parties when a licence ends. Independent audits should test compliance. Strong security and penalties for leaks are essential because biometric material cannot simply be replaced. Every synthetic performance should carry visible disclosure and a machine-readable marker. The European Union’s transparency rules, applicable from 2 August 2026, require certain AI-generated or manipulated material to be identifiable and deepfakes to be disclosed. Labels will not prevent every abuse, but they help preserve the distinction between human action and machine-generated imitation. Children need stronger protection. Parents should not be able to permanently commercialise a child’s future identity. Any limited agreement should expire and require the individual’s fresh consent upon adulthood. Pakistan should treat this as urgent. As of 2026, the country still lacks a comprehensive enacted personal data protection law. This creates vulnerability just as international companies may seek diverse and comparatively inexpensive populations for AI training.  The greatest risk is not that humans will earn from AI. Fairly sharing value could correct years of silent extraction. The danger is that people will exchange permanent control for temporary payment. As AI advances, societies must recognise the face, voice and digital personality as extensions of the human person, not raw material waiting to be harvested. Without consent, continuing compensation, traceability and the power to say no, we may lose more than jobs or privacy. We may lose the trust that allows us to believe what we see, hear and recognise. AI should expand human possibility, not gradually replace human ownership of the self.