Hadi Ali Chatha (left) and Imaan Hazir Mazari (right) in the front seat, taking Asad Toor (at the back on the left) home after his release from Rawalpindi’s Adiala Jail, on March 17, 2024. Credit: Asad Toor

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, May 5 2026 (IPS)

“We’ve abandoned this couple completely; we have not done even 1% of what they did for us all these years!” said journalist Asad Ali Toor.

Arrested on January 23, 2026, two lawyers, also husband and wife – Imaan Mazari and Hadi Ali Chatha – were sentenced the next day to 17 years under the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), 2016 (amended in 2025) – a law Mazari had described as even more ‘draconian’ than its original version. Fines of Rs36 million (USD129,261) each were also imposed on the two under Sections 9 (glorification of an offence), 10 (cyber terrorism), and 26-A (false and fake information) under the same law.

“They have not violated PECA, and in my opinion the prosecution failed to prove any of the ingredients of any offence under the law,” said human rights activist and lawyer Jibran Nasir. He added that “the military elite and the new chief justice in the Islamabad High Court have taken a personal dislike to Imaan and Hadi.  He noted that “The laws may be inherently flawed, even draconian, but more dangerous is their malicious application by the state.”

The amendments on PECA were pushed through parliament within a week, without debate, and signed into law by President Asif Ali Zardari. The move triggered nationwide protests by journalists and rights groups, who warned that the law lacked safeguards. The government, however, defended it as necessary to regulate social media, arguing that similar frameworks exist globally.

Charges, Judgment and Allegations

The judgment stated that Mazari was accused of “disseminating and propagating narratives that align with hostile terrorist groups and proscribed organisations”, while Chatha was charged with reposting her content. The police report also alleged her social media content portrayed the armed forces as ineffective against groups such as the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA) and Tehreek-i-Taliban Pakistan.

Protestors gather outside the Islamabad Press Club to mark 100 days of the two lawyers’ continued detention. Credit: Rana Shahbaz

For Toor, who runs the YouTube channel Asad Toor Uncensored, the case is deeply personal. In 2024, he spent 20 days in Federal Investigation Agency custody and 12 in solitary confinement at Rawalpindi’s Adiala Jail, the same prison where the couple is now held.

Arrested on February 26, 2024, on “digital terrorism” charges linked to his coverage, among other things, of a Supreme Court ruling stripping the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf of its election symbol, he was granted bail on March 17, 2024.

He credits Mazari and Chatha with securing his release. “They argued that journalists should not face criminal charges for “honest criticism” of court judgments, citing then Chief Justice of Pakistan Qazi Faez Isa and Attor­ney General for Pakistan Mansoor Usman Awan.”

But journalists like Toor are not alone in feeling what he describes as “a certain vacuum.”

Rana Shahbaz’s milk stall was demolished by the city administration. Credit: Rana Shahbaz

‘It Feels Like I’ve Lost My Right Arm’

The two lawyers had built a reputation for taking on cases few lawyers would touch.

“Imaan and Hadi have always taken up cases most lawyers shy away from due to their controversial or dangerous nature — including blasphemy accusations, enforced disappearances, and press freedom cases — often representing the most marginalised people, without charging anything,” said rights activist Usama Khilji, director of Bolo Bhi, an advocacy forum for digital rights.

“It feels like I’ve lost my right arm,” said a woman, who requested anonymity, as she struggles to secure the release of her brother and more than 400 others accused of blasphemy, languishing in jail across Pakistan.

“In the past three years, I have met countless lawyers and even judges, but no one fought like Imaan. She missed nothing – every detail mattered; she was relentless,” said the woman, talking to IPS.

Leading the campaign, she said most of the accused came from poor backgrounds. “She didn’t even charge for the photocopying of documents submitted to the court – she paid out of her own pocket.”

An Amnesty International poster protesting the 100 days since Hadi Ali Chatha and Imaan Hazir Mazari were jailed. Credit: Amnesty International

The sense of loss extends well beyond individual cases.

Rahat Mehmood, mother of missing poet and writer Mudassir Naru, who disappeared in 2018 described the couple’s arrest as devastating.

“It’s like my support system has collapsed,” she said over the phone from Faisalabad. “Not just for me—these two were a ray of hope, an anchor for hundreds of mothers, especially Baloch mothers.”

Mazari’s work, she said, was not limited to legal representation.

Her grandson, Sachal, was just six months old when his father was taken and later lost his mother in 2021. Court hearings, Mehmood recalled, became rare moments of relief. “They played hide-and-seek, raced around, and she would bring him toys and candy. Tell me—who does that?”

Although her son’s case has not been heard in over a year, Mehmood said that, with Mazari by their side, they had always had hope. “But now,” she added, “it’s all darkness.”

At the wedding of Imaan Mazari and Hadi Ali Chatha, Sachal (son of Mudassir Naru) sits between the two, on the far right; in black, Rahat Mehmood, Naru’s mother, sits. Credit: Rahat Mehmood

Mazari’s advocacy extended beyond the courtroom. She appeared in two of the three press conferences held by families of the blasphemy accused, which drew “huge crowds and media attention”. Today, more than 120 people are out on bail. “It’s because of the efforts of these two,” said the sister of the accused.

Their absence is being felt acutely among many others with the least protection.

A week after the lawyers’ arrest, Rana Shahbaz, a street vendor, went to visit Mazari in jail but was turned away. “I was told by jail authorities no one was allowed to meet her.” He had brought dry fruits, juices and clothes, which authorities refused to accept.

Shahbaz, president of the Anjuman Rehri Baan, Islamabad (association of street vendors), which represents over 20,000 street vendors, said Mazari had been instrumental in securing relief for them. Despite holding licences from the Metropolitan Corporation Islamabad, they routinely face raids and eviction by city administrations.

“Last year because of Madam Imaan, the Islamabad High Court stopped authorities from removing our stalls. She presented video evidence showing stalls being dismantled despite having permits,” Shahbaz said.

Since their arrest, he added, the pressure has returned.

“The day they were arrested, an official told us, ‘Call your lawyers now — I’ll see who stops me.’ She was right — only Madam Imaan had the courage to stand up for us,” said Shahbaz, whose stall has been destroyed thrice in the past two years.

“It costs Rs150,000 (USD 538) to set up these makeshift stalls – financed through a bank loan with a monthly instalment of Rs7,000 ($25). Each time authorities dismantle them, repairs cost up to Rs40,000 (US$144), making it impossible to keep up with repayments and pushing me toward default,” he said. Last week, despite having a valid licence, his lassi (yoghurt drink) and fresh milk stall were demolished.

The pretext for crackdowns can be anything—from late-night vending to fines for not displaying price lists or even refusing to offer “freebies” to the police. “Madam Imaan knew well that vendors are exempt from the curfew time for regular shops or that we can only display the price list once it comes from the city authorities and it doesn’t until midday,” he pointed out.

Like many others, Shahbaz said, the two lawyers worked for vendors for free. “We didn’t even know what the basic legal processes cost,” he said.

Muted Response

Despite the breadth of their work, support beyond affected communities has been limited.

“I hold both the journalist and legal fraternities responsible for doing virtually nothing,” said Toor. “Individual voices may struggle, but unions and bar councils have the power to pressure the government.”

Toor’s assessment is shared by lawyer Nasir. He acknowledged that the legal fraternity, with “many lawyers, like judges, appear to be motivated by self-preservation as opposed to the preservation of the constitutional and fundamental freedoms” and which has “blunted its effectiveness” and left it “equally vulnerable” in the long run.

Yet, even as this institutional weakness is laid bare, others frame the duo’s actions less as miscalculation and more as conscious defiance. Media development expert Adnan Rehmat argued that while some may see them as having paid a heavy price for their stance, the two have a long history of public-interest resistance. “They consciously chose to risk themselves to highlight state abuses, and their courage should be lauded—and we must continue raising our voices in their favour.”

As a result, sporadic protests have failed to shift the situation. With public pressure waning, the battle has moved to the courts.

An Uncertain Path

But even there, justice has remained elusive.

The Islamabad High Court refused interim relief. “Everyone knows the 17-year sentence is the product of a sham trial. No superior court in any modern judicial system would uphold it,” said senior advocate Faisal Siddiqi, the lawyer representing them.

Undeterred, the defence has moved the Supreme Court of Pakistan after the IHC failed to fix an early hearing for nearly two months – a delay which Siddiqui called “unheard of” and a ploy to “deny Imaan and Hadi their deserved liberty”.

The bail petition has since been accepted by the Supreme Court, offering a glimmer of hope. “It is our only and last hope,” said Siddiqi.

One hundred days on, that hope remains uncertain.

What is clearer, however, is the void left behind – felt in courtrooms, in protest spaces, and in the lives of those who had come to rely on the two lawyers willing to take risks few others would.

For many, it is not just their absence that is being measured in days but also the growing silence it has left behind.

“I cannot fathom why people like Imaan and Hadi are being punished—and for what,” said Mehmood. “They deserve to be saluted, not jailed!”

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The Sindh government has started distributing solar home systems to 200,000 low-income households under the Sindh Solar Energy Project to improve electricity access. Credit: Sindh People’s Housing for Flood Affectees

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

Energy expert Vaqar Zakaria believes solar power makes “excellent economic sense” – and he lives by it. For over five years, his rooftop panels have slashed his bills, sometimes to zero, even allowing him to sell surplus electricity back through net metering.

Last month, he took it further. After buying two electric vehicles, he has almost “declared independence” from the national grid. With more panels and doubled batteries, even his cars run on sunshine. “I am moving away from their fuel, and I don’t need their power,” said the CEO of Hagler Bailly, Pakistan, an Islamabad-based environmental consultancy firm, over the phone from Islamabad.

“I call it the hand of God driving my car,” Zakaria said.

He is already seeing economic gains from his investment. “The electricity I generate, including battery costs, comes to about Rs 12 (USD 0.043) per unit, while it can be sold to the Islamabad Electric Supply Company at around Rs 26 (USD 0.092) per unit.” However, he adds that he does not currently claim this benefit, as it requires considerable follow-up.

Doing some quick back-of-the-envelope calculations, he compared the petrol-run vehicles he used until a few months back to the EV he purchased a month ago. “The total cost of operating the EV comes to about Rs 2 (USD 0.0071) per km using power generated at home, compared to the Rs 27 (USD 0.096) per km I was paying earlier for running vehicles on the fossil fuel.”

This figure does not include the regular maintenance costs his earlier cars required—lubricating oils, oil and air filters, and brakes.

“An EV requires near-zero maintenance,” he added.

Vaqar Zakaria’s white EV charges under rooftop solar panels at his home — powered by the sun. Credit: Vaqar Zakaria

While Zakaria can afford a full shift off the grid, most households cannot.

“The solar landscape will remain unchanged unless power companies introduce profit-sharing models that turn consumers into ‘prosumers’ – both producers and users of energy – supported by microfinance to help cover upfront costs,” he said. Achieving this would require the privatisation of utilities.”

For now, with or without batteries, solar energy has become a popular alternative for many households. “What’s happening in Pakistan is quite significant, as electricity consumers’ dependence on the national grid is falling,” explained Rabia Babar, data manager at Renewables First, an Islamabad-based think-and-do tank for energy and environment.

Grid-based electricity demand, she pointed out, dropped 11 percent in FY25 compared to FY22 levels, largely because more people and businesses are switching to solar.

“During the day, far less electricity is being drawn from the grid, which means gas-fired power plants are being used much less than before.”

More than 100 young Pakistani women from across the country have been trained in and certified in solar roof installation by LADIESFUND Energy Pvt Ltd through Dawood Global Foundation’s Educate a Girl programme. They have solarised a women’s shelter, a church and an orphanage. Credit: LADIESFUND Energy (Pvt.) Ltd

The Turning Point

Haneea Isaad, an energy finance specialist at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis, recalled the time in 2022, as the turning point when people realised they needed a cheaper alternative. “The prices of liquefied natural gas shot up after Russian forces entered Ukraine and the country faced a gas shortage, resulting in widespread power outages. Electricity prices almost tripled in just a couple of years.”

Those who could afford to, Isaad said, opted for a one-time investment in installing solar panels instead of paying for expensive and unreliable electricity.

According to EMBER,  an independent clean energy think tank, solar’s share in the energy mix has risen from 2.9 percent in 2020 to 32.3 percent by the end of 2025.

It is this quiet solar revolution that may help ride out the current energy crisis triggered by the United States-Israel war on Iran, which led to the shutting of the Strait of Hormuz, according to a report by Renewables First and the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air, published earlier this week.

“Pakistan’s solar revolution is quietly redrawing the country’s energy map, cutting grid dependence, reducing LNG exposure, and building a buffer against global market shocks that most of its neighbours are yet to find,” said Babar, one of the co-authors of the report.

A house in rural Gilgit with solar panels. Credit: SHAMA Solar.

In fact, the report says that Pakistan has avoided over USD 12 billion in oil and gas imports since 2020 due to its rapid solar growth – and could save another USD 6.3 billion in 2026 alone at current prices.

Lead analyst Lauri Myllyvirta, co-founder of CREA, said the solar boom has cut import bills and now acts “like an insurance policy” against oil and LNG shocks from the Gulf.

Industries are also turning to solar, significantly reducing their need for LNG significantly.

“This shift has had a direct impact on government policy. Pakistan has gone back to its LNG suppliers to renegotiate long-term contracts for the diversion of surplus cargoes to international markets, which are now oversupplied due to the sharp reduction in gas consumption,” said Babar.

Pakistan has been importing LNG since 2015, after domestic reserves declined. It has been mainly used in the power sector – accounting for nearly a quarter of Pakistan’s electricity supply – followed by the industrial sector.

Supplied from Qatar via the Strait of Hormuz, LNG has become less attractive due to high prices for industry and the growing shift to solar in homes. With some LNG landing in Pakistan before the conflict began and domestic gas filling the gap from affected cargoes, supplies may be enough to last until mid-April.

“Pakistan has historically been vulnerable to volatile global LNG prices, which strain on foreign exchange reserves when prices spike,” Babar said.

Isaad agreed. “Solar has provided a buffer. With the power sector also relying on coal imports from Indonesia and South Africa, supply pressures are unlikely to pose a problem in the near term. Seasonal hydropower and mild weather are also likely to prevent an immediate spike in LNG based power demand. For now, Pakistan has been spared – unlike Bangladesh and India, which have been hit the hardest in South Asia.”

Not Out of the Woods Yet

But the solar panels have not shielded Pakistanis from the rising oil prices. The country saw a 20 percent jump – the highest in its history – with petrol and diesel costing USD 1.15 and USD 1.20 per litre, respectively. As transport drives the economy, higher oil prices quickly pushed up fares and the cost of groceries.

In response, Zakaria said the crisis highlights a clear path forward: embrace EVs, reduce diesel dependence, and expand renewables. “Begin with two-wheelers,” he suggested, though a full EV mass transit system would be ideal for Pakistan. He added that shifting freight from trucks to rail could significantly cut fuel costs.

He said he supports the oil rationing and austerity measures taken by the government.

Last week, addressing the nation, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif announced these measures on television.

“The entire region is currently in a state of war,” he said, outlining steps, including a four-day workweek for government employees and spring holidays for schools from March 16 to the end of the month. He also said 50 percent of government staff would work from home on a rotating basis and recommended similar arrangements for the private sector.

Higher education institutions have shifted to online classes to save fuel, as have meetings across federal and provincial governments. Fuel allowances for government offices have also been reduced.

Under the government’s austerity measures, federal and provincial cabinet members will forgo two months’ salaries and allowances, while lawmakers’ pay will be reduced by 25 percent. Ministers, parliamentarians, and officials may travel abroad only when essential — and must fly economy. Weddings will be capped at 200 guests, served with a single-dish meal.

The Human Cost

But these measures have brought little relief to Saba Nasreen’s household finances. The 52-year-old mother of two, who works as a domestic help, said, “Rising fuel prices have literally crippled us; when fuel costs go up, food prices follow. We hardly buy fruit or meat; now even milk and vegetables are beyond our range,” she said.

With Eid ul-Fitr—the Muslim festival marking the end of Ramadan—just days away, she said, “This will be the first Eid in as long as I can remember that I won’t be making sheer khurma for my daughters,” referring to the traditional sweet vermicelli dish prepared in many Muslim households across the subcontinent. “The price of a box of vermicelli has doubled this year, from Rs 150 (USD 0.53) to Rs 300 (USD 1.07),” she said, adding, “In any case, the attack on Iran has already dimmed our festivities; I’m not happy inside, my heart feels heavy.”

For many, the solar revolution offers hope — but for households like Nasreen’s, the struggle continues.

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The photo shows an all-girls cricket team from Dir that made it to the finals of the inter-regional games, all without coaching, back in 2023. "Imagine what they can achieve with the right facilities and proper training," said Noorena Shams, also from Dir. Courtesy: Noorena Shams

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Mar 4 2026 (IPS)

“I was very happy to see the way Aina Wazir was playing cricket,” says 28-year-old Noorena Shams, a professional squash player, when she saw the seven-year-old’s video. The clip, which spread rapidly across social media, drew widespread praise for the young girl’s remarkable talent.

But the events that unfolded were like reliving her past.

“It was like watching my younger self,” said Shams, who belongs to Dir, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), bordering Afghanistan, close to where Aina lives in North Waziristan. Both are part of Pakistan’s tribal region.

“Aina, like me, does not have a father to fight the world for her,” she said quietly.

The video also caught the attention of Javed Afridi, CEO of Peshawar Zalmi, who expressed interest in inducting Aina into the upcoming Zalmi Women League. In a post on X, he requested her contact details, promising her cricket equipment and training facilities.

“We couldn’t have imagined the video would get so much attention,” said her cousin, requesting anonymity, speaking to IPS by phone from Shiga Zalwel Khel, a village along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border in North Waziristan. “We were overjoyed; it meant new opportunities and a brighter future for her.”

But the joy was short-lived.

Caught Between Militancy and Military

The video caught the attention of local militants.

Angered by the public display of a girl playing sport, the militants abducted Zafran Wazir—a local teacher who had filmed and uploaded the video with the family’s consent—and forced him to issue a public apology for violating “Islamic values and Pashtun traditions”. It has been reported that he was tortured.

The militants have warned the family that Aina cannot leave the village and that the girl must not accept any offers from anyone. “They said she can play cricket,” said her cousin, “But there should be no videos.”

“Ordinary people in the region are caught between a rock and a hard place—trapped between militant groups and the Pakistan army’s ongoing armed operations,” said Razia Mehsood, 36, a journalist from South Waziristan. “The Taliban tolerate no dissent, and our once-peaceful region is now scarred by landmines on the ground and quadcopters and drones overhead. People are living under constant psychological strain,” she added.

Noorena Shams, a professional squash player, has shown her support for Aina Wazir. Courtesy: Noorena Shams

Defying the Odds

“I hope she [Aina] can leave the place,” said Maria Toorpakai, 35, the first tribal Pakistani woman who went to play in international squash tournaments, turning professional in 2007.

“Whenever there is a talented girl, every effort should be made to remove her from the toxic environment—even if it means a huge sacrifice from the family,” she said, who belongs to neighbouring South Waziristan but was speaking to IPS from Toronto, where she now resides.

Both Toorpakai and Shams had to leave their homes to escape relentless scrutiny. Belonging to a conservative and patriarchal region, they had to disguise themselves as boys to pursue sports.

Toorpakai cut her hair short, dressed like a boy, and renamed herself “Genghis Khan” to participate in competitive sports.

Shams, meanwhile, was hesitantly allowed to play badminton because it was deemed “more appropriate for young women”.

Despite her parents’ support, she watched boys playing in the only cricket club in Dir, founded by her father.

But theirs is not the only journey fraught with hurdles because of a patriarchal mindset and a rigid tribal background where women’s visibility itself is contested.

“The greatest tragedy is that women’s voices are silenced and excluded from representation, while traditions disguised as religion persist, tying honour and dishonour to women,” said Mehsood. Both Toorpakai and Shams know all this too well. Their families faced constant social rebuke and accusations for bringing dishonour to their villages and tribes, all for playing a sport.

They are not alone.

Athletes like Sadia Gul (former Pakistan No. 1 in squash), Tameen Khan (who in 2022 was Pakistan’s fastest female sprinter), and Salma Faiz (cricketer) relocated from districts including Bannu, D.I. Khan, and Karak to Peshawar, the provincial capital—not just for better opportunities but to escape constant scrutiny.

“If you’re lucky enough that your grandfather, father, or brother doesn’t put a stop to your dreams, then it will be your uncles,” said Salma Faiz, the only sister among six brothers. “And if not them, the neighbours will start counting the minutes you take to get home. They’ll question why you train under male coaches, who watches your matches, and even what you wear beneath your chador. And if it’s still not them, then the villagers will whisper behind your back or land at your doorstep, convincing your parents that girls shouldn’t play sports at all.”

Faiz endured opposition from her elder brother but never gave up cricket. She eventually got selected for the national women’s cricket team.

“Aina is fortunate to receive such overwhelming applause,” said Faiz, now 40, living in Peshawar and working as a lecturer in health and physical education at Shaheed Benazir Bhutto Women University.

“I urge her parents not to surrender to social pressure; they should stand by her and encourage her. She has extraordinary talent—I’ve seen the way she plays,” Faiz pointed out.

Safe Spaces for Women Athletes

Each of these women is now creating ways for their younger counterpart to access the opportunity they lacked.

Faiz has opened her home to girls from tribal regions pursuing sport. When space runs out, she arranges hostel accommodation to ensure they get a shot at opportunities that would likely never reach their village.

Toorpakai, through the Maria Toorpakai Foundation, has, over the years, built a strong network, providing safe spaces for young sportswomen from her region.

But now she wants to go beyond providing temporary support. Her vision to build a state-of-the-art Toorpakai Sports School—a residential facility where girls like Aina Wazir can train seriously, study properly, and live without fear—remains a dream.

“All I want from the state is six acres of land near Islamabad,” she said. “Far enough from tribal hostility but accessible to girls from across Pakistan and international coaches I intend to rope in. I can manage the rest. I can raise funds.”

For over two years, her proposal has been stalled by bureaucratic red tape. “It tells you everything,” she said. “The state simply isn’t interested.”

Shams, too, like Toorpakai, runs the Noorena Shams Foundation, currently supporting four women athletes by giving them a monthly stipend for their training, transport and rent. But if anyone else needs equipment, tuition fees, or house rent, her foundation is able to furnish those needs. She even helped construct two cricket pitches for Faiz’s university.

As the first female athlete elected to the executive committees of the Provincial Squash Association, the Sports Management Committee, the Olympic Association, and the Pakistan Cycling Federation, she has championed young athletes—especially sportswomen— ensuring their concerns are heard.

“I continue to bring to the table issues of athletes’ mental and physical health, the need for international-level coaching, the safety and harassment women face, and the importance of integrating competitive sports into school curricula.”

Using Religion to Quash Dreams

Social media may have provided Aina Wazir with a platform to showcase her talent, but it has also exposed her to hostility.

“We are not against a child playing cricket,” said 27-year-old Mufti Ijaz Ahmed, a religious scholar from South Waziristan. “But she must stop once she becomes a woman. It is against our traditions for women to run around in pants and shirts in public. It is vulgar. If Aina is allowed to do this, every girl will want to follow—and we cannot accept that.”

“The mera jism, meri marzi (my body, my choice) slogan will not work here,” Ahmed went on, referring to a popular slogan that has been chanted since March 8, 2018, and which came under heavy criticism for being a rebellion against the cultural values and Islam.

“Who is he to declare that Aina can’t play?” retorted an incensed Maria Toorpakai, who also serves on the International Olympic Committee’s (IOC) Women in Sport Commission. “Whenever a girl picks up a bat or a ball, Islam is said to be endangered,” she added.

“I would respect them if they confronted and condemned the real ills in my region—drug abuse, child marriage, bacha bazi (the exploitation of adolescent boys coerced into cross-dressing, dancing, and sexual abuse), and the spread of HIV and AIDS. Instead, they obsess over distorted ideas of honour and dishonour. They neither understand the world we live in nor the true essence of Islam. Moreover, they have done nothing for our people.”

National responsibility

Ultimately, she argued, the responsibility lies with the state. It cannot afford to look away while intimidation silences young girls with talent and ambition. It is not only a personal tragedy but also a national loss when talent in remote villages is stifled before it can surface.

“It is the government’s duty to deal firmly with such elements,” she said. “And if it cannot protect its daughters, then it must ask itself why it is in power at all.”

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Activists at a My body, My choice protest. Credit: Voicepk.net

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Jan 8 2026 (IPS)

As 2026 dawns, women in Pakistan are left grappling with a stark reality: rape and marital rape continue to be misinterpreted by judges in the country’s highest courts.

Earlier this month, Pakistan’s Supreme Court set aside a rape conviction, changing it to fornication (consensual sex out of marriage) – reducing a 20-year sentence to five years and slashing the fine from 500,000 rupees to 10,000 rupees, sparking fresh calls for better protections for Pakistani women.

“Such judgments do not give confidence to women to come out and report sexual violence perpetrated on them,” said Ayesha Farooq, chairperson of the government-notified Committee of the Anti-Rape Investigation and Trial Act, formed in 2021.

Despite protective legislation, 70 percent of gender-based violence incidents go unreported. Of those reported, the national conviction rate stands at just 5 percent, with some categories as low as 0.5 percent and domestic violence convictions at 1.3 percent.

Poor judgments may discourage survivors of sexual violence from reporting their cases to the authorities. Illustration: Kulsum Ebrahim/IPS

Senator Sherry Rehman highlighted the stark figures: in 2024, Islamabad had seven convictions out of 176 rape cases, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa one out of 258, Sindh none from 243 rape cases and Balochistan reported 21 rapes with no convictions.

Nida Aly, Executive Director of AGHS, said, “I have never felt so disappointed in our judiciary. Judges have failed as a gender-competent forum and lost credibility.”

The Supreme Court case involved a survivor who, in 2015, was raped at gunpoint while relieving herself in the woods. She reported the incident seven months later; DNA tests confirmed the accused as the father of her child. The trial court convicted him, and the Lahore High Court upheld the verdict. Yet at the Supreme Court, two of three judges reclassified the act as fornication, citing the complainant’s silence, lack of resistance, and absence of physical marks. Section 496-B of the Penal Code prescribes five years’ imprisonment and a Rs10,000 fine for fornication.

This reasoning drew sharp criticism from the National Commission on the Status of Women, which said consent cannot be inferred from silence, delayed reporting, or lack of resistance, and urged courts to recognise the realities of trauma, fear, coercion, and power imbalances in sexual violence cases.

Ironically, after the recasting of the case, the woman was exempted from punishment.

She was reminded of another case of rape in 2024, where a woman accused her brother’s friend of rape.

“The same judge converted the conviction of rape into fornication – along with arguments like “the woman showed no resistance; there were no marks of violence” and there was a two-day delay in reporting to the police.

Justice Ayesha Malik’s dissenting note arguing there was no “standardised” rulebook response by the victim emphasised consent.

Jamshed M. Kazi, Country Representative, UN Women Pakistan, said such cases resonate far beyond the courtroom. “The language used and the conclusions reached shape not only legal precedent but also social attitudes, survivor confidence, and public trust in justice.”

He added, “For survivors of sexual violence, judgements can leave lasting marks on the lives of women and girls, affecting how their experiences are believed and remembered, and may discourage reporting, reinforcing silence, fear, or self-doubt among survivors.”

Another case saw the Lahore High Court dismiss rape complaints against a husband because he was still legally married, even though he raped the woman at gunpoint. The judge, while maintaining the conduct of the man to be “immoral” and “inappropriate under religious or social norms”, said it was not a crime since the marriage continued to exist legally at the time of the incident.

“The judge focused on the validity of the marriage and completely disregarded the woman’s claim of non-consent and being subjected to forced sex at gunpoint,” pointed out Aly.

While there is no explicit provision criminalising marital rape, the Protection of Women (Criminal Law Amendment) Act, 2006 removed marriage as a defence to rape. When the definition of rape was substantially revised under the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2021, no marital exemption was reintroduced.

Between 1979 and 2006, Maliha Zia, Director, Gender, Inclusion & Development at the Karachi-based Legal Aid Society, explained, marriage operated as a defence to rape because the law defined rape as sexual intercourse by a man with a woman “who is not his wife” under specified circumstances. The deliberate removal of the words “not his wife” in 2006 therefore eliminated marriage as a defence, a position that has remained unchanged since.

“The 2006 Protection of Women Act was an important step; it corrected major injustices by separating rape from zina (unlawful sexual intercourse – including adultery and fornication),” said Dr Sharmila Faruqui, a member of the National Assembly.  “But it stopped short of clearly saying that lack of consent within marriage is also rape and that silence has allowed old assumptions to survive.”

Faruqui stressed the need for judicial sensitisation, particularly at senior levels, but noted that judges are ultimately bound by the law. “When the law is unclear, even well-intentioned interpretations can go wrong,” she said. She called for legislative clarity—through a penal code amendment or another carefully considered route—emphasising that consent, grounded in dignity and equality, must remain central regardless of marital status. “Marriage was never meant to be a license for violence.”

This was endorsed by Zia, who has been among the trainers of judges who hear GBV cases. “Much work needs to be done to constantly sensitise the justice sector on women’s experiences and the trauma they go through due to sexual violence. “Many work on the assumption that the woman is most likely lying, especially if she didn’t fight or run or report straight away,” she added.

To its credit, Pakistan, under the anti-rape act of 2021 special courts were notified to look into gender-based violence cases. To date there are 174 such courts. Unfortunately, these courts are not exclusively handling GBV cases, said Zia. But even with this limitation, rape case convictions in Sindh rose to 17 percent in 2025, from 5 percent in 2020, when such courts did not exist. “Imagine how much better it could be!” According to her, in districts where there is a high caseload of GBV, courts should be exclusive, not necessarily more.

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Rakhi Matan holds bottles of cough syrup in her palm. This is what she gave to her kids two weeks back when they were feeling ill. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Nov 11 2025 (IPS)

When 23 children died in India’s Madhya Pradesh after consuming contaminated cough syrup in early September, the news barely registered across the border. In Pakistan—where self-medication is rampant and syrup bottles are household staples—the tragedy strikes dangerously close to home.

Many in Pakistan remain unaware that those sweet, over-the-counter syrups can be fatal. In the recent Indian case, the children—all under six—died of kidney failure after consuming syrup laced with diethylene glycol (DEG), a toxic solvent found at 500 times the permissible limit.

Investigations revealed the manufacturer, Sresan, had sourced industrial-grade propylene glycol from local chemical and paint dealers instead of certified pharmaceutical suppliers. With no qualified chemist overseeing production, the syrup went untested—and deadly.

This isn’t the first such incident. In 2022, Indian-made syrups caused the deaths of at least 70 children in The Gambia and 18 in Uzbekistan. Between December 2019 and January 2020, at least 12 children died in Indian-administered Kashmir after taking similarly contaminated syrup.

The prescribing doctor in India was the first to be arrested, followed by the suspension of the drug inspector and deputy director. The manufacturer, who had been absconding since September, has now been caught.

“It shows that even doctors can get caught in legal and ethical trouble, even when unaware of a drug’s quality issues,” said Professor Mishal Khan of the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine. “The tragedy is a warning for Pakistan—weak regulation hurts everyone: doctors, pharma companies, and patients alike.”

A 2024 study by Khan found that approximately 40 percent of Karachi doctors accepted incentives in return for prescribing medicines from a fake pharmaceutical company without any checks on the company’s manufacturing standards or medicine quality. Antibiotics and cough syrups were among the medicines they agreed to promote.

As Pakistan enters its flu season, Karachi’s hospitals are filling up. “Between 50 to 70 percent of children who visit our clinics have respiratory tract infections,” said Dr. Wasim Jamalvi of Dr. Ruth K. M. Pfau, Civil Hospital Karachi.

And with the flu comes a predictable companion: cough syrup.

“If a child is brought for consultation for fever, cough and cold, parents feel a prescription is incomplete without a cough syrup,” said Dr. D.S. Akram, a senior pediatrician, who stopped prescribing them two decades ago. “Cough syrups don’t work—they just make the children drowsy or irritable,” she said.

Jamalvi agrees, “We don’t recommend syrups for under-fives, but parents still give them—they’re easily available over the counter.”

Self-Medication Culture

In Pakistan, cough syrups—often called sherbet—are viewed as harmless cures.

“I swear by this syrup a doctor gave me years ago,” said Mohammad Yusuf, a 31-year-old houseboy. “One spoon at night and I sleep better.”

Two weeks ago, when Rakhi Matan’s children, aged 10 and 13, came down with the flu, she reached for a bottle of leftover cough syrup from last year. “It saved me the doctor’s fee—he’d have prescribed the same thing,” she said.

Such casual self-medication is common—and hard to control.

Dr. Qaiser Sajjad, former secretary general of the Pakistan Medical Association, said regulating cough syrup sales is nearly impossible with thousands of quacks operating in the city. Medical store worker Majid Yusufzai agreed, admitting syrups are sold freely without prescriptions and “entire families share the same bottle.”

Health experts say Pakistan’s culture of self-prescription—reinforced by weak enforcement and cheap access to medicines—makes the system vulnerable to similar disasters.

Dr. Obaidullah Malik, heading the Drug Regulatory Authority of Pakistan (DRAP), told IPS that Pakistan imported the majority of the raw materials (for several drugs, including cough syrups) from India and China.

With over 100,000 drug manufacturing companies, India, referred to as the ‘pharmacy of the world,’ is known for affordable generic drugs. But recent deaths have cast a long shadow on its safety standards.

Tighter Drug Oversight

“It is of great concern,” said Malik, adding that scrutiny of domestic quality control was enhanced after it received a global alert from the WHO on October 13, of three substandard cough syrups manufactured in India.

“Thankfully, the contaminated syrups were never exported to Pakistan,” confirmed Malik. “There’s no evidence of illegal shipments either—but we’re staying vigilant to ensure a tragedy like India’s doesn’t happen here.”

“DRAP has made it mandatory for all pharmaceuticals, including herbal and nutraceutical manufacturers as well as importers, to pre-test additives such as glycerin, propylene glycol, and sorbitol—either in their own laboratories or through public sector facilities like the Central Drugs Laboratory (CDL) in Karachi or the 12 provincial drug testing,” said Malik. The authority is double-checking vendor credentials and certifications and instructed field teams to step up sampling and testing—both of raw materials coming in and the finished syrups.

Recently, it trained pharma company reps from Nepal, Gambia, Sierra Leone, Maldives, and Sri Lanka on a quick detection method called Thin Layer Chromatography (TLC), which helps spot contamination early—saving time, cutting costs, and improving safety checks nationwide.

There are between 700 and 800 pharmaceutical companies across Pakistan, but only about 300 are members of the Pakistan Pharmaceutical Manufacturers Association—leaving much of the industry operating with little oversight. Yet, despite its fledgling state compared to India’s, Pakistan’s pharma sector is eager to expand into global markets. Khan cautioned that the recent scandal over unsafe medicines could jeopardize those ambitions before they even take off.

To avoid a similar crisis and protect its reputation abroad, Pakistan’s regulator has stepped up oversight at home. “Since November 2023, DRAP has recalled 63 finished products contaminated with diethylene glycol (DEG) and ethylene glycol (EG), identified 44 impurities, and issued 13 alerts about contaminated raw materials,” said DRAP’s CEO.

As Karachi’s clinics continue to fill up this flu season, syrup bottles are flying off shelves—often with no pharmacist in sight. “It’s just a syrup,” said Yusuf. He does not know, but for dozens of families across the border, that sweet bottle brought irreversible loss.

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A session titled Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 5 2025 (IPS)

The message is clear: today’s youth are not “wishy-washy.” They are not just the future—they are the present, full partners in shaping it, and “power-sharing” is the new mantra. The veterans of activism are being reminded not merely to listen but to hear and to leave their egos at the door.

These were among the many resonant takeaways from the five-day International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University.

Yet beneath the optimistic rhetoric, a different mood lingered. Many young participants seemed despondent, feeling short-changed by their elders—empowered in words, but excluded in practice.

At a session titled “Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia,” young voices from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, and Nepal shared their frustrations and fears for the future.

Student activist Ammad Talpur at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

In Pakistan, said student activist Ammad Talpur, nepotism runs deep, inequality is horrific and brutal, and the powerful break laws with impunity. “We long for change, but fear silences us, as those in power will not brook dissent.”

A similar sense of frustration echoes beyond Pakistan.

“Though sometimes its exercise may come at a cost, youth in India are free to say anything and freedom of speech does exist,” Adrian D’ruz, another panelist, told IPS after the session. And journalists, academics, students, and comedians who questioned those in power, he said, reportedly faced legal action, online harassment, or institutional pressure.

To curb dissent, legal provisions are misapplied, resulting in people “leaning towards self-censorship rather than risking consequences,” said D’Cruz, a member of a network of NGOs in India called Wada Na Todo Abhiyan, which promotes governance accountability and inclusion of marginalized communities.

While Pakistan and India illustrate the pressures youth face under entrenched power, in Nepal the response has taken a more visible, street-level form, riding a wave of unrest that began in Sri Lanka and Bangladesh.

In Kathmandu, “rising unemployment, corruption, nepotism, and broken promises” fueled the unrest, said Tikashwari Rai, a young Nepali mother of two daughters, worried for their future.

Tikashwari Rai, a Nepali mother of two daughters, at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

“We don’t want to work as domestic help in the Middle East; we want opportunities here, in our own country. But because there are none, many young people are forced to leave,” she explained.

Yet, she admitted, the protests came at a heavy cost—lives lost and infrastructure destroyed. “Our youth need guidance and stronger organization to lead social movements effectively,” she added.

Beyond the immediate triggers of street protests, some activists argue that deeper systemic issues fuel youth disenchantment.

Melani Gunathilaka, a climate and political activist from Sri Lanka, at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

Melani Gunathilaka, a young climate and political activist from Sri Lanka, who was also on the panel, believed the roots of disenchantment ran deeper. “While these protests are often labeled as anti-government, at their core, they demand systemic change and true accountability from those in power.”

The immediate triggers seem to spread across corruption, authoritarian governments, repression, lack of access to basic needs and more,” she said.

A closer look at the situation in countries like Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Kenya, however, exposed economic hardship, debt burdens, and deepening inequalities. And this trend is also observed globally, she pointed out.

Despite these frustrations, the conference also explored how young and older activists can work together, not just to protest, but to reshape movements constructively.

“Across civil society, there is growing recognition that youth must be meaningfully included in development and nation-building. While progress varies from group to group, the direction of change is unmistakably forward,” said D’cruz.

Talpur further fine-tuned D’Cruz’s sentiment. “It’s not about taking over; it’s about working together through collaboration.” He also found it “unfair for the boomers to create a mess and leave it to the millennials and Gen Z to fix it.”

Interestingly, the sentiment found an echo among the older generation itself. Founder of the Alternative ASEAN Network on Burma, Debbie Stothard, said it was unfair to leave the mess her generation had created to the young and then expect them to “fix it.”

Speaking at the closing plenary titled “Futures We’re Building: Youth, Climate and Intergenerational Justice, she noted that she had been talking about “intergenerational equity” for 40 years, yet many in her generation of activists still fail to “walk the talk” in how they live and lead. Still, she added, it is not too late: “We can still make space.”

That space, she explained, begins with a change in mindset. “It’s not our job to empower the youth; it’s recognizing that they have power,” she said—a reminder that true equity lies not in giving power away, but in acknowledging it already exists.

This shift in perspective is already reshaping how movements operate. Youth no longer need to “look up to” traditional authority figures for inspiration, said D’cruz. Many within their generation are already leading change.

Mihajlo Matkovic, a member of the Youth Action Team at CIVICUS, from Serbia, also at the closing, demonstrated how real change required innovation and persistence. “Because our generation did not have any great example of what a direct democracy looks like,” he said, adding, “We had to basically reinvent it.”

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Rajagopal P.V. at the International Civil Society Week (ICSW2025) in Bangkok. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 4 2025 (IPS)

“If nations can have defense ministries, why not peace ministries?” asks Rajagopal PV, the soft-spoken yet formidable founder of Ekta Parishad. “We are told to see issues through a gender lens—why not a peace lens? Why can’t we imagine a business model rooted in non-violence or an education system that teaches peace?”

Founded in 1989, Ekta Parishad—literally Forum for Unity—is a vast people’s movement of more than 250,000 landless poor, now recognized as one of India’s largest and most disciplined grassroots forces for justice.

To Rajagopal, these aren’t utopian dreams—they’re blueprints for a possible world.

Over the decades, Ekta Parishad has secured land rights for nearly half a million families, trained over 10,000 grassroots leaders, protected forests and water bodies, and helped shape key land reform laws and policies in India.

All this has been achieved not through anger, but through disciplined, nonviolent marches that stretch across hundreds of kilometers. Along the way, many leaders have walked beside him—among them, the current Prime Minister of Armenia.

In an age marked by deep disorder—where wealth concentrates in few hands, poverty spreads, and the planet itself trembles under human greed—the 77-year-old Gandhian remains unshaken in his belief that peace alone can redeem humanity.

“We must rescue peace from the clutches of poverty and all its evils,” he told IPS on the sidelines of the International Civil Society Week, standing on the football ground of Bangkok’s Thammasat University.

“And it can be done,” he insists—and his life is proof. In 1969, the centenary year of Mahatma Gandhi’s birth, the Government of India launched a unique exhibition on wheels, a ten-coach train carrying Gandhi’s life and message across the nation. Rajagopal was part of the team that curated and travelled with it.

“For an entire year, we journeyed from state to state. Thousands of schoolchildren would gather at railway platforms, their faces lit with curiosity, waiting to meet Gandhi through our displays,” he recalls.

Yet somewhere along those long railway tracks, Rajagopal began to feel that displaying Gandhi’s ideals wasn’t enough. “The exhibition was beautiful,” he says, “but what was the use of preaching non-violence if we couldn’t live it, breathe it, and bring it to life?”

That realization led him to one of the most daring experiments in peacebuilding India had ever seen—negotiating with the feared bandits of the Chambal valley. “It was 1970,” he recalls. “We moved cautiously, first meeting villagers on the periphery to build trust. Once we had their confidence, we sent word to the dacoits: we wanted to talk. With the government’s consent, we ventured into what we called a ‘peace zone’—often by night, walking for hours through deep ravines—to meet men the world only knew as outlaws.”

The dialogues continued for four years. Eventually, as many as 570 bandits laid down their arms before a photograph of Mahatma Gandhi—a sight India had never seen before. The government, in turn, promised they would not face the death penalty and would receive land and livestock to rebuild their lives. Rehabilitation took another four painstaking years, but it was a victory of conscience over fear.

“They didn’t just surrender their weapons—they surrendered their anger,” Rajagopal says quietly. “There was real repentance, and that takes time—but it lasts.” His commitment came at a cost. At his ashram—a spiritual retreat he had founded—he was threatened, beaten, and ordered to abandon his peace efforts. He talked them through to accepting his presence.

“Today that same region is heaven,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with memory. “Fifty years ago, people trembled at sunset—terrified of the bandits. Today, you can travel at 2:00 pm in the night, where fear ruled once.”

The mass surrender may have looked like a triumph for the state, but Rajagopal urges people to look deeper. “It’s the invisible violence—poverty, injustice, and oppression—that breeds the visible one: dacoities, kidnappings, and killings,” he explains.

Though Rajagopal and his companions had ended one form of violence, the deeper, quieter kind—born of poverty and neglect—still festered. Until that was confronted, he knew, peace would remain incomplete.

Years of working alongside the poor had taught him one truth: non-violence needs structure. If India’s Indigenous and landless communities were to be heard, they had to be organized.

“We began training young people from dozens of villages,” he says. “They went door to door, teaching others not only about their rights—especially the right to land—but also how to claim them peacefully.”

With that foundation, a five-year plan took shape. Each village home chose one member to take part. Every day, the family set aside one rupee and a fistful of rice—a humble but powerful act of commitment.

They even created a “playbook” of possible scenarios—how to stay calm under provocation, how to respond to setbacks, and how to practice non-violence in thought and action. “In one of our marches, a truck ran over three of our people, killing them,” he recalls softly. “There was grief, but no retaliation. Instead, they sat in silence and meditated. That was our true test.”

In 2006, 500 marchers walked 350 kilometers from Gwalior to Delhi, demanding land rights. Nothing changed. But they didn’t stop.

A year later, in 2007, 25,000 people—many barefoot—set out again on the national highway. “Imagine that sight,” Rajagopal says, eyes gleaming. “Twenty-five thousand people walking for a month, powered only by hope.”

The march displayed not just India’s poverty but also its power—the quiet power of the poor united. It was among the most disciplined mobilizations the country had ever seen. “There was one leader for every hundred people,” Rajagopal explains. “We walked by day and slept on the highway by night. Those in charge of cooking went ahead each morning so that by sundown, a single meal was ready for all.”

In a later march, Rajagopal recalls, the government sent a large police force. “I was worried,” he admits. “I called the authorities to tell them this was a non-violent protest—we didn’t need protection. The officer replied, ‘They’re not there for you; they’re here to learn how disciplined movements should be.’”

Along the route, villages greeted them like family—offering bags of rice, water, and prayers. “There was never a shortage of food,” Rajagopal smiles. “When your cause is just, the world feeds you.”

By the time the march reached Delhi, the government announced a new land reform policy and housing rights and agreed to enact the Forest Rights Act.

The government dispersed the marchers with hollow promises and the reforms never happened.

So Ekta Parishad planned an even larger march—a Jan Satyagraha of 100,000 people in 2012.

“Halfway through, the government came running.”

Rajagopal’s face lights up as he recalls the event. “They agreed to our ten-point agenda and signed it in front of the people. That moment was historic—governments almost never do that; the Indian government certainly never does it!”

The agreement included land and housing rights, a national task force on land reform, the prime minister’s oversight of policy implementation, and fast-track courts to resolve land disputes.

Today, because of these long, barefoot marches, more than three million Indigenous people in India now have legal rights to land and housing. The struggle also gave birth to India’s Land Acquisition, Rehabilitation, and Resettlement Act—a landmark in people’s movements.

“The Act also safeguards fertile land,” Rajagopal explains. “Before the government can acquire any area, a social impact study must be done. And if farmland is taken, the owners receive four times its value in compensation.”

“The purpose of our marches,” Rajagopal says, “is not to fight the government, but to win it over. The government is not the enemy; injustice is. We must stand on the same side of the problem.”

For Rajagopal, peace is not a sentiment but a system—something that must be built, brick by brick, through dialogue and respect. “Non-violence,” he says, “isn’t passive. It’s active patience—listening, accepting differences, never policing thought.” The same principle, he believes, can heal families, neighborhoods, nations—and the world itself.

His next mission is to create a Youth Peace Force, ready to enter conflict zones and resolve disputes through dialogue. He has also launched the Peace Builders Forum, or Peace7, uniting seven countries—South Africa, Japan, Costa Rica, Switzerland, Canada, India, and Armenia. His dream is to expand it to Peace20, where, as he smiles, “wealth will never be a criterion for membership.”

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Amitabh Behar speaks to IPS at ICSW2025 in Bangkok, Thailand. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 2 2025 (IPS)

Speaking to IPS on the sidelines of the International Civil Society Week in Bangkok (November 1–5), Amitabh Behar, Executive Director of Oxfam International and a passionate human rights advocate, highlighted his concerns about rising inequality, growing authoritarianism, and the misuse of AI and surveillance. Yet, he expressed optimism that, even as civic spaces shrink, young people across Asia are driving meaningful change. He also shared his vision of a just society—one where power is shared, and grassroots movements lead the way.

Excerpts from the interview:

IPS: What does civil society (CS) mean to you personally in today’s global context?

Behar: In an age of grotesque and rising global inequality, civil society is ordinary people challenging elites and the governments that are elected to serve them. It’s the engine that keeps democracy from being just a mere formality that happens at a ballot box every four years.

IPS: What was the role of CS society in the past? How has it evolved? How do you see it in the next decade?

Behar: During Asia’s economic miracle, governments invested in public services while civil society worked alongside unions to defend workers’ rights and speak up for communities. Today, with austerity and rising authoritarianism around the world, civil society is stepping in where governments should be but are currently failing. It runs food banks, builds local support networks, and defends citizens and workers even as basic freedoms and the right to protest are increasingly under attack.

IPS: What do you see as the greatest challenge facing CS today?

Behar: A tiny elite not only controls politics, media, and resources but also dominates decisions in capitals around the world and rigs economic policies in their favor. Rising inequality, debt crises, and climate disasters make survival even harder for ordinary people, while repressive governments actively silence their voices.

IPS: What’s the most significant challenge activists face when it comes to democracy, human rights or inclusion? 

Behar: Authoritarian governments crush dissent and protests with laws, surveillance, and intimidation. AI and digital tools are now being weaponized to track and target and illegally detain protestors, deepen inequality, and accelerate climate breakdown, all while activists risk everything to defend democracy and human rights.

IPS: How can civil society remain resilient in the face of shrinking civic spaces or restrictive laws?

Behar: From protests in Kathmandu to Jakarta, from Dili to Manila, one encouraging theme is emerging: the courage, inspiration, and defiance of young people. Gen Z-led movements, community networks, and grassroots campaigns are winning real change, raising wages, defending workers’ rights, improving services, and forcing action on climate disasters. Despite the immense odds, we will not be silenced. This is our Arab Spring.

IPS: Can you give examples from recent days that indicate that the work of CS is making a difference? Has the outcome been (good or bad) surprising?

Behar: In cities across Asia, Gen Z-led protests are winning higher wages, defending workers’ rights, and forcing local authorities to respond to youth unemployment and climate threats.

IPS: In your experience, what makes partnerships between civil society actors most effective?

Behar: Partnerships work when civil society groups trust each other and put the people most affected at the center. When local networks, youth groups, and volunteers coordinate around community leadership, as in cyclone responses in Bangladesh, for example, decisions are faster, resources reach the right people, and the work actually makes a difference.

IPS: How can civil society collaborate with the government and the private sector without losing its independence?

Behar: Civil society can work with governments and businesses strategically when it genuinely strengthens people’s rights rather than erodes them. But the moment politicians or corporations try to co-opt, stage manage or greenwash their work, civil society can be compromised. Real change only happens when communities set the priorities, not politicians or CEOs.

IPS: What are the biggest strategic choices CSOs need to make now in this shrinking civic space or rising pushback?

Behar: When governments erode rights across the board, from reproductive freedom to climate action, to the right to protest, civil society can’t just stay on the back foot. It must fight strategically, defending civic space, backing grassroots movements, and focusing power, time, and resources where they matter most. The core struggle is inequality, the root of nearly every form of injustice. Striking at it directly is the most strategic way to advance justice across the board.

IPS: In your view, what kinds of alliances (across sectors or geographies) matter most for expanding citizen action in the coming years?

Behar: The alliances that matter are the ones that actually shift power and resources away from the elites. Young people, women, Indigenous communities, and workers linking across countries show governments and corporations they can’t ignore them. When those on the frontlines connect with the wider world, people’s movements stop being small and start changing the rules for everyone.

IPS: How can the marginalized voices be genuinely included in collective action?

Behar: Marginalized voices aren’t there to tick a box or make up the numbers. At spaces like COP in Brazil this year, they should be calling the shots. Indigenous people, women, and frontline communities live through the consequences of rampant inequality every day in every way conceivable. It’s time we pull them up a chair at the table and let them drive the decisions that affect their lives.

IPS: Are emerging technologies or digital tools shaping the work of CS? How? Please mention both opportunities and risks.

Behar: Across Asia, Gen-Z activists are leading protests against inequality and youth unemployment, using digital tools to mobilize, amplify, and organize. But AI and intrusive surveillance now track every post and monitor every march, giving governments even greater powers to violently clamp down on civil society.

IPS: How do you balance optimism and realism when facing today’s social and political challenges?

Behar: I’m optimistic because I see ordinary people, especially young people, refusing to accept injustice. They’re striking, protesting, and building communities that protect each other. But we have to be realistic about the challenge, too. Obscene levels of inequality, worsening climate disasters, and repressive governments make change hard. Yet, time and again, when people rise together, they start to bend the rules in their favor and force the powerful to act.

IPS: What advice would you give to young activists entering this space?

Behar: Keep your fire but pace yourself. Fighting for justice is exhausting, and the challenges can feel endless. Look after your mental health, lean on your community, and celebrate the small wins that can keep you energized for the next challenge. The fight is long, and staying strong, rested, and connected is how you’ll keep on making a difference.

IPS: If you could summarize your vision for a just and inclusive society in one sentence, what would it be?

Behar: A just and inclusive society is one where the powerful can’t rig the rules, the most vulnerable set the agenda, and fairness runs through every policy.

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Secretary General of CIVICUS, Mandeep Tiwana, at International Civil Society Week 2025. Credit: Civicus

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 1 2025 (IPS)

It is a bleak global moment—with civil society actors battling assassinations, imprisonment, fabricated charges, and funding cuts to pro-democracy movements in a world gripped by inequality, climate chaos, and rising authoritarianism. Yet, the mood at Bangkok’s Thammasat University was anything but defeated.

Once the site of the 1976 massacre, where pro-democracy students were brutally crushed, the campus—a “hallowed ground” for civil society actors—echoed with renewed voices calling for defending democracy in what Secretary General of CIVICUS, Mandeep Tiwana, described as a “topsy-turvy world” with rising authoritarianism—a poignant reminder that even in places scarred by repression, the struggle for civic space endures.

“Let it resonate,” said Ichal Supriadi, Secretary General, Asian Democracy Network. “Democracy must be defended together,” adding that it was the “shared strength” that confronts authoritarianism.

Despite the hopeful spirit at Thammasat University, where the International Civil Society Week (ICSW) is underway, the conversations often turned to sobering realities. Dr. Gothom Arya of the Asian Cultural Forum on Development and the Peace and Culture Foundation reminded participants that civic freedoms are being curtailed across much of the world.

Citing alarming figures, he spoke bluntly of the global imbalance in priorities—noting how military expenditure continues to soar even as civic space shrinks. He pointedly referred to the United States’ Ministry of Defense as the “Ministry of War,” comparing its USD 968 billion military budget with China’s USD 3 billion and noting that spending on the war in Ukraine had increased tenfold in just three years—a stark illustration of global priorities. “This is where we are with respect to peace and war,” he said gloomily.

Ichal Supriadi, Secretary General, Asian Democracy Network. Credit: Civicus

At another session, similar reflections set the tone for a broader critique of global power dynamics. Walden Bello, a former senator and peace activist from the Philippines, argued that the United States—especially under the Trump administration—had abandoned even the pretense of a free-market system, replacing it with what he called “overt monopolistic hegemony.” American imperialism, he said, “graduated away from camouflage attempts and is now unapologetic in demanding that the world bend to its wishes.”

Dr. Gothom Arya of the Asian Cultural Forum on Development and the Peace and Culture Foundation. Credit: Civicus

Dr. Pervez Hoodbhoy, a Pakistani physicist and author, echoed the sentiment, expressing outrage at his own country’s leadership. He condemned Pakistan’s decision to nominate a “psychopath, habitual liar, and aggressive warmonger” for the Nobel Peace Prize, saying that the leadership had “no right to barter away minerals and rare earth materials to an American dictator” without public consent.

Hoodbhoy urged the international community to intervene and restart peace talks between Pakistan and India—two nuclear-armed neighbors perpetually teetering on the edge of renewed conflict.

But at no point during the day did the focus shift away from the ongoing humanitarian crises. Arya reminded the audience of the tragic loss of civilian lives in Gaza, the devastating fighting in Sudan that had led to widespread malnutrition, and the global inequality worsened by climate inaction. “Because some big countries refused to follow the Paris Agreement ten years ago,” he warned, “the rest of the world will suffer the consequences.”

That grim reality was brought into even sharper relief by Dr. Mustafa Barghouthi, a Palestinian physician and politician, who delivered a harrowing account of Gaza’s devastation. He said that through the use of  American-supplied weapons, Israel had killed an estimated 12 percent of Gaza’s population, destroyed every hospital and university, and left nearly 10,000 bodies buried beneath the rubble.

“Even as these crises unfolded across the world, the conference demonstrated that civil society continues to persevere, as nearly 1,000 people from more than 75 organizations overcame travel bans and visa hurdles to gather at Thammasat University, sharing strategies, solidarity, and hope through over 120 sessions.

Among them was a delegation whose presence carried the weight of an entire nation’s silenced hopes—Hamrah, believed to be the only Afghan civil society group at ICSW.

“Our participation is important at a time when much of the world has turned its gaze away from Afghanistan,” Timor Sharan, co-founder and programme director of the HAMRAH Initiative, told IPS.

“It is vital to remind the global community that Afghan civil society has not disappeared; it’s fighting and holding the line.”

Through networks like HAMRAH, he said, activists, educators, and defenders have continued secret and online schools, documented abuses, and amplified those silenced under the Taliban rule. “Our presence here is both a statement of resilience and a call for solidarity.”

“Visibility matters,” pointed out Riska Carolina, an Indonesian woman and LGBTIQ+ rights advocate working with ASEAN SOGIE Caucus (ASC). “What’s even more powerful is being visible together.”

“It was special because it brought together movements—Dalit, Indigenous, feminist, disability, and queer—that rarely share the same space, creating room for intersectional democracy to take shape,” said Carolina, whose work focuses on regional advocacy for LGBTQIA+ rights within Southeast Asia’s political and human rights frameworks, especially the ASEAN system, which she said has historically been “slow to recognize issues of sexuality and gender diversity.”

“We work to make sure that SOGIESC (Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression, and Sex Characteristics) inclusion is not just seen as a niche issue, but as a core part of democracy, governance, and human rights. That means engaging governments, civil society, and regional bodies to ensure queer people’s participation, safety, and dignity is part of how we measure democratic progress.”

She said the ICSW provided ASC with a chance to make “visible” the connection between civic space, democracy, and queer liberation and to remind people that democracy is not only about elections but also about “who is able to live freely and who remains silenced by law or stigma.”

Away from the main sessions, civil society leaders gathered for a candid huddle—part reflection, part reckoning—to examine their role in an era when their space to act was shrinking.

“The dialogue surfaced some tough but necessary questions,” he said. They asked themselves: ‘Have we grasped the full scale of the challenges we face?’ ‘Are our responses strong enough?’ ‘Are we expecting anti-rights forces to respect our rules and values?’ ‘Are we reacting instead of setting the agenda? And are we allies—or accomplices—of those risking everything for justice?’

But if there was one thing crystal clear to everyone present, it was that civil society must stand united, not fragmented, to defend democracy.

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Rescuers carry children away from their flood-devastated village in the Buner region in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) province. The region Credit: Al Khidmat Foundation

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Aug 20 2025 (IPS)

Intense rainfall over small areas in Pakistan’s mountainous regions caused massive destruction, sweeping away entire villages.

On August 15, the district of Buner in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) province experienced a weather anomaly in which glacier melt and intense monsoon rains caused floods that buried villages under mud and rock.

“I’ll never forget what we saw as we crested the last hill—no life, no homes, no trees—just grey sludge and massive boulders,” recalled Amjad Ali, a 31-year-old rescuer from Al-Khidmat Foundation, the charitable arm of the Islamist political party Jamaat-e-Islami, and the first to reach the village of Bishonai, 90 percent of which had been washed away.

It took Ali and his team of 15 volunteers, including two paramedics, four hours to reach the once-forested village—now buried under mud and rock.

Since June, northern valleys across Gilgit-Baltistan, Kashmir, and KP have faced repeated climate disasters. Between June 26 and August 19, the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) reported over 695 deaths—53 percent from flash floods, 31 percent from house collapses, and nearly 8 percent from drowning.

Villagers, including women and children, led to safety. Credit: Al Khidmat Foundation

More Extreme Weather is Expected

“The weather is on a rampage—it’s not going to improve,” warned Sahibzad Khan, Director General of the Pakistan Meteorological Department.

He explained that delayed and reduced snowfall until March left little time for accumulation of snow.

“Temperatures rose steadily from April, with northern regions seeing a 7°–9°C spike in August,” he said.

Khan cautioned against labeling the recent events as “cloudbursts,” noting that these typically involve over 100 mm of rain in an hour. For him, what stood out in Buner was the unusual collapse of massive boulders—a sign of glacial disintegration.

“This was inevitable,” said Khan. “Rising temperatures are wreaking havoc on glaciers. Huge boulders falling from the mountains suggest ancient glaciers are breaking apart.”

He warned that warming of the Third Pole (mountainous region located in the west and south of the Tibetan Plateau) could lead to loss of the ice towers—the lifeline of the Indus Basin.

As scientists warned of long-term consequences, communities on the ground are grappling with the immediate aftermath.

Rescue workers pray during evacuation and rescue operations in the district of Buner, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) province, Pakistan. Al Khidmat Foundation

Rescue trucks line up to enter the district of Buner, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) province, Pakistan devastated by floods. Al Khidmat Foundation

Rescuer’s Tale

“People were in a state of shock but from what little we learned, it had been raining gently all through Thursday night (Aug 14). Then around 8:30 am on Friday (Aug 15), a ferocious torrent swept through, destroying everything in its path,” said rescuer Ali, speaking from Sawari Bazar, 30-minutes from Bishonai village.

Every survivor shared the same story—it struck suddenly, leaving no time to save anyone.

“I pulled a man from the sludge with a broken leg and one eye missing,” said Ali. “He was the sole survivor of 14 family members. Their three storey home was gone.”

He adds, “Everyone who survived had a dozen or so family members missing that day.”

Though he had led rescue teams for five years, Ali said he had never witnessed such horror. It wasn’t the eight-hour trek to and from Bishonai that drained them, but the emotional toll of retrieving bodies and injured survivors buried in the sludge.

With help from over 100 volunteers, they were able to bury over 200 men, women and children – some headless, others with limbs missing. Over 470 missing villagers were presumed dead. They returned home at 2 am, but the work was far from over.

The official death toll across Pakistan stands at 695: 425 in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, 164 in Punjab, 32 in G-B, 29 in Sindh, 22 in Balochistan, 15 in Kashmir and 8 in Islamabad—and the number continues to rise.

Nearly 958 injuries have been recorded until Aug 19 by the NDMA with 582 in Punjab, 267 in KP, 40 in Sindh, 37 in Gilgit-Baltistan, 24 in Kashmir, 5 in Balochistan and 3 in Islamabad.

Official figures report 17,917 people rescued—over 14,000 from KP alone.

The floods damaged 451 km of roads, 152 bridges, and 2,707 homes—833 completely destroyed—mostly in KP and G-B. Floods also claimed 1,023 livestock, with KP the worst hit.

The KP government has released PKR 800 million in relief funds for the affected districts and an additional PKR 500 million for Buner, the worst-hit area.

Gilgit-Baltistan in Ruins

Gilgit-Baltistan, like KP, is reeling from similar climate disaster of flash floods

“Not a single part of G-B has been spared,” said Khadim Hussain, head of the region’s Environmental Protection Agency. He reported widespread destruction of farmland, homes, hotels, restaurants, and entire riverbank hamlets. Several villages remain cut off due to collapsed bridges and face critical drinking water shortages.

The situation turns critical when the Karakoram Highway—G-B’s link to the rest of the country—is blocked. “It’s been flooded multiple times in just 10 days,” he said. Glacier collapse and district-wide floods submerged sections, stranding travelers for up to 12 hours.

Essential services have also collapsed. Gilgit, the region’s capital, has had no electricity for three days. “The main hydropower station is severely damaged; smaller micro-hydro units were washed away,” added Hussain. Communication networks are also down.

Rescue workers in a house wrecked by floods in the district of Buner, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) province, Pakistan. The water rages below them. Credit: Al Khidmat Foundation

Cloudburst Crises

Hamid Mir, coordinator with WWF Pakistan, who has been studying weather patterns for over a decade, explained that warmer air holds more moisture.

“With every 1°C rise in temperature, air holds 7 percent more water vapor, increasing rainfall intensity.”

Rapid glacier melt adds humidity to local microclimates, feeding convective clouds, which are responsible for short, intense rainfall events, including cloudbursts, he said.

“What we are seeing is just the tip of the iceberg!” warned Mir, explaining that G-B’s steep terrain accelerates condensation and torrential downpours

A weather map for August 15 shows the cloud cover. Credit: National Emergency Operation Centre

Pakistan’s Climate Wake-Up Call

Mir also pointed to deforestation as a major factor. Native pine and oak trees at high altitudes have been replaced with moisture-releasing broadleaf species, altering weather patterns. Northern Pakistan holds 45 percent of the country’s forests and 60 percent of its coniferous cover, but deforestation has reduced natural carbon and moisture sinks.

“If we can put an end to the timber mafia stripping our mountain slopes, there’s still hope,” said PMD’s Khan.

Babajan, president of the Awami Workers Party’s G-B chapter, said illegal timber trade continued with “tacit support from government and security agencies.” He urged regional climate action: promoting electric vehicles, reducing fossil fuel use, and rethinking environmentally harmful construction practices.

He also blamed excessive mining and mountain blasting for resource depletion. “These are finite resources—we must take only what we truly need.”

Mir supported Babajan’s concerns, citing Buner’s transformation: once known for its stream fish, it now lacks clean drinking water due to marble industry expansion. “It’s a stark example of how ruthless development and unchecked industrialization can destroy once-pristine landscapes,” he said.

Absence of Local Leadership

Dr. Ghulam Rasul, former Director General of the PMD, emphasized the urgent need for improved early warning systems, stronger district-level disaster management, and greater community awareness around climate disasters, drawing on not just regional but global best practices.

“We urgently need an elected and functioning local government in place, which was dismantled two decades ago,” said 60-year-old Safiullah Baig, a member of the Progressive Gilgit Baltistan, a popular progressive social media page on G-B, which raises common people’s issues, human rights violations, and gender discrimination, as well as matters related to colonial governance, climate change and land capture.

“The bureaucrats ruling us are not from here, don’t understand our geography or culture, and have no empathy,” he said.

“As always, the floods will once again give them a perfect opportunity to profit—appealing for funds locally and internationally by showcasing our suffering,” he said. “The aid rarely reaches those who need it the most.”

With events such as cloudbursts and their increased intensities, Sobia Kapadia, a climate resilience expert, said it was unfair to put the blame on climate alone.

“From siloed development strategies to weak management, lapses in governance, myopic vision, and persistent corruption are intensifying the fragility,” she said, speaking to IPS over the phone from London.

Kapadia, who has worked extensively in Pakistan post-2010 ‘super’ floods, said the land-use management plans were ignoring the health of ecosystems, and large-scale infrastructure projects were leaving the most at-risk vulnerable communities dangerously exposed.

These events highlight an urgent opportunity to transform crisis into resilience, she said, giving “us a chance to safeguard our future” against increasingly intense climate shocks.

Endorsing Kapadia, EPA-GB’s Hussain said the toughest yet most crucial decision for the provincial governments is to remove encroachments along the rivers. “Illegally built structures must be dismantled to allow floodwaters a natural path and protect lives and property,” he said, stressing the need for coordinated multi-agency action and, above all, a strong political will.

“The solution goes beyond technical fixes; Pakistan needs deep systemic change and transformative adaptation to effectively confront these growing climate crises and termed it a whole-of-society approach integrating policy reforms, cross-sectoral collaboration and locally led adaptation, rooted in the context of indigenous knowledge,” agreed Kapdia.

Babajan agreed the crisis is man-made and fixable. “We must focus on prevention—finding local solutions before the damage occurs. We must draw on the wisdom and technologies of our elders to build resilience.”

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From beautiful bride, to victim of marital rape, this is the story of Shanti, a 19-year-old whose husband has been charged under the Domestic Violence (Prevention and Protection) Act of 2013.

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Jul 30 2025 (IPS)

“The last thing she asked for was a sip of water,” recalled Najma Maheshwari, referring to 19-year-old Shanti, a newlywed who died last week after brutal sexual violence allegedly inflicted by her husband, who is now in custody.

“Then she closed her eyes and never opened them again,” she said quietly, her voice steeped in sadness.

Najma, a social activist from Shanti’s neighborhood, accompanied her brother Sayon to the government-run Shaheed Benazir Bhutto Trauma Centre. “Her insides were torn, she was bleeding profusely from her anus and writhing in pain. Hospital visitors urged us to move the gurney outside, complaining the stench was unbearable.

“While cleaning her, medics removed worms from her gut—her injuries were that severe. I’ve seen much in my work, but never such horror or pain,” Najma told IPS by phone from her home in Lyari, an informal settlement in Karachi.

Najma Maheshwari, the social activist who was with Shanti when she died.

After two weeks at the hospital and a day trip to attend Shanti’s funeral in her village, 38-year-old Najma—mother of four—was deeply shaken. “I can’t eat, and the indescribable stench still haunts me,” she said.

According to the complaint lodged by Sayon with the police, Shanti’s husband, Ashok Mohan, had “inserted a metal pipe” followed by his “hand and arm” in her anus two days after her marriage. Not content, he bit her on her breasts and neck and threatened to kill her if she disclosed the act to anyone.

“They were engaged for two years before we married her off; she was very happy during the celebrations,” recalled Sonya, Shanti’s sister-in-law, adding the groom, 25, lived just a few lanes away and seemed like a good match.

The sexual violence, just three days after her marriage, led Shanti to bleed heavily from the anus. When the bleeding wouldn’t stop, her in-laws took her to two health facilities, but when the doctors gave up, they brought her home.

“We went to see her… she lay motionless, and her mother-in-law claimed it was just diarrhea and her period, so we left, not realizing how serious it was,” said Sonya.

Two weeks later, as Shanti’s condition worsened, her in-laws called her brother. Seeing her state, he rushed her to the hospital—but it was too late.

“There was clear evidence of anal trauma caused by sexual violence,” confirmed Dr. Summaiya Sayed, Karachi’s chief police surgeon, saying Shanti was brought in “comatose” and placed on a ventilator. Her injuries worsened as she continued passing stool, leading to her death three weeks later.

“This is a clear-cut case of marital rape,” said Syeda Bushra, a lawyer at Karachi-based Legal Aid Society, which provides free legal aid. She has handled sexual violence cases for nearly a decade.

While no specific law currently defines marital rape, the Domestic Violence (Prevention and Protection) Act of 2013 holds husbands accountable as violators.

“Though the law may not explicitly mention marital rape, its broadened definition under Section 376 of the Pakistan Penal Code allows prosecution of husbands,” explained Bushra.

This marks a significant shift from Section 375 of the PPC, which previously exempted marital sex—an exemption removed in 2006 by the Protection of Women (Criminal Laws Amendment) Act.

Bushra described marital rape as “undeniably a form of domestic abuse” but noted it remains rarely reported. Many women choose divorce instead, as marital rape is still taboo and often not even recognized as such.

Government surveys reveal grim realities: the Pakistan Demographic and Health Survey (PDHS) reported that 47 percent of respondents in 2012–2013 considered wife-beating justifiable—a figure that only slightly declined to 43 percent by 2017–2018. The World Economic Forum’s 2023 data paints an even darker picture, showing that 85 percent of married women in Pakistan experience physical or sexual violence—far higher than Bangladesh’s 53 percent and India’s 29 percent.

Islamabad-based gender and governance expert Fauzia Yazdani highlights how religious texts and traditions are often deliberately misinterpreted to justify abuse. Supporting Yazdani’s view, lawyer Bushra notes that women brave enough to seek justice frequently face defense attorneys citing selective Quranic verses to defend their husbands. “It’s not just disturbing—it’s deeply problematic,” Bushra said.

While activists challenge these harmful narratives, legal experts push for accountability within the justice system.
“The cruelty of the act that led to Shanti’s death means her husband may face charges of both rape and murder, setting a vital precedent for criminalizing marital rape,” said Bahzad Akbar, a lawyer at the Legal Aid Society who has specialized in gender-based violence cases for four years.

In 2022, Akbar secured Sindh’s first-ever marital rape conviction, where the husband was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment and fined Rs 30,000 (USD 106) for sodomy. But it took two years for the verdict.

Najma (center), Sonya (wearing yellow on Najma’s left), and their brother (on Najma’s right) were sitting on the pavement outside the trauma center where Shanti was fighting for her life. Credit: Seema Maheshwari

Today, with the 2021 Anti-Rape Act having established special courts, Akbar is hopeful for a swift trial and justice in Shanti’s case.

“Shanti’s case will be a test for society,” he said, “Offering hope to women enduring sexual abuse in marriage that justice is possible.”

Tragically, Shanti’s case did not spark widespread outrage.

“That’s because she was a woman, and in this society, women are seen as disposable,” explained Yazdani.

According to her, gender-based violence is rarely recognized as a crime in Pakistan’s collective mindset, which is why it remains inadequately addressed within institutions.

“There’s still no official definition for misogyny and patriarchy; there are no local terms capture these concepts,” she said, holding the government, the judiciary, the police, the country’s opinion makers, and even independent oversight bodies responsible for failing the Pakistani women “over and over again.”

This disconnect between societal attitudes and institutional responses, she argued, creates a void that even robust laws struggle to bridge.

Legal experts acknowledge that while Pakistan has strong laws protecting women, enforcement remains weak.

“When laws are made in a social vacuum, what do you expect; they will remain ineffective,” observed Yazdani.

That disconnect between law and lived reality is starkly visible in the experiences shared by healthcare professionals.

“I meet smart, accomplished women who still believe they have no right to refuse their husbands. Many see sex without consent as their marital duty,” said Dr. Azra Ahsan, a senior gynecologist and obstetrician based in Karachi.

After years of hearing young, married women quietly confide their pain—often long after the damage was done—Dr. Ahsan became convinced that sexual and reproductive health (SRH) education is crucial to raising awareness about reproductive health, including marital rape.

To fill this gap, she and a group of like-minded doctors at the Association for Mothers and Newborns (AMAN)*—the implementation arm of Pakistan’s National Committee for Maternal and Neonatal Health—developed Bakhabar Noujawan (Informed Youth), an online SRH program endorsed by the Ministry of National Health Services, Regulations and Coordination, launched in 2023.

“We’re trying to introduce it in colleges, but convincing faculty is an uphill battle—they first need to grasp the course’s importance,” she said.

Covering over two dozen culturally sensitive topics—from premarital counselling, child and cousin marriage, domestic violence, STIs, to teenage pregnancy—the programme doesn’t shy away from tough conversations. “We’re now developing a module on marital rape,” says Ahsan, head of AMAN. “The first draft is nearly complete.”

Alongside SRH education, Sayed emphasized the need for mental health and emotional wellness programs.

“Too many young people carry the trauma of childhood sexual abuse,” she said. “As they grow, that buried pain can manifest in troubling ways—some develop sadistic or masochistic behaviors, especially when exposed to unchecked pornography. It doesn’t heal them; it deepens the harm.”

Lawyer Akbar, who has handled nearly two dozen child sexual abuse cases over the past four years, said 70% involved incest. At Karachi’s three medicolegal centers, Sayed reports 4–8 sexual violence cases daily, yet only three alleged marital rape cases were recorded in 2024—underscoring severe underreporting.

Experts say this silence stems from deeply entrenched norms conditioning women to endure abuse rather than speak out.

“Even today, parents tell their daughters at marriage, ‘Your husband’s home is your final home—you should only leave it in death’,” said Yazdani, adding that Pakistani society remains bound by social mores that consistently deny women their rights. “She is compartmentalized and viewed only through the lens of relationships, her duty simply to obey the men around her—father, brother, husband, even her son.”

* The writer serves on the executive committee of this nonprofit in a voluntary capacity but had no part in the development of the SRH course.

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This illustration shows that the built-up area of Luxus Hotel in Hunza sits close to the 50-foot minimum setback from the lake mandated by the Environmental Protection Agency. It also appears that land has been reclaimed, and an embankment constructed along the lakeshore beside the hotel.

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Jul 17 2025 (IPS)

“It started with a thunderous roar in the distance, followed by the clatter of rocks grinding together,” said Mohammad Hussain, 26, a student, who witnessed the flash flood that hit the lakeside of Attabad on June 25, around 12:30 pm, in the mountainous Hunza Valley, a popular tourist spot in the northern part of Pakistan’s Gilgit-Baltistan (G-B).

Standing atop the Moon Bridge, he saw a muddy slush surging at high speed; the sloshing sound came with dull thuds as boulders slammed into the earth. “I was both scared and awestruck,” he told IPS over the phone from Hunza.

The valley had been experiencing unusually high temperatures that week. “We’re mountain folks—we can bear the cold, but not such intense heat,” he said.

Such erratic weather patterns reflect a broader trend.

A 2024 study shows that the fragile mountain ecosystem of G-B is severely affected by extreme weather and climate-related hazards like floods, avalanches, landslides, and glacier lake outburst floods (GLOFs). With 50 percent of the 72,971 km² land considered cultivable, the predominantly agrarian community uses just 2% to farm on small plots averaging  0.4 hectares per household. Reduced snowfall has led to water shortages and reduced grazing ground, increasing food insecurity in the region.

Experts warn that no construction should ever be carried out in a natural drainage path or catchment outlet. While these areas may appear stable for decades, a sudden intense flood can lead to devastating consequences. High-risk zones include ravines and low-lying veins that channel rain and meltwater.

Khadim Hussain, director of Gilgit-Baltistan’s Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), explained that the heatwave had caused rapid snowmelt in the mountains, swelling the Burundubar stream and triggering a flash flood.

The resulting sludge flowed into Attabad Lake—a lake formed in 2010 when a massive landslide dammed the Hunza River, submerging Ainabad village and partially submerging Gulmit and Shishkat.

“The sludge engulfed the Luxus Hotel from both sides, cutting off access and trapping tourists and staff,” said Zubair Ahmed Khan, assistant director at the Gilgit-Baltistan Disaster Management Authority for Hunza and Nagar, two high-risk disaster-prone districts of G-B.

He has been provided with an excavator and its operator, but the authority had to seek help from boatmen operating in the lake to rescue about 150 stranded people in time from inside the hotel, he told IPS.

Since the hotel began operating seven years ago, the Burundubar stream has flooded only three times—”twice this year,” informed Khan, adding, “The future remains uncertain.”

The experts already foresee the situation worsening.

“As the climate changes, the frequency and intensity of floods in Burundubar have increased, leading to the accumulation of debris in the flood path. This has significantly raised the risk to surrounding infrastructure,” said Shazia Parveen, an environmentalist from Hunza.

Google Earth photos of Luxus Hunza Attabad Lake Resort over time.

She warned that the area, being in a high-risk flood zone, risks losing existing infrastructure and must be declared an Ecologically Sensitive and Critical Area (ESCA) under Gilgit-Baltistan’s 2023 rules.

A post-flood assessment report commissioned by the G-B government concluded that the Burundubar stream posed a “recurring risk of high-intensity flooding endangering the hotel structure, staff, and tourists”.

Vaqar Zakaria, head of the Islamabad-based environmental consulting firm Hagler Bailley Pakistan, said floodplain management laws exist but are rarely enforced.

“Our response is always reactive — panic after the damage, but never a plan to prevent it,” he said. While acknowledging worsening climate impacts, he argued that “90% of the damage is avoidable with proper planning and regulation”. This failure, he added, is why international donors often ignore Pakistan’s climate pleas: “We never admit to poor planning or the blatant disregard of our own laws.”

The consequences of such neglect are visible.

“The Luxus hotel sits in a flood path—it should never have been built,” said local activist Jameel Hunzographer, blaming the government. “The lake was once so clean you could drink from it—no longer.”

But not everyone shares his concern.

“It [the hotel] may be submerged,” admitted 60-year-old Dervaish Ali, “but it will never collapse.” Once a farmer from Ainabad, whose 16-acre orchard was swallowed by Attabad Lake, Ali later turned to construction—and was contracted to build the Luxus hotel. In 2017, he sold — 0.62 acres to the hotel’s owner and used the proceeds to build a home 25 km away, safely outside the hazard zone.

Firmly distancing himself from any blame, he said, “When I sold the land to the owner, he was fully aware of its precarious location, and I was not the only one; several others sold their land too, in the same area.” He acknowledged, however, that the increasing intensity of flash floods—driven by climate change—destroyed the 300 poplar trees he planted near the hotel, on his leftover land, just two years ago.

“Every last one gone,” he said quietly.

Yet, for many activists, this damage is part of a larger pattern of reckless development.

“These flash floods and disasters are of our own making,” said Baba Jan, 48, president of the Gilgit-Baltistan chapter of the left-wing Awami Workers Party. “We’ve turned the region into a concrete jungle and call it development.”

Jailed for ten years in 2011, he had protested “carving mountains, dumping waste into waterways, altering stream courses, and polluting our air—all in the name of tourism.”

Hunzographer also flagged the alarming rise in tree-cutting—clearing land for construction and chopping wood for fuel, due to the lack of electricity and gas.

Opened in 2019 on the shores of Attabad Lake, the Luxus hotel has recently come under sharp criticism from locals—not only for its unsustainable practices and careless approach to hospitality but also for its controversial location. Still, many residents were unwilling to speak on record, fearing reprisals from the hotel’s politically well-connected and influential owners.

President of the Sustainable Tourism Foundation, Aftab Rana, expressed disappointment with the Luxus and other hotels along the Attabad Lake, saying they had the potential to set a “benchmark for sustainable luxury” in the region. Instead, they have become a “symbol of environmentally damaging development”, placing both guests and staff directly in the path of climate-related hazards. He blamed the Environmental Protection Authority for failing to manage the lake’s tourism-related environmental impact.

He has a point. If not for a viral video last month by British vlogger George Buckley exposing the Luxus Hotel’s violations, the G-B government might have stayed asleep. But after the video gained traction, authorities acted—partially sealing the hotel and fining it for allegedly dumping wastewater into the lake, a charge the resort publicly denied. Yet, it paid the fine, effectively admitting guilt despite its claims. A post-flood assessment also cites the hotel’s repeated disregard for environmental warnings, confirming violations of environmental laws.

The G-B EPA has recommended a five-year ban on hotel construction and/or expansion in various parts of G-B, including Attabad, citing unregulated development and lack of wastewater treatment, which is harming public health and the ecosystem.

In addition, the deputy commissioner (the administrative head) of Hunza has taken an unconventional step – exercising the powers conferred on him under the law “in the interest of environmental protection, public health, ecological preservation, and sustainable tourism” has put a complete stop to “new construction or extension of any kind” by suspending issuance of no objection certificates in parts of Hunza, including the Attabad area.

However, the environmental damage extends beyond construction alone.

The constant roar of diesel generators from hotels and restaurants, the smoke-belching vehicles, motorised boats churning toxic fumes into the lake’s air, and the rising dust and noise from throngs of tourists—combined with heaps of plastic waste—are fuelling a growing love-hate relationship between locals and visitors.

“We’re exhausted by tourists, but we depend on them,” said 33-year-old Nur Baig, who runs a co-working space in Hunza. Tourism in Hunza surged after photos of the newly formed Attabad Lake went viral, but the government failed to plan for the influx. For instance, he points out that there are no footpaths, and speeding SUVs now threaten pedestrians, especially children, on the narrow streets.

“We either need a different breed of tourists, who are more respectful of nature and us, or we need to put a stop to tourism,” said Hunzographer.

But there is a deeper shift within the community itself, where economic pressures and changing aspirations have left local people struggling to maintain both their traditions and control over their land.

“The younger, educated generation has turned away from subsistence farming, with the more enterprising moving to urban centres for better livelihood opportunities,” admitted Baig, adding, “Those who stay have ideas but little capital, so outsiders come, cash in, and take our peace with them.”

But not all hope is lost. Amid these changes, some see a path forward—one where tourism benefits locals without costing them their way of life.

A local NGO, Karakoram Area Development Organisation (KADO), for instance, is pushing hotels to swap single-use plastic for reusable fabric bags—and selling them too.

“We carried out a study and found that although there was enough awareness about plastic waste among the locals, the waste jumped to 67 percent in peak tourist season in Hunza,” said Abbas Ali, who heads KADO.

“We’re doing our part,” he added, “But tourists must realise our waste systems are limited—this plastic ends up in our water. They need to share responsibility.”

Rana also believed luxury and sustainability can coexist. With young travellers demanding greener options while their stay is comfortable, governments across the globe are stepping up with stricter rules on energy, emissions, and waste.

In Pakistan, though, he said, “Customer pressure may be growing, but enforcement remains missing.” If hoteliers saw green practices as smart business, he said, they would realise measures like water-saving fixtures, dual-flush toilets, rainwater harvesting, energy-efficient lighting and more can cut costs significantly.

For its part, Rana’s STFP has developed sustainable mountain architecture guidelines, and the government’s Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation has come up with a hefty document on national minimum standards and guidelines for the tourism and hotel industry and shared it with different provincial governments.

“But neither the tourists nor the hotel industries are really interested in adopting standardised green certifications due to a lack of necessary enforcement by the concerned provincial government departments,” he lamented.

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Great Buddha Dordenma, a gigantic Shakyamuni Buddha statue in the mountains of Bhutan. While the country is lauded as the only carbon-negative country in the world, it’s vulnerable to climate change. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
THIMPU, Bhutan, Jun 18 2025 (IPS)

“I can’t get this anywhere else,” says Tshering Lhamo, a 29-year-old shopkeeper in Thimphu, as she gestures toward the clean Himalayan air outside her thangka shop. She once studied in Kuala Lumpur but came back to Bhutan for the peace—and the purity. Her friend, Kezan Jatsho, who has never left the country, adds, “I cherish the peace here,” even as many of their peers migrate abroad.

But the serenity they speak of is under threat.

Bhutan, a tiny Himalayan kingdom of 745,000 people—roughly the size of Switzerland—is lauded as the world’s first and only carbon-negative country. Forests cover over 72 percent of the land, and the constitution mandates that no less than 60 percent remain forested forever. Clean air, abundant water, and natural beauty define life here.

This environmental commitment is not new. Since 1972, Bhutan’s national philosophy of Gross National Happiness (GNH) has prioritized well-being over GDP, championing sustainability, cultural preservation, and equitable growth.

“Money can’t buy contentment,” says 33-year-old business graduate Kezan Jatsho, who dreams of opening a coffee shop one day. “I just need enough for food and clothes; too much money would be a burden, stealing my peace of mind.”

Yet Bhutan’s climate security is more precarious than it appears. The country’s location in the eastern Himalayas makes it especially vulnerable to the impacts of global warming. Glacial melt is accelerating. Flash floods and landslides have become more frequent. Hydropower infrastructure—one of Bhutan’s economic lifelines—is at risk.

“Bhutan remains disproportionately vulnerable to climate change, through no fault of its own,” says Karma Dupchu, director of the National Center for Hydrology and Meteorology. His agency warns that a temperature rise of up to 2.8°C by 2100 could trigger catastrophic glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs). Bhutan has over 560 glacial lakes, and in the past 70 years, 18 GLOF events have already caused loss of life and damage.

The Cost of Preparedness

Preparing for the future requires money Bhutan does not have. “The costs of adaptation and mitigation are extremely high,” says Finance Minister Lyonpo Lekey Dorji. The country’s National Adaptation Plan is projected to cost nearly USD 14 billion.

Despite limited resources, Bhutan is not standing still. Nearly 50,000 trained volunteers—known as desuups, or “Guardians of Peace”—can be mobilized during natural disasters. Even cabinet ministers and the Prime Minister serve as desuups. “They volunteered in Nepal’s 2015 earthquake,” the finance minister notes proudly.

But for long-term resilience, more investment is needed—in early warning systems, in climate-resilient agriculture, and in off-grid energy for the 4,000 rural families still lacking electricity. “The farmers lack the resources and capacity to address the challenges of climate change,” says Dupchu.

Tshering Lhamo, in her shop where she sells handmade paintings. Lhamo values the clean Himalayan air. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

Between Migration and Mindfulness

The climate crisis is only one part of the story. Bhutan is also confronting an “existential” demographic crisis, driven by a wave of outward migration. More than 12,000 people have left for Australia since the COVID-19 pandemic—many of them young, educated, and fluent in English.

“Today, 10 percent of the population has left,” says the finance minister. “Most are from the working-age group. In all, some 30,000 Bhutanese have migrated in the last two decades.”

To counter this brain drain, Bhutan’s Fifth King, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, has unveiled an ambitious solution: the Gelephu Mindfulness City (GMC), a futuristic economic zone grounded in Bhutanese values. “We realize that to achieve and to continue holding on to GNH, economic development is necessary,” acknowledged the finance minister.

“It’s a new Bhutan with different rules from the rest of the country and a new model of robust economic development,” says Rabsel Dorji, head of communications for the project. “It aims to attract and retain the working-age population by offering well-paid jobs, creating a place where development and wealth can co-exist alongside tradition and sacred values.”

The stakes are high. “If GMC succeeds,” Dorji says, “it can show the world that a city can be created without displacing nature or the people who already live there.”

And if it fails? Dorji just smiles: “Nothing the King does ever fails.”

Culture as a Climate Strategy

Even as Bhutan looks to modernize, its culture remains its most powerful form of resilience. In Thimphu, traffic lights have been rejected in favor of hand gestures from white-gloved police officers. Traditional dress—kira for women and gho for men—is not a costume but daily wear. Brightly colored prayer flags ripple in the mountain breeze. Sacred peaks are never climbed. “Nature is not something to be conquered, but something to be respected,” says Kinley Dorji, a journalist and editor of the Druk Journal. “We emphasize the preservation of our culture—architecture and the arts, spiritual values, and dress code—to be different and look different.”

When Bhutan transitioned to democracy in 2008 after a century of monarchy, it was by royal decree, not revolution. The literacy rate now exceeds 90 percent. Healthcare is free. And despite limited military or economic power, Bhutan’s spiritual and ecological identity remains a source of strength.

“In the absence of military might and economic strength… our unique identity is our strength,” says Kinley Dorji. “The average Bhutanese may not be widely traveled, but they know what matters. People were skeptical about democracy, as they thought it would bring corruption and violence.”

Hydropower and Hope

Nature does not only sustain Bhutan; it powers its economy. Hydroelectricity—mostly sold to India—generates 14 percent of GDP and more than a quarter of government revenue. In 2021, Bhutan produced nearly 11,000 GWh of power, exporting over 80 percent of it.

The country plans to harness an additional 20 GW of renewable energy by 2040, including 5 GW from solar. But even that will require external support. “We need huge investments for this to become a reality,” says the finance minister.

To make tourism more sustainable post-COVID, Bhutan reopened its borders with a revised Sustainable Development Fee—$100 per night for foreign tourists and just ₹1,200 (US$14) for Indian nationals.

Still, sacred sites remain off-limits. “The mountains are home of deities,” Kinley Dorji reminds. “They’re not meant to be conquered.”

A Global Story of Local Survival

In Bhutan, climate change is not a future threat—it’s a present reality. But it’s also a moral argument for global responsibility.

Unlike Greta Thunberg’s urgent call to action, Bhutanese youth aren’t protesting in the streets. Their quiet, inherited mindfulness—combined with progressive government policy—has embedded intergenerational climate justice into the national identity.

But without significant international investment, Bhutan’s future remains as fragile as its glacial lakes.

“I am full of desires for things,” says Tshering Lhamo, “but I also know if I go after them, it will destroy me.”

Bhutan stands at a crossroads between survival and sacrifice, tradition and transformation. Its model is not perfect—but it offers the world something rare: a vision of development that does not cost the Earth.

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Noor Mukadam at a protest outside the Islamabad Press Club, holding a poster demanding justice for a rape survivor. The photo was taken on September 12, 2020. She was murdered by her partner on 20 July 2021. Credit: Shafaq Zaidi

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Jun 4 2025 (IPS)

“It’s brought me some closure,” said Shafaq Zaidi, a school friend of Noor Mukadam, reacting to the Supreme Court’s May 20 verdict upholding both the life sentence and death penalty for Noor’s killer, Zahir Jaffer.

“Nothing can bring Noor back, but this decision offers a sense of justice—not just for her, but for every woman in Pakistan who’s been told her life doesn’t matter,” Zaidi told IPS over the phone from Islamabad. “It’s been a long and painful journey—four years of fighting through the sessions court, high court, and finally, the Supreme Court.”

Echoing a similar sentiment, rights activist Zohra Yusuf said, “It’s satisfying that the Supreme Court upheld the verdict,” but added that the crime’s brutality left little room for relief. “It was so horrific that one can’t even celebrate the judgment,” she said, referring to the “extreme” sadism Noor endured—tortured with a knuckleduster, raped, and beheaded with a sharp weapon on July 20, 2021.

Yusuf also pointed out that the “background” of those involved is what drew national attention.

Noor Mukadam, 27, was the daughter of a former ambassador, while Zahir Jaffer, 30, was a dual Pakistan-U.S. national from a wealthy and influential family. Her father and friends fought to keep the case in the public eye, refusing to let it fade into yet another forgotten statistic.

Still, the response has been muted—many, including Yusuf, oppose the death penalty.

The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan recorded at least 174 death sentences in 2024—a sharp rise from 102 in 2023—yet not a single execution was reportedly carried out. The last known hanging was in 2019, when Imran Ali was executed for the rape and murder of six-year-old Zainab Ansari.

However, Noor’s father, Shaukat Ali Mukadam, has repeatedly stated that the death sentence for Zahir Jaffer was “very necessary,” emphasizing, “This isn’t just about my daughter—it’s about all of Pakistan’s daughters,” referencing the countless acts of violence against women that go unpunished every day.

The HRCP’s 2024 annual report painted a grim picture of gender-based violence against women in Pakistan.

According to the National Police Bureau, at least 405 women were killed in so-called honor crimes. Domestic violence remained widespread, resulting in 1,641 murders and over 3,385 reports of physical assault within households.

Sexual violence showed no sign of slowing. Police records documented 4,175 reported rapes, 733 gang rapes, 24 cases of custodial sexual assault, and 117 incidents of incest-related abuse—a chilling reminder of the dangers women face in both public and private spaces. HRCP’s media monitoring also revealed that at least 13 transgender individuals experienced sexual violence—one was even killed by her family in the name of honor.

The digital space offered no refuge either. The Digital Rights Foundation recorded 3,121 cases of cyber-harassment, most reported by women in Punjab.

Justice Remains Elusive

But numbers alone can’t capture the brutality—or the deep-rooted disregard for women that drives it.

“We recently took a man to court and secured maintenance for twin baby girls,” said Haya Zahid, CEO of the Karachi-based Legal Aid Society (LAS). “The father divorced their young mother while she was still in the hospital—just because she gave birth to daughters.”

LAS offers free legal aid to those who can’t afford it, handling cases like rape, murder, acid attacks, forced and child marriages, and domestic violence.

Bassam Dhari, also from LAS, recalled Daya Bheel’s gruesome murder, which took place after Noor Mukadam’s but failed to stir national attention because it happened in a remote village in Sindh’s Sanghar district.

“She was skinned, her eyeballs removed, her breasts chopped off, and her head severed from her body,” said Dhari.

He said the postmortem report confirmed that she was neither raped nor sexually assaulted, and the attack did not appear to be driven by rage or revenge.

While Mukadam’s family may have found closure, justice remains elusive for thousands of Pakistani women.

“Noor Mukadam’s case is indeed a rare instance where justice was served,” said Syeda Bushra, another lawyer at the LAS.

“It’s not that there aren’t enough laws to protect women and children—far from it,” said Bushra. “There are plenty of laws, but what good are they if investigations are weak?” According to her, only a small percentage of women can seek redress. “Justice is denied or delayed every single day,” she added.

“The problem is that these laws are crafted in a social vacuum,” observed Fauzia Yazdani, a gender and governance expert with over 30 years of experience working with national governments, the UN, and bilateral development partners in Pakistan.

She acknowledged that although many progressive, women-friendly laws have been passed over the years, they’ve failed to resonate in a society resistant to change. “Laws are essential, but no amount of legislation can end violence against women if the societal mindset remains misogynistic, patriarchal, and permissive of such crimes,” she said.

Buying Justice Through Blood Money

At the same time, Dahri highlighted critical flaws in the justice system.

In Pakistan, where the death penalty remains legal under its Islamic status, such sentences can be overturned through the diyat (blood money) law, which allows perpetrators to buy forgiveness by compensating the victim’s family.

“In our country, money can buy anything,” said Dahri. “This blood money law is routinely abused by the rich and powerful to literally get away with murder.”

He stressed the urgent need to reform these laws. “Many families initially refuse compensation, but intense pressure and threats—especially against the poor—often force them to give in.”

In 2023, 10-year-old Fatima Furiro’s death might have gone unnoticed if two graphic videos—showing her writhing in pain, then collapsing—hadn’t gone viral. The resulting public outcry led to her body being exhumed. Her employer, a powerful feudal lord in Sindh’s Khairpur district, who appeared in the footage, was swiftly arrested.

He spent a year in prison before the case was closed, after Fatima’s impoverished family accepted blood money—despite forensic evidence confirming she had been raped, beaten, and tortured over time.

Shafaq Zaidi—Noor Mukadam’s school friend—stood outside the Islamabad Press Club on July 25, 2021, at the very spot where Noor had once protested. This time, Zaidi was seeking justice for Noor herself, who had been killed just days earlier, on July 20, 2021. Courtesy: Shafaq Zaidi

Law vs Prejudice

Alongside a flawed justice system, women must battle deep-rooted social taboos—amplified by relentless victim-blaming and shaming.

“In such an environment,” said Bushra, “it’s no surprise that many women, worn down by the long and exhausting process, eventually withdraw their complaints.”

“A woman’s trial begins long before she ever enters a courtroom,” said Dahri.

In Noor Mukadam’s case, the claim of a “live-in relationship”—real or fabricated—was used by the convict’s lawyer to downgrade his death sentence for rape to life imprisonment.

“A boy and girl living together is a misfortune for our society,” remarked Justice Hashim Kakar, who led the three-member bench hearing Mukadam’s case.

“Her reputation was sullied—even in death,” said Yazdani, adding that judges should refrain from moralizing and preaching.

“A judge’s verdict should rest solely on an impartial reading of the law,” said Bushra.

But as Dahri pointed out, few lawyers in Pakistan dare to say this openly. “Judges can take it personally,” he said, “and we risk facing repercussions in our very next case.”

According to Yazdani, even a few targeted reforms—like faster hearings, clearing case backlogs, setting up GBV and child protection courts, and training judges, lawyers, and police on the realities of misogyny and gender-based violence—could cut victim-blaming in half.

But she also offered a word of caution: reforms alone don’t guarantee empathy, which she called the cornerstone of real justice.

“Social change doesn’t happen overnight,” Yazdani said. “Anthropologically speaking, it takes five years for change to take root—and another ten for it to truly take hold.”

Gender balance matters in justice

Judicial gender inequality worsens the situation. Some experts argue that increasing the number of women judges and lawyers could lead to a more fair, dynamic, and empathetic justice system.

A 2024 report by the Law and Justice Commission of Pakistan (LJCP) reveals that women make up less than 20 percent of the country’s judges, lawyers, and judicial officers—an alarming gap in a nation of over 117 million women. Of the 126 judges in the superior judiciary, only seven are women—just 5.5 percent. In the Supreme Court, that number drops to two.

Meanwhile, the 26 judges of the apex court (including the chief justice) are burdened with a backlog of more than 56,000 cases—not all related to violence against women.

Bushra believes more women must be encouraged to enter the justice sector—particularly as prosecutors, police officers, and judges. “I’ve seen how distressed victims become when forced to repeat their ordeal to male officers—often multiple times,” she said.

But she emphasized that simply increasing the number of women won’t end victim-blaming or guarantee survivor-centric justice. “Everyone in the system—including women—must be genuinely gender-sensitized to overcome personal biases and deep-rooted stereotypes,” said Bushra.

Special Courts

In 2021, the government passed the Anti-Rape (Investigation and Trial) Act, leading to the formation of an anti-rape committee by the Ministry of Law and Justice to support victims, including setting up special courts nationwide. “Special investigation units with trained prosecutors now handle 77 percent of complaints, and 91 percent of cases go to special courts,” said Nida Aly of AGHS, a Lahore-based law firm offering free legal aid and part of the committee.

By 2022, Sindh had set up 382 such units. Aly noted that a survivor-centered, time-bound, and coordinated approach raised conviction rates from 3.5 percent to 5 percent. A national sex offenders registry, managed by police, was launched in 2024. In Punjab, all 36 districts now have crisis and protection centers offering legal and psychosocial support, though some face resource limitations.

Nearly five years after gender-based violence courts were established in Karachi, she sees a promising shift in how judges handle such cases. “Prosecutors now take time to prepare women complainants—something that never happened before,” she said.

However, she added, the number of such courts and sensitized judges remains a drop in the ocean compared to the overwhelming number of violence committed against women and such cases flooding the system across Sindh.

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This village is half in India and half in Pakistan. In Pakistan it is called Chilhana; on the Indian side, it's called Teetwal. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, May 8 2025 (IPS)

Just after the young couple arrived at Al-Sayyed Shabistan, a quaint guesthouse in Taobat, on April 30, soldiers showed up, urging them to leave—war, they warned, could break out any moment.

Yahya Shah, guest-house owner and head of Taobat’s hotel association, told IPS over the phone, “Tourist season just began, but for two weeks the village feels like a ghost town—everyone’s hit: shopkeepers, eateries, drivers.”

Just 2 km from the tense Line of Control (not a legally recognized international border, but a de facto border under control of the military on both sides between the Indian- and Pakistani-controlled parts of the former princely state of Jammu and Kashmir), Taobat sits where India’s Kishenganga river crosses into Pakistan—reborn as the Neelum.

Tensions spiked after a deadly April 22 attack in the Indian-administered Pahalgam by The Resistance Front, killing 26 people—25 Indians and one Nepali.

India blamed Pakistan for backing TRF, calling it a Lashkar-e-Taiba front. Pakistan denied involvement, urging an independent probe. Meanwhile, pressure mounted on the Indian prime minister, Narendra Modi, to respond forcefully, as the attackers remained at large two weeks later.

The question on everyone’s mind — including Michael Kugelman, a Washington, DC-based South Asia analyst — is, “How could such a horrific attack have been carried out on soft targets in one of the most heavily militarized regions in the world?”

Taobat is the last village of Neelum Valley and the place where the Kishenganga River enters Pakistani territory and is called the Neelum river. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

When India crossed the line

On May 7, early morning, the intensity of the animosity between the two since the Pahalgam attack took on a serious turn when India launched a full-fledged series of attacks on Pakistan and Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

India claimed it targeted “terrorist camps” in Pakistan, stating, “No Pakistani military facilities have been targeted.”

Pakistan’s armed forces have been authorized to take “corresponding actions” following the strikes, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s office said following the attack.

The Indian attack killed 26 civilians, injuring 46. In addition, the Pakistani army reported downing five Indian jets. In retaliatory attacks by Pakistani forces, at least 10 people have been killed in Indian-administered Kashmir.

Reuters, quoting the local government on the Indian side, admitted that three fighter jets crashed in Jammu and Kashmir hours after India announced it had struck “nine Pakistani terrorist infrastructure sites across the border.”

The international community has called for restraint, with the United States urging the two sides to “keep lines of communication open and avoid escalation” the United Kingdom offering “in dialogue, in de-escalation and anything we can do to support that, we are here and willing to do…” United Nations’ Secretary-General Antonio Guterres said the international community could not “afford a military confrontation” between the nuclear-armed nations.

Tensions between India and Pakistan ripple across South Asia.

“A tense situation between Pakistan and India is always a cause for worry for others in the region,” said Reaz Ahmad, Dhaka Tribune’s editor, with over 30 years of writing about South Asian politics. Bangladeshis only “want both nations to stop the blame game and tit-for-tat actions that only worsen life for ordinary people.” These unfortunate events, said Ahmed, referring to the war-like situation, show the “people deserve far better from their leaders.”

Daily life in Taobat Bala, about 1.5 km from Taobat. The area isn’t populated; people may work in the area but live in Taobat. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

Closed gates, broken pacts

Following the Pahalgam attack, India and Pakistan shut borders, halted visas, expelled visitors, and downgraded missions—familiar moves in past standoffs. But this time, India suspended the 1960 water treaty, prompting Pakistan to threaten withdrawal from the 1972 Simla Agreement.

Dr. Moonis Ahmar, former chairman of the department of international relations at Karachi University, blamed leaders of both countries for “misguiding their people” and polarizing them by spewing so much vitriol. “What was the point of bringing in the unnecessary “jugular vein” conversation out of the blue?

 The ‘jugular vein’ debate

Recently, Pakistan’s army chief of staff, General Asim Munir’s characterization of Kashmir as Pakistan’s jugular vein at a diaspora event held just days before the Pahalgam tragedy, was considered provocative and a “trigger” for the massacre.

“But that is what it is, and the general only reiterated the stand taken by the Quaid,” defended Khawaja Muhammad Asif, the country’s defense minister, referring to the country’s founder, Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

Defining the jugular vein, Asif said Kashmir stirred both deep emotions and economic concerns. Recalling the lesser-known massacre of the partition, he said, “Thousands of Muslims were massacred in the Jammu region by mobs and paramilitaries led by the army of Dogra ruler Hari Singh,” adding that Muslim villagers from Jammu province were forced to evacuate to West Pakistan and were then accommodated in refugee camps in the districts of Sialkot, Jhelum, Gujrat, and Rawalpindi.

Asif, a native of Sialkot, emphasized that the economic significance of Kashmir cannot be overstated. “Kashmir is our lifeline—all our rivers, including the Jhelum, Sutlej, and even the smaller tributaries flowing through my own hometown, originate there,” he said, acknowledging that India’s recent announcement to withdraw from the pact posed a “real threat.”

Village life in Taobat Bala before the escalation of violence. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

What is the root of conflict?

Over the years many historians from both sides have unraveled the historical, political, and emotional fault lines dividing India and Pakistan since 1947. But Kashmir remains the stumbling block, 78 years later.

“At the time of British India’s partition in August 1947, the 565 princely states were given the option to join India, Pakistan, or remain independent—provided their people had the right to decide.” Jammu and Kashmir, a Muslim-majority state ruled by a Hindu king, Maharaja Hari Singh, initially chose to remain independent.

After tribal militias from Pakistan invaded parts of Jammu and Kashmir in October 1947—reportedly with covert support from Pakistani forces and encouragement from some local Muslims—the situation quickly descended into chaos and violence. Facing the threat, Maharaja Hari Singh signed the Instrument of Accession, ceding the state’s sovereignty to India in exchange for military assistance.

The Indian government, led by then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, agreed to extend help but asked Hari Singh to sign an Instrument of Accession first. The Raja agreed. The documents conferred a special status on Jammu and Kashmir and allowed it to have its constitution, a flag, and control over internal administration, except in matters of defense, foreign affairs, finance, and communications, and were subsequently enshrined under Articles 370 and 35A of the Indian Constitution.

“These rules were not just legal provisions; they were a vital protection that ensured that no non-resident could purchase immovable property in the region, and this was done to safeguard the distinct identity, local ownership, and indigenous rights of the Kashmiri people,” explained Naila Altaf Kayani, an expert in Kashmir affairs, speaking to IPS from Muzaffarabad in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

But even before 2019, especially between 1952 and 1986, and through 47 presidential orders, the historical guarantees under the Maharaja’s Instrument of Accession had slowly been diluted and J&K’s special status steadily diminished. “India effectively dismantled the State Subject Rules that had long been in place in Jammu and Kashmir,” said Kayani.

In 2019, India finally scrapped these articles completely, and J&K became a union territory (governed directly by the central government, unlike states, which have their own elected governments with significant autonomy).

Can India and Pakistan ever make peace?

Both Asif and Ahmar doubt the Kashmir dispute will be resolved in their lifetime. And till that doesn’t happen, the thorn in their side will keep pricking. But what the latter finds befuddling is the “unstable and unpredictable” Pakistan-India relationship. “The two countries swing between total silence and sudden warmth, with no steady, consistent engagement like most nations maintain,” he said.

Ironically, it’s during the lowest points in their relationship that both Indian and Pakistani leaders stand to gain the most politically, said Kugelman. “Delhi can bolster its tough-on-terror stand and reputation as a strong and defiant administration by responding with muscle, and in Pakistan, the civilian and military leaderships, which are not terribly popular, can shore up public support by rallying the country around it in the face of an Indian threat.”

Forgotten formula or a new peace plan?

Ahmar said this is the lowest point in India-Pakistan relations he has ever witnessed.

However, “if by some miracle General Pervez Musharraf’s out-of-the-box four-point formula gets a shot in the arm,” perhaps we can begin anew, on a friendlier note,” he said, referring to the July 2001 Agra summit, hosted by Indian Prime Minister Vajpayee.

The four fixes included a gradual demilitarization of troops from both sides; no change in borders but allowing the people of Jammu and Kashmir to move freely across the LoC; self-governance without independence; and a joint supervision mechanism in the region involving India, Pakistan, and Kashmir.

But until that happens, Ahmar said, it would be best to let the territory be put under international supervision until its fate is decided. “I would say, place the region under the Trusteeship Council of the United Nations for at least 10 years,” he said.

Comprising the five permanent UN Security Council members—China, France, Russia, the UK, and the US—the Trusteeship Council aims to guide territories toward self-government or independence, either as separate states or by joining neighboring countries. The last trust territory, Palau, gained independence in October 1994. “The Trusteeship Council may have completed its mission in Palau but continues to exist on paper, under the UN Charter, chapter XII,” added Ahmar.

Columnist Munazza Siddiqui, also executive producer at Geo News, a private TV channel, advocated for yet another option: “Turn the LoC into a Working Boundary (a temporary, informally demarcated line used to separate areas, often in disputed regions or during a ceasefire, but different from the LoC, which is a military control line; something in-between the LoC and an international border), similar to the one that exists between Pakistan’s Punjab and Indian-administered J&K, as recognized under UN arrangements.

“The idea is to then shift focus towards bilateral cooperation in other areas,” she pointed out, adding, “This approach can hopefully help de-escalate the violence historically associated with the Kashmir issue.”

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Pakistani journalists speak out about cybercrimes law from left to right Hamid Mir, Munazza Siddiqui and Umar Cheema. Credits: Jang News, and TikTok

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Feb 5 2025 (IPS)

“I may not be able to continue hosting my show because the content I put up will most certainly land me in prison,” said senior correspondent Azaz Syed who works for a private TV channel, but who also has his own private online digital channel. He was referring to the recent amendment in the already existing cybercrime law, terming it a “wild” law which has been instituted to grapple with fake news among other online harms.

The new version—Prevention of Electronic Crimes (Amendment) Act, 2025—passed hurriedly, within a week, in both the houses without debate, and signed into a law by President Asif Ali Zardari on January 29, has triggered nationwide protests by the country’s media personnel.

“They have taken away my right to freedom of expression,” Syed told IPS.

“I fail to understand the uproar among journalists working in electronic media. They already have PEMRA, [the Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority] which is responsible for facilitating and regulating private electronic media,” said Minister for Information and Broadcasting Atta­ullah Tarar. “This law is to regulate the social media and countries across the world have some codes or standards under which social media operate; but there was none in our country.”

He said the existing authority, which is the Federal Investigation Authority, that looked into cybercrimes seemed ill-equipped to handle the expanding nature of online crimes taking place—harassment, pornography, national security threats, spreading economic uncertainty; just look at the conviction rate, which is dismal,” he defended the amendment.

Tarar’s reference to the “uproar” stems from TV journalists, like Syed, who have gigs on online platforms and fear the restrictions on content imposed by PECA.

For the past two years, Syed has been hosting a popular show on YouTube called Talk Shock, focusing on sensitive topics like the Pakistan army, intelligence agencies, blasphemy laws, persecution of Ahmadis, and forced conversions of Hindu girls. He described it as a passion project addressing issues close to his heart, despite potential disapproval from authorities. His show has gained over eight million viewers and 174,000 followers, also providing him with extra income.

Hamid Mir, host of Capital Talk, one of the oldest and highest-rated political talk shows, launched his digital TV channel on YouTube after being banned from TV in 2021 (he had already been banned twice, in 2007 by military dictator Pervez Musharraf  and in 2008 by the ruling Pakistan People’s Party) for  speaking against the country’s powerful military for persecuting journalists. “I share my opinions there when I am unable to on the channel that I’m employed in. Having your own platform is liberating,” he told IPS. He has 263,000 viewers.

Azaz Syed, who has his digital TV programme on YouTube called Talk Shock. Credit: Azaz Syed

Mir’s greater worry though is the possibility of losing his voice on X, where he connects with over eight million followers. “If I can’t speak my mind, it will have a profound impact on me,” he said.

But even those journalists who otherwise feel social media is being misused find the law distasteful.

“I have zero tolerance for fake news, and am all for regulating the beast that social media has become, but not this way, certainly” said senior investigative journalist, Umar Cheema, terming it a “third class” law.

The law was originally passed in 2016, by the same ruling party that has brought the current amendments – the Pakistan Muslim League-N. It had been met with much criticism even then.

“The reason for the need for the law given back in 2016 was to counter hate speech, terrorist content and harassment of women—this time the ruse is fake news,” said Farieha Aziz’s co-founder of Bolo Bhi, an advocacy forum for digital rights. The suspicion and criticism against the law now and then is the same—the government is using this law to “stifle political dissent and rein in freedom of expression” she said.

The amendment to the law, criminalises fake news and its dissemination with a prison term of up to three years and a fine of up to Rs 2 million (about USD 7,200).

But, pointed out Aziz, the concern went beyond just the penalties associated with the amendment to the law—it is the “potential for misuse” in the process of determining what constitutes fake news. “People will be reluctant to share or even discuss information out of fear that it might be deemed false or harmful, leading to criminal charges,” she explained, adding the definition of fake news was vague and broad. “They have created a vagueness through the use of language taken from the anti-terrorism act, around the offence,” she pointed out.

“The government operates in grey areas and likes to keep people in a state of confusion,” agreed Cheema.

Moreover, pointed out, Munazza Siddiqui, senior producer on a private TV channel: “The law is unconstitutional as it violates the fundamental right to freedom, a core principle enshrined in our Constitution.” She uses TikTok, a platform predominantly used for putting up entertaining content, for disseminating news and opinions. “It’s popular with young people but works superbly for me as they are my audience. The millennials and Gen Z want to stay informed about the world around them, but they lack the patience to sit through long articles or watch lengthy news segments on TV. I provide them with both in just a minute or so!”

However, Siddiqui acknowledged that her vlogging might be impacted. With the sword of Damocles hanging over her, in the form of the newly revised cyber law, she said, “We already navigate a space of self-censorship, and now there’s an added layer of fear.”

The law establishes four bodies—the Social Media Protection and Regulatory Authority, the Social Media Complaints Council, the Social Media Protection Tribunal, and the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency—concentrating significant power. Aziz warned that these bodies, appointed by the federal government, could lack independence, creating potential conflicts of interest and undermining fairness and accountability.

“And the window of appeal has also been closed as I can only go to the Supreme Court of Pakistan,” said Azaz, which was an expensive route to prove your innocence.

Although the 2016 cybercrime law was already considered draconian by experts, the reason to tweak it further, explained Cheema, was that “the nature and use of social media has changed and become more sophisticated since then, adding that the media needed to share the blame for the recent shape the law has taken.

Cheema said the media did not establish a code of conduct for responsible social media use which led the government to step in, using the fake news excuse to silence dissenting voices. He emphasized that while media can express opinions, facts must be solid, and journalists should hold each other accountable. “Yet, we don’t even call out our colleagues for lying.”

Finding the nationwide protest hypocritical, he questioned, “The bill wasn’t a surprise—everyone knew it was being revised. Why didn’t anyone speak up then? Where were the protests and revisions when it was in the National Assembly and Senate? There was silence, and now, after it’s law, they’re out on the streets.”

“The law is in place,” Tarrar said with finality. However, he added: “The rules are still being worked out, and we’re open to media input to refine them.”

“Recalling the law may be tough,” agreed Cheema, but if the media is concerned, “They can come up with their own system; no one is stopping them; but that’s the real test for our community.”

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Pop singer and education activist Shehzad Roy plays chess with Malala Yousafzai. Courtesy: Shehzad Roy

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Jan 13 2025 (IPS)

“She was at her brilliant best, speaking fearlessly and boldly about the treatment of women by the Afghan Taliban, robbing an entire generation of girls their future, and how they want to erase them from society,” said educationist and one of the speakers, Baela Raza Jamil, referring to the speech by Nobel Laureate and education activist Malala Yousafzai.

Jamil heads Idara-e-Taleem-o-Aagahi, an organization promoting progressive education.

Malala addressed the second day of a two-day international conference organized by the Pakistan Ministry of Federal Education and Professional Training (MoFE&PT) on January 11 and 12, to discuss the challenges and opportunities for girls’ education in Muslim communities.

“They are violators of human rights, and no cultural or religious excuse can justify them,” said Malala. “Let’s not legitimize them.”

Pop singer and education activist Shehzad Roy was equally impressed.

Roy said, “When she speaks, she speaks from the heart.”

It has been a little over three years since the Taliban banned secondary education for girls in Afghanistan on September 17, shortly after their return to power in August 2021. In 2022, the Taliban put a ban on women studying in colleges, and then in December 2024, this was extended to include women studying nursing, midwifery and dentistry.

In October 2012, at 15, Malala survived a Taliban assassination attempt for advocating girls’ education in Mingora, Pakistan. She was flown to England for treatment and has since settled there with her family while facing continued Taliban threats.

Dr. Pervez Hoodbhoy, a university professor and columnist, acknowledged that the treatment of girls and women in Afghanistan was essentially “primitive and barbaric,” but emphasized that “before the Pakistani government takes on the mantle of being their [Afghan women’s] liberator, there are laws relating to women (in Pakistan) that need to be changed and anti-women practices that need to be dismantled.”

Syani Saheliyan project, which helped nearly 50,000 adolescent girls by providing academic, life skills, vocational training, and technology-driven support to reintegrate Courtesy: Idara-e-Taleem-o-Aagahi

Dismantling many of the colonial laws and legal systems that perpetuate gender inequality at both personal and societal levels was also pointed out by Jamil, who spoke about the important role women can play in peacebuilding. But that was only possible, she said, when society can promote education and lifelong learning without discrimination.

“In Malala, we have a living example of a contemporary young student’s lived experience of responding to deadly violence by becoming a unique peacebuilder,” said Jamil in her speech to the conference.

This high-profile conference deliberately kept low-key till the last minute for “security reasons gathered 150 delegates, including ministers, ambassadors, scholars, and representatives from 44 Muslim and allied countries, as well as international organizations like UNESCO, UNICEF, the World Bank, and the Saudi-funded Muslim World League.

Hoodbhoy, however, said the summit was “solely purposed to break Pakistan’s isolation with the rest of the world and shore up a wobbly government desperate for legitimacy.”

While some Indian organizations were represented, Afghanistan, despite being invited, was conspicuously absent.

This did not go unnoticed.

“The silence of the Taliban, the world’s worst offender when it comes to girls’ education, was deafening,” pointed out Michael Kugelman, director of the Washington D.C.-based Wilson Center’s South Asia Institute. Given the strained relationship between Pakistan and Afghanistan, he said the former may have wanted this conference to bring attention to the Taliban’s horrific record on girls’ education.

“And it has succeeded, to a degree, especially with an iconic figure like Malala using the conference as a platform to condemn gender apartheid in Afghanistan under the Taliban.”

Yusafzai was glad that the conference was taking place in Pakistan. “Because there is still a tremendous amount of work that is ahead of us, so that every Pakistani girl can have access to her education,” she said, referring to the 12 million out-of-school girls.

Kugelman credited Pakistan as the host for not trying “to hide its own failures” on the education front. “It was important that Prime Minister Sharif acknowledged the abysmal state of girls’ education in Pakistan in his conference speech,” he said.

With 26 million out-of-school children in Pakistan, 53 percent of whom are girls, the summit seemed to be in line with Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s declaration of an education emergency in Pakistan last year, vowing to “bring them [unschooled children] back to school.”

“The PM is rightly worried about out-of-school kids, but I’m more worried about those who complete ten years of education and fail to develop critical thinking,” said Roy, commenting on the summit. The pop singer has been a very vocal education activist for over two decades.

Hoodbhoy had similar thoughts. “Had there been serious intent to educate girl children, the more effective and far cheaper strategies would be to make coeducation compulsory at the primary and early secondary levels to increase school availability and design curriculum to educate and inform girls (and boys) rather than simply brainwash,” he said.

Pop singer and education activist Shehzad Roy is concerned with the quality of education. Courtesy: Shehzad Roy

Roy stated that Yousafzai has consistently emphasized the importance of quality education. With just 150 government training institutions in Pakistan, he said there was an urgent need for reform through public-private partnerships. He also noted that many private schools hire unqualified teachers and advocated for a teaching license, like medical licenses.

Since forming the Zindagi Trust in 2003, Roy has been advocating for better quality education in public schools. He has also adopted two government girl’s schools in Karachi and turned them around, providing meals to nursery children and teaching chess and musical instruments, both unheard of in public schools, especially for girls.

The Prime Minister acknowledged that enrolling 26 million students in school was a challenging task, with “inadequate infrastructure, safety concerns, as well as deeply entrenched societal norms” acting as barriers, and stated that the real challenge was the “will” to do it.

For 34 years, Jamil has raised questions about the design and process of education in Pakistan through annual reports. She believes that bringing 26 million children back to school is less challenging than ensuring “foundational learning” for those already enrolled. “Forty-five percent of children aged 5-16 fail in reading, comprehension, and arithmetic,” she told IPS. Along with improved funding and well-equipped school infrastructure, Jamil was also concerned about what she termed a runaway population.

Lamenting on a “lack of imagination to solve the education crisis” within the government, she said there was potential to achieve so much more. Jamil’s own organisation’s 2018 Syani Saheliyan project helped nearly 50,000 adolescent girls (ages 9-19) in South Punjab who had dropped out of school. It provided academics, life skills, vocational training, and technology-driven support to reintegrate them into education. The project was recognized by HundrEd Innovation in 2023.

Even Dr. Fozia Parveen, assistant professor at Aga Khan University’s Institute for Educational Development, would like the government to think outside the box and find a “middle ground” by including local wisdom in modern education.

“Instead of western-led education in an already colonial education system, perhaps a more grassroots approach using local methods of education can be looked into,” she suggested, adding: “There is so much local wisdom and knowledge that we will lose if we continue to be inspired by and adopt foreign systems. An education that is localized with all modern forms and technologies is necessary for keeping up with the world,” she said.

Further, Parveen, who looks at environmental and climate education, said “more skill-based learning would be needed in the times to come, which would require updated curriculum and teachers that are capacitated to foster those skills.”

The two-day International Conference on Girls’ Education in Muslim Communities ended with the signing of the Islamabad Declaration, recognizing education as a fundamental right protected by divine laws, Islamic teachings, international charters, and national constitutions. Muslim leaders pledged to ensure girls’ right to education, “without limitations” and “free from restrictive conditions,” in line with Sharia. The declaration highlighted girls’ education as a religious and societal necessity, key to empowerment, stable families, and global peace, while addressing extremism and violence.

It condemned extremist ideologies, fatwas, and cultural norms hindering girls’ education and perpetuating societal biases. Leaders committed to offering scholarships for girls affected by poverty and conflict and developing programs for those with special needs to ensure inclusivity.

The declaration concluded by affirming “it will not be a temporary appeal, an empty declaration, or simply a symbolic stance. Rather, it will represent a qualitative transformation in advocating for girls’ education—bringing prosperity to every deprived girl and to every community in dire need of the contributions of both
its sons and daughters equally”.

A permanent committee was urged to oversee the implementation of these outcomes.

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Mahrang Baloch recently was acknowledged by the BBC as one of the most inspiring and influential women from around the world for 2024. Credit: Baloch Yakjehti Committee

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Dec 13 2024 (IPS)

“This recognition by a media outlet highlights the painful stories of abductions, torture, and the genocide of the Baloch people,” said 31-year-old political activist Mahrang Baloch, speaking with IPS over the phone from Quetta, Balochistan, in reference to her inclusion on the BBC’s annual list of 100 most inspiring and influential women from around the world for 2024.

“BBC 100 Women acknowledges the toll this year has taken on women by celebrating those who—through their resilience—are pushing for change as the world changes around them,” stated the media organization.

This is the second award that Mahrang received this year. In October, she was among Time magazine’s ‘2024 Time100 Next’ list of young individuals to recognize for “advocating peacefully for Baloch rights.”

She was invited by the magazine to attend a ceremony in New York, but she was stopped at the airport from boarding the plane on October 7 “without giving me a reason” why. She stated that she was termed a “terrorist” and a “suicide bomber,” with multiple cases filed against her. “And if this were not enough, now I and my brother have been placed on the Fourth Schedule list,” she said. Introduced in 1997, the Fourth Schedule aimed to combat sectarian violence, militancy, and terrorism. Almost 4,000 Baloch have been placed in the Fourth Schedule list.

Being placed on the Fourth Schedule under the Anti-Terrorism Act (ATA) is a serious matter, resulting in restrictions such as travel bans, frozen bank accounts, prohibitions on financial support, arms license embargoes, and employment clearance limitations.

A trained medical doctor, Mahrang began protesting against the alleged abductions and killings of innocent Baloch by Pakistani security forces in 2006, well before her father, a political activist, forcibly disappeared in 2009. His tortured body was discovered in 2011.

In 2017, her brother was abducted, and though he was released in 2018, Mahrang continued to advocate for justice for all the disappeared, despite facing threats and intimidation. In 2019, she founded the Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC), a human rights movement dedicated to raising awareness and seeking justice for the Baloch people.

Balochistan’s history of resistance against the Pakistan government began in 1948 and continues. Pakistan’s military, paramilitary and intelligence forces have responded with kidnapping, torturing and killing tens of thousands of Baloch men.

The Voice for the Baloch Missing Persons, a non-profit organisation representing family members of those who disappeared in Balochistan, has registered approximately 7,000 cases since 2000.

“We have been fighting for our families now for over two decades, on every platform. I have appeared in courts, even the Supreme Court of Pakistan, presented our cause at every commission and committee that the government or the judiciary has set up but so far there has been no progress. In fact, in the last three months of this year alone, more Baloch individuals are being picked than in any other time,” said Nasrullah Baloch, chairman of the VBMP, speaking to IPS over the phone.

“We have no confidence in any government institution, especially the government-constituted Commission of Inquiry on Enforced Disappearances (CoIED), anymore to resolve our issue,” he rued.

But neither does the International Commission of Jurists (ICJ). In 2020, Ian Seiderman, ICJ’s Legal and Policy Director, stated the commission (established in 2011) had failed to hold even a single perpetrator of enforced disappearance responsible.

“A commission that does not address impunity nor facilitate justice for victims and their families can certainly not be considered effective,” he said.

Since the ICJ’s policy brief, not much seems to have changed. Indeed, Mahrang asserts that the situation has deteriorated. In the past three months, “over 300 Baloch have been abducted, and seven cases of extrajudicial killings have been reported.” On the other hand, the CoIED reported that it had resolved 8,015 of the 10,285 cases it had investigated from 2011 to June 2024.

In 2021 and then again in 2022, Pakistan’s parliament tried passing a bill to criminalize enforced disappearances but it has not yet come into force. Pakistan has refused to ratify the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance.

Media’s Dismal Role

While the international media has given Baloch activists like Mahrang “hope” by amplifying their voices and bringing “visibility” to their “genuine” cause, she said it has failed to ignite the Pakistani media.

“Our national media has failed us,” she lamented, adding that they never supported their “genuine” cause. In such circumstances, the recognition by the international media gives her some “hope.”

Prominent journalist and author Mohammad Hanif, who has consistently highlighted the issue of missing Baloch, described Mahrang as “articulate, clearheaded, and inspirational.” He admitted that the media in Pakistan has not given the issue adequate coverage, revealing, “There were standing instructions to newsrooms not to cover it.” Furthermore, he pointed out a “clear bias among mainstream journalists against Baloch issues.”

Talat Hussain, political commentator and journalist, agreed that media coverage of enforced disappearances had been “limited and partially blacked out” but added it was not entirely absent in its coverage.

He acknowledged he had not covered the issue extensively, not because he had been asked to avoid it, but because the overwhelming news flow in Islamabad, driven by political unrest, protests, rising terrorism, and economic challenges, eclipsed everything.

However, Hussain noted that what was considered a human rights issue had become deeply politicized, increasingly intertwined with Baloch separatism. Many now view the activists as opponents of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor projects. “This complicates efforts to recognize Mahrang solely as a human rights campaigner,” he remarked.

Farah Zia, director of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, declined to equate the BYC with the separatist movement. She described women like Mahrang, who “come out to protest and even lead them,” as a refreshing phenomenon. “This completely unarmed, non-violent resistance movement makes these young women leaders extremely powerful.” Moreover, said Zia, “Even her followers are young, educated Baloch who have defied their traditional power centres, including their tribal elders.”

“They have broken many stereotypes associated with Baloch women,” agreed Zohra Yusuf, a rights activist. In 2023, Mahrang led hundreds of women on a 1,000-mile (1,600 km) march to the capital Islamabad to demand information on the whereabouts of their family members. She was arrested twice during the journey. The BBC highlighted her December 2023 march to Islamabad, where she and hundreds of women marched for “justice for their husbands, sons, and brothers.”

“The people of Balochistan see Mahrang and the BYC as a beacon of hope because they have completely lost faith in the politicians,” pointed out Mir Mohammad Ali Talpur, who has been associated with the Baloch rights struggle since 1971 and wrote about violations of their rights in newspapers till 2015, after which he said the “media stopped publishing my pieces due to state pressure.”

“There are no consequences for those implementing disappear, kill and dump policies,” said Hanif. “The state believes in its own brute colonial power.”

“Enforced disappearances will continue as there is total impunity for the perpetrators. Those associated with the intelligence and security agencies have no regard for the rule of law,” pointed out Yusuf. She said the young doctor had exhibited “positive leadership qualities by being firm on her demands without creating hatred towards anyone.”

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Farmer Hasan Khan took photos of his farm in Kasur during the smog. Credit: Hasan Khan

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Nov 28 2024 (IPS)

Atif Manzoor, 45, the owner of the renowned blue pottery business in Multan, had every reason to feel cheerful last week when the sun finally came out. For a good three weeks, the city of Sufi shrines had been shrouded in an envelope of thick smog.

For over three weeks, he said, business had been terrible, with “several orders canceled” and advance payments refunded. He also had to bear the transport costs he had already paid after the government imposed restrictions on heavy traffic and closed the motorways due to poor visibility.

Thick smog had blanketed cities across Punjab province, home to 127 million people, since the last week of October. Multan, with a population of 2.2 million, recorded an air quality index (AQI) above 2,000, surpassing Lahore, the provincial capital, where the AQI exceeded 1,000.

While Lahore’s AQI has improved, it still fluctuates between 250 (very unhealthy) and 350 (hazardous) on the Swiss company’s scale, keeping it among the top cities in the world with the poorest air quality. As this article went into publication, it was 477, or “very unhealthy.”

Terming the AQI levels in Punjab, in particular Lahore and Multan, “unprecedented, Punjab’s Environment Secretary, Raja Jahangir Anwar, blamed the “lax construction regulations, poor fuel quality, and allowing old smoke-emitting vehicles plying on the roads, residue burning of rice crops to prepare the fields for wheat sowing” as some of the factors contributing to the smog in winter when the air near the ground becomes colder and drier.

Manzoor was not alone in his predicament. Smog had disrupted everyone’s life in the province, including students, office workers, and those who owned or worked in or owned smoke-emitting businesses like kilns, restaurants, construction, factories, or transport, after authorities put restrictions on them.

Even farmers in rural settings were not spared. Hasan Khan, 60, a farmer from Kasur, said that the lack of sunlight, poor air quality, transport delays preventing laborers from reaching farms, and low visibility were all hindering farm work and stunting crop growth.

“The smog hampered plant growth by blocking sunlight and slowing photosynthesis, and since we do flood irrigation, the fields stay drenched longer, causing crop stress, and the trees began shedding their leaves due to poor air quality,” he said.

A screenshot of the IQAir airquality index for Thursday, November 28, 2024, showing the top 10 most polluted cities. Credit: IQAir

Divine Intervention or Blueskying

After weeks of relentless smog, residents of Punjab had been calling for artificial rain, similar to what was done last year. This process involves releasing chemicals like silver iodide from airplanes to induce rainfall. However, Anwar explained that artificial rain requires specific weather conditions, including the right humidity levels, cloud formations, and wind patterns. “We only carry out cloud seeding when there is at least a 50 percent chance of precipitation,” he said.

On November 15, favorable weather conditions allowed for cloud seeding over several cities and towns in Punjab’s Potohar Plateau, leading to natural rainfall in Islamabad and surrounding areas. The forecast also predicted that this would trigger rain in Lahore.

On November 23, Lahore received its first winter rain, which helped clear the thick, toxic smog that had been causing eye irritation and throat discomfort, revealing the sun and a clear blue sky. However, some believe the downpour was the result of the collective rain prayer, Namaz-e-Istisqa, held at mosques across the province, seeking divine intervention.

But cloud seeding has its critics. Dr. Ghulam Rasul, advisor at the China-Pakistan Joint Research Centre and former head of the Pakistan Meteorological Department, cautioned that cloud seeding might reduce smog temporarily, but it was not a sustainable solution. Instead, it could create dry conditions that worsen fog and smog. He also warned that an overdose could trigger hailstorms or heavy rainfall.

Once the smog thinned and the air quality improved, the government eased its restrictions, allowing shops and restaurants (with barbecues if smoke is controlled) to remain open till 8 pm and 10 pm, respectively; schools and colleges have also opened, and the ban placed on construction work, brick kiln operations, and heavy transport vehicles (carrying passengers, fuels, medicines, and foods), including ambulances, rescue, fire brigades, prison, and police vehicles, has also been lifted. In addition, the government has installed 30 air quality monitors around Lahore and other cities of the province.

While the air may have cleared, health issues left in its wake are expected to persist, according to medical practitioners. Over the past 30 days, the official score of people seeking medical treatment for respiratory problems in the smog-affected districts of the province reached over 1.8 million people. In Lahore, the state-owned news agency, the Associated Press of Pakistan, reported 5,000 cases of asthma.

“Frankly, this figure seems rather underreported,” said Dr. Ashraf Nizami, president of the Pakistan Medical Association’s Lahore chapter.

“This is just the beginning,” warned Dr. Salman Kazmi, an internist in Lahore. “Expect more cases of respiratory infections and heart diseases ahead,” he said.

UNICEF had also warned that 1.1 million children under five in the province were at risk due to air pollution. “Young children are more vulnerable because of smaller lungs, weaker immunity, and faster breathing,” the agency stated.

While the government has put several measures in place, a long-term, measurable plan is needed, say experts. Credit: Hasan Khan

Ineffective Band-Aid Solutions

Although the government took several measures to manage the smog, few were impressed. Climate governance expert Imran Khalid, blaming the “environmental misgovernance for degradation of an already poor air quality across Pakistan,” found the anti-smog plan a “hodgepodge of general policy measures” with no long-term measurable plan.

He argued that the plan only targets seasonal smog instead of taking a year-round “regional, collective approach” to fighting air pollution across the entire Indus-Gangetic plains, not just in Lahore or Multan.

“I will take this seriously when I see a complete action plan in one place, preceded by a diagnostic of the causes and followed by a prioritization of actions with a timeline for implementation monitored by a committee with representation of civil society,” said Dr. Anjum Altaf, an educationist specializing in several fields along with environmental sciences. “Till such time, it is just words!” he added.

Khalid said plans and policies can only succeed if they are evidence-based, inclusive, bottom-up, and “and implemented by well-trained authorities, supported by political will and resources, flexible in response to challenges, and focused on the health of the people.”

Others argue that the slow response to the decade-long smog crisis, despite a clear understanding of its causes, reflects a matter of misplaced priorities.

“It’s all about priority,” said Aarish Sardar, a design educator, curator, and writer based in Lahore. “Many years ago, when the government wanted to nip the dengue epidemic, it was able to,” he said.

“Mosquitoes were eliminated once they reached officials’ residences,” said farmer Khan, agreeing that when there is political will, remarkable changes can occur.

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Smog near the Ghanta Ghar (Clock Tower) in Faisalabad, a city about 120 km from Lahore and the third most populous city after Karachi and Lahore. Credits: Khalid Mahmood/Wiki & handout.

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Nov 12 2024 (IPS)

“It’s been horrible; I’ve been sick on and off for the last 10 days,” said 29-year-old asthmatic Natasha Sohail, who teaches A-Level students at three private schools in Lahore. Last week, her condition worsened with a vertigo attack and fever. “It’s criminal what is happening here,” said an incensed Sohail, referring to the “band-aid measures” taken by the Punjab government.

Lahore also has the distinction of being the world leader in the poor air quality index (AQI), with some neighborhoods touching over 1200 on the AQI this month. The AQI measures the level of fine particles (PM2.5), larger particles (PM10), nitrogen dioxide (NO2), and ozone (O3) in the air. An AQI of 151 to 200 is classified as “unhealthy”, 201 to 300 “very unhealthy” and more than 300 as “hazardous”.

For the past eight years, since Sohail was in college and since smog became an annual phenomenon, Sohail has relied on anti-wheezing drugs and inhalers. At home, there are four air purifiers to help her breathe cleaner air.

She’s not alone.

These two photos were taken at the same place; the clear blue sky was taken in September 2023 and the sepia skies in November 2024. Courtesy: Zaeema Naeem

“The hospitals are crowded with tens of thousands of patients suffering from respiratory and heart diseases being treated at hospitals and clinics over the last few weeks,” said Dr. Ashraf Nizami, president of the Pakistan Medical Association’s Lahore chapter. “The psychological toll the poor air is taking on people remains under the radar.”

Punjab’s senior minister, Marriyum Aurangzeb, revealing the government’s anti-smog action plan, informed journalists that Lahore endured 275 days of unhealthy Air Quality Index (AQI) levels over the past year, with temperatures rising by 2.3 degrees.

After Lahore’s AQI exceeded 1,000 last week, authorities closed all primary and secondary schools. Punjab’s Secretary for Environment, Raja Jahangir Anwar, warned the closure could continue if air quality doesn’t improve. “Young children are vulnerable, and we want to avoid an emergency,” he said, adding that online learning, like during the COVID pandemic, can be adopted again.

Source: Analysis by CREA. Data source for Lahore AQI is Airnow

Source: Analysis by CREA. Data source for Lahore AQI is Airnow

Source: Analysis by CREA. Data source for Lahore AQI is Airnow

Living in a world of air purifiers

Aliya Khan, 37, a mother of two boys—aged five and one, with the older one suffering from asthma—had installed four imported air purifiers in her home four years ago, each costing Rs 31,000 (USD 111). They bought a fifth this year at Rs 60,000 (USD 215). “It cost us a fortune, but that’s not all; the filters must be replaced every year, which costs Rs 10,000 (USD 36) per machine,” she said.

The private school her five-year-old attends lacks air purifiers in classrooms, leaving parents with no choice but to pool together and buy one for their child’s classroom.

Khan, a development consultant, says air purifiers work best if the home is packed tightly to keep the air from outside entering. “Our windows and doors are poorly insulated and with elderly parents, househelp and two kids—the air purifiers struggle to maintain their effectiveness.”

Smog Brings Business for Some

Business picks up for 37-year-old Hassan Zaidi as soon as Lahore is covered in smog. He’s currently fulfilling an order for “hundreds of air purifiers” for a foreign school in Lahore.

A computer engineer with a passion for product design, Zaidi started building air purifiers in 2019 for his family after his baby daughter developed a cough. He purchased an imported air purifier, took it apart, and quickly realized that with the right materials, it was no “rocket science” to build one himself.

He claimed his “work better, look better, and cost just Rs 25,000 (USD 90).” These air purifiers restart automatically after power outages, are nearly silent, and are easy to repair. The filter costs Rs 2,400 (USD 9) and needs replacing each season. Each unit is good for a 500 sq ft room if fully sealed.

Authorities Take Action

Stubble burning in India and Pakistan. The blue line is the border between the two countries. Pakistan (left) and India (on the right).

Anwar said the government has introduced several measures to reduce emissions and improve air quality, adopting a whole-of-government approach with all departments working together for the first time.

Authorities have already banned barbecuing food without filters and use of motorized rickshaws.

The government distributed 1,000 subsidized super-seeders to farmers as an alternative to burning rice stubble and took legal action against over 400 farmers who violated the burning ban. “This carrot and stick approach will be very effective,” endorsed Dr. Abid Qaiyum Suleri, the executive director of the Islamabad-based think tank, Sustainable Development Policy Institute.

Anwar said super seeders will convert residue into mulch, improving production and speeding sowing. Penalizing a few farmers will deter others from breaking the law.

“But the government’s own figures show agriculture contributes less than 4 percent to smog,” pointed out Hassan Khan, a farmer in Punjab, and added, “Why waste so much time and expense on it; why not focus on the bigger polluters like the transport industry?”

Another measure the government took involved demolishing over 600 of the 11,000 smoke-emitting brick kilns that hadn’t switched to zigzag technology, including 200 in and around Lahore.

Terming brick kilns the “low hanging fruit,” Dr. Parvez Hassan, senior advocate of the Supreme Court of Pakistan and president of the Pakistan Environmental Law Association, who, in 2003 and again in 2018, was appointed the chairperson of the Lahore Clean Air Commission and the Smog Commission by the Lahore High Court to come up with the smog policy, did not approve the “arbitrary decision of dismantling” of the kilns. In his view supporting the kiln owners with “available concessional financing for conversion to zizag technology” would be a more effective way.

He further added that it was well known that the transport (oil), cement and textile sectors were the bigger polluters, but they were very influential. “Power in Pakistan has always meant being above the law,” he said, and that the “general lack of political will and effective capability to monitor compliance” also acted as roadblocks. “No country in the world has succeeded in good environmental policies unless it has first built a capacity to implement! The journey must begin with capacity building!”

However, Anwar said, action has been taken with visits to 15,000 industrial units, sealing 64 mills and demolishing 152 factories.

With 43 percent of air pollution in the province caused by unfit vehicles, Anwar also held the transporters responsible for the smog. He shared that Lahore has 1.3 million cars and 4.5 million two-wheelers, with 1,800 motorcycles added daily. He also mentioned that the traffic police had been ordered to impound vehicles without fitness certificates. Last month, a fine of Rs 16.09 (USD 57,700 million) was imposed on over 24,000 substandard vehicles across the province.

“Getting a vehicle fitness certificate in Pakistan is as easy as a blind person getting a license to drive!” said a petroleum expert who requested anonymity. “We need to clean the fuel, scrap old vehicles, and make vehicle emissions testing mandatory,” he added.

Imran Khalid, a climate governance expert, emphasized that improving fuel quality alone wasn’t enough; vehicles and engines also need upgrades to fully benefit from better fuel. He noted that while Euro 5 fuel is available in Pakistan, it’s not widely accessible, and Euro 6 is the standard in India. “I haven’t seen any survey on how many cars in Pakistan have Euro 5 compliant engines,” he added.

“I think it would be far more effective to invest in mass transit, but there is no talk of this issue; we keep making more motorways, widening roads, and bringing in more vehicles on roads in the cities instead of investing in railways and commuter rails,” said farmer Khan.

The petroleum expert urged the government to approve the refinery upgrade policy, which has been delayed for two years, adding that upgrades will take up to five years.

Despite various actions, people in Lahore remain unconvinced, calling them too little, too late.

“The measures announced by the government should have been operationalized at least six months before the smog season and the 24/7 enforcement of these priorities should be rigorously monitored by a dedicated team with support of the public through awareness campaigns,” pointed out advocate Hassan.

Nizami called for year-round efforts against air pollution, questioning why no one is held accountable for cutting millions of trees for unplanned housing while the focus remains on controlling stubble burning.

The Pakistan Air Quality Experts (PAQx) group, a coalition of 27 professionals from public health, environmental science, law, and economics, has written to the prime minister, suggesting the establishment of a “comprehensive, nationwide real-time air quality monitoring network” for informed decision-making and responsive policymaking.

Anwar defended the smog plan, stating it’d been in progress since April and required public cooperation, including staying indoors and wearing masks. Punjab’s senior minister, Marriyum Aurangzeb, warned that failure to wear masks could lead to a complete city lockdown.

“I don’t see the plan working as the air quality is getting from bad to worse,” said Sohail.

Nizami criticized the government for making a lot of noise but taking little action. “It’s shameful how they’ve shifted health responsibilities to the private sector,” he said.

Sohail suggested cloud seeding for artificial rain, noting its positive impact last year. Nizami also supported using artificial rain to clear the haze.

Anwar explained that cloud seeding required the right clouds and humidity. “But we are quite ready and as soon as the timing is right, we will do it,” he promised.

Climate Diplomacy

While 70 percent of smog in Lahore is locally generated, nearly 30 percent comes from India. Manoj Kumar, a scientist with the Finnish Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air, noted that the Indo-Gangetic Plain formed an “interconnected airshed,” affecting air quality, but local sources played a major role in Lahore’s pollution levels.

The chief minister is keen to start talks with her Indian counterpart. “Maryam Nawaz will soon send a letter to the Chief Minister of Indian Punjab, expressing her willingness to visit India and invite him to Pakistan,” said Anwar.

Kumar praised the Punjab chief minister’s initiative, emphasizing that long-term, coordinated efforts between both countries could lead to improved air quality through a unified approach. But the efforts should not stop at the Punjab regions alone, as the airshed is shared and goes beyond India.

Anwar said Pakistan is considering hosting a “regional climate conference in Lahore soon.”

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Warm up at the Government Girls Degree College, Jacobabad. Most girls feel awkward and shy when they first wear track pants and T-shirt but do realize they cannot run swiftly in their traditional outfits they are used to wearing. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Aug 21 2024 (IPS)

Goalkeeper Rehana Jamali, 17, is jubilant. Her team came in second in the All Sindh Women Hockey Tournament, held last month.

“We were the youngest of the seven teams,” she told IPS over the phone from Jacobabad, in Pakistan’s Sindh province. The city hit headlines two years ago after being termed the hottest city on earth when its temperatures rose to 50 degrees Celsius. This year, the mercury shot up to 52 degrees Celsius there. “We were training for the tournament from May to June, when the heat was at its worst,” said Jamali.

“Obviously, this affected our game,” she admitted.

“You cannot imagine the obstacles these girls have to overcome,” pointed out Erum Baloch, 32, a schoolteacher and a former hockey player, who runs the only women’s sports academy in Jacobabad, the Stars Women Sports Academy, of which Jamali is a member.

In many parts of Pakistan, especially in small towns like Jacobabad, women are supposed to maintain a certain degree of invisibility and not bring too much attention to themselves. Exercising, stretching or even doing yoga postures while wearing T-shirts and track pants in a public place where men can watch, is awkward for many women in Pakistan, as these can reveal a woman’s body shape.

A 2022 study, found that “almost 90 percent” of Pakistani women and girls do not participate in sports or physical activities because of “religious and cultural limitations, a lack of permission from parents, and a lack of sports facilities and equipment.”

To encourage more women to pursue sports and play their best, the government must provide monetary support for their transport, nutrition and health needs. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

The Star Women’s Sports Academy team from Jacobabad stood second at the Asifa Bhutto Zardari Women’s Hockey Tournament held in Sukkur in July 2024. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

“Even when facilities are present in Pakistan, they are often outdated, open-air, and/or mixed gender, with female students often feeling embarrassed to participate in sports alongside, or be visible to, men. Hence, such women decide not to use these facilities,” the study pointed out.

Baloch left sports because Jacobabad could not provide women like her with “proper grounds, equipment or coaches.”

These are the very reasons why she wanted to open an academy just for women. It is completely free of charge, as “most girls come from extremely modest backgrounds and cannot even afford to pay for transport, a healthy meal or even bottled water,” she said.

“Erum pays for my daily commute to and from the sports ground,” said Jamali. In fact, Baloch spends between 25,000 and 30,000 rupees (USD 90 and USD 108) each month from her own pocket to pay for the transport, bottled water during training and sachets of oral rehydration salts for some 30 to 40 girls, aged between 9 and 18.

Haseena Liaqat Ali, 19, was the most promising athlete at Baloch’s academy but six months ago she missed the trials for selection in the Pakistan army’s team after she got infected with Hepatitis A.

“With rising gas and electricity prices, they cannot even afford to boil water at home,” said the coach, who thinks unclean water is a big reason for the people contracting the disease.

“I still feel very weak,” said Ali. Having left her treatment midway as her father could not afford the medicines, she has had a relapse.

“Life is unjust for the poor,” said Baloch, adding that “Sports stars often come from small towns like ours.”

Many promising athletes, like 19-year-old Haseena Liaquat Ali, cannot even afford medicines to complete treatment of their illnesses. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

With hours of power outages and little respite from heat, many athletes complain they never get enough rest. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

But it is not just the cultural and economic barriers that are keeping Pakistani women out of the sporting arena; they must fight another barrier—climate change-induced rising temperatures.

“We get tired quickly,” said Jamali.

Haseena Soomro, 19, another athlete at the same academy, added: “The heat is unbearable, and we are unable to run fast.”

The girls play on astroturf, which absorbs more heat from the sun than grass and has no natural way of cooling. But Baloch said it was better than playing on loose earth, which they did in the past. “The sand would go in our eyes and because of the high temperatures, the soil would get too hot during the day.” Further, she said there was always the danger of snakes lurking under the earth.

To beat the heat, Baloch rescheduled the practice to begin late in the evening—from 6 to 9 pm, for which she had to go to each family personally to allow their girls to come for the training. Even at that time, she said, “The heat continues to be unforgiving.”

“Jacobabad refuses to cool down in the night and there is no wind,” pointed out Aqsa Shabbir, 17, another hockey player. And although she has an air conditioner in her home, she said it was nothing more than a “showpiece,” as they are without electricity for most of the night. “We never get a fitful night’s sleep,” she said.

Erum Baloch (middle, holding the runner-up award) said sports healed her when she was going through depression after she lost her only brother in a suicide bombing in 2015. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

Baloch said the city was witnessing unprecedented power outages and together with the high temperatures, it has meant the residents never get any respite to cool down. John Jacob, the British brigadier general, who the city is named after, described the wind as “a blast from the furnace” even at night.

Ali’s home was without electricity for 15 days as their area transformer burst. “My father bought a solar panel on loan which generated enough electricity to light a bulb and a fan, but the strong winds ruined the glass on it and it does not work anymore,” she said.

The late evening training has also come with its own set of social problems.

Jannat Bibi, Jamali’s mother, who had given permission, grudgingly said it was getting tedious making excuses to the neighbors and relatives for her daughter’s absence from home or her coming home after dark.

“Girls cannot venture out alone after dark,” she said, adding: “This sport cannot continue for much longer,” she said, worried that if word gets out, it may be difficult to find a “good” marriage proposal for her daughter later.

“My father’s angry mood affects my performance, as I’m always tense about getting late,” said Jamali. “I wish my parents would be proud of my achievements, but all they are concerned about is what others are thinking,” she added irritably.

Graphic credit: Cecilia Russell/IPS

Graphic credit: Cecilia Russell/IPS

Dur Bibi Brohi, a former hockey player, got married at 19 and never played after that.

“That was the most beautiful time of my life,” reminisced the 23-year-old mother of two, thankful that her parents allowed her to travel out of the city and even out of the country for a few matches.

“The few years that I played sports changed me from a shy and meek person to a more confident me; I wish more parents could be like mine and not let societal pressures dictate them,” she added.

This is endorsed by Baloch.

Dribbling drills at the Government Girls Degree College, Jacobabad. Girls must not venture out alone after dark, said the mother of an athlete. She said if word gets out, it may be difficult to find a “good” marriage proposal for her daughter. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

Rehana Jamali, her team’s goalkeeper, cannot help but think of the acrimony at home she faces for returning home late in the evening after her training sessions; she says it affects her performance. Credit: Erum Baloch/IPS

“Women get strong physically and mentally through sports,” she said, giving her own example. She said it “healed” her when she was in depression after she lost her only brother in a suicide bombing in 2015.

“I was 25 and he was 23, and he was my best buddy.”

She had already lost her father when she was four. And being in the sports arena helps her even now as a health carer for her mother, who is a cancer patient.

Another challenge is their attire.

“Initially, I felt shy playing in a T-shirt and track pants and kept pulling the shirt down as it showed off my thighs,” said Jamali.

“Most girls find this dress code awkward, and it affects their concentration,” said Baloch.

But Jamali realized she could not run as swiftly in the loose, long shirt with heavy embroidery on the front, baggy pants and chadar [big scarf] that she wears at home.

“I have accepted the uniform,” she said, but makes sure she wears an abaya (a loose gown) over it when leaving her home to reach the sports ground. “Seeing me in western attire on the street would create quite a scandal in the neighbourhood!” she said.

A way out of all these barriers, said Baloch, would be a small ‘5-A side’ air-conditioned facility. “It will be the biggest support for women athletes in Jacobabad in the summer, which is long and unbearable here,” she said.

In addition, Baloch also believed that if the government is serious about encouraging women to enter sports and play their best, they need continuous support in the form of a stipend to be able to manage their transport, nutrition and health needs.

“I sometimes manage to get uniforms and shoes sponsored but this slapdash approach needs to stop,” said Baloch.

This feature piece is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.

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Excerpt:

The extreme heat adversely affected the milk production of the over 800,000 cattle in Karachi. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Aug 9 2024 (IPS)

The over 20 million residents of Pakistan’s port city of Karachi, in Sindh province in particular, have been experiencing brutal heat since May. But they are not the only ones bearing the brunt of high temperatures and humidity.

Up to 15,000 cattle died due to scorching heat mixed with high humidity which Shakir Umar Gujjar, president of the Cattle and Dairy Farmers Association, Pakistan, said was “no joke”.

Mubashir Abbas, owner of 170 heads, lost eight cows and five buffaloes to the “extreme heat” in the last week of June, which translates to a loss of Rs 5.5 million (USD 19,800) for him.

“Three more are running high fever and I will have to sell them to cut my losses,” he told IPS over phone from Bhains Colony, in Karachi’s Landhi district. “I will fetch no more than Rs 40,000 (USD 143) a piece, when the market rate for each healthy one is valued between Rs 1.5 and 2 million (USD 5,300–7,000),” he estimated. Every now and then, in the last 23 years, he would lose a few to disease, but he had never “seen a healthy animal dying from heat.”

Livestock, the largest sub-sector in agriculture, contributed 60.84 percent to agriculture and 14.63 percent to the country’s GDP during 2023-2024, according to the Pakistan Economic Survey. More than eight million rural families are engaged in livestock production, accounting for 35-40 percent of their total income.

About 15,000 cattle died due scorching heat mixed with high humidity in Sindh province, Pakistan. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

“From June 23 to 30, Karachi experienced a heatwave with temperatures ranging between 40 and 42 °C. The ‘feel-like’ temperature went up to 54 °C due to high humidity,” said Dr. Sardar Sarfaraz, chief meteorologist at the Pakistan Meteorological Department.

Dr. Nazeer Hussain Kalhoro, director general at the government’s Sindh Institute of Animal Health in the Livestock and Fisheries Department in Karachi, attributed extreme heat to the death of livestock, especially exotic and crossed breeds.

The temperature was still lower than the deadly 2015 heatwave temperature of 44.8 °C that claimed over 2,000 human lives when the feel-like heat index exceeded 60 °C, said Sarfaraz. “A much bigger number of animals died then, and many young animals had to be slaughtered,” said Gujjar.

The heat had adversely affected the milk production of the over 800,000 cattle in Karachi, said Gujjar. “When an animal is in stress and discomfort, due to extreme heat, its intake of regular amount of fodder decreases, which can result in decrease in milk production,” said Kalhoro.

“I was getting between 1,400 and 1,480 kg in a day; it is not more than 960 kg now. I lose 0.11 million rupees (USD 400) daily,” said Abbas.

Communication Gap

The lack of engagement with the farmer by the government was the reason. Gujjar said the communication gap between the ministry of national food security and research at the federal level and the livestock departments at the provincial departments meant the uneducated farmer was on his own.

“The biggest tragedy is that our farmer is not educated and also unaware of how to prepare or protect the animal from the vagaries of climate,” said Gujjar, adding: “They do their own traditional treatment of their animals, which results in even more avoidable deaths.”

Similar is the plight of small farmers who remain in the eye of the climate storm. “They are continuously in a reactive mode,” said Mahmood Nawaz Shah, president of a farmers’ group, the Sindh Abadgar Board, with “government policies not conducive to them”.

Giving examples, Shah said the minimum price of cotton was fixed and notified at Rs 8,500/kg (UAD 30) but growers received Rs 5,200/kg (USD 18); a 50-kilo bag of urea increased from Rs 1,700 to Rs 4,600 (USD 6 to 16) in just three years; and the artificial shortage for the same last year meant the farmer had to pay Rs 5,500 for the same bag from the black market.

“We had recommended to the government to develop a climate endowment fund and compensate small farmers by involving insurance companies as soon as extreme events lead to crop and livestock losses,” said Shah.

Both the farmers, Gujjar and Shah, have hit the nail on the head on why Pakistan, one of the most vulnerable to climate crises, is unable to manage it effectively. The disconnect and lack of coordination between different federal and their related provincial government bodies is found across the spectrum and is highlighted in the 2024 Climate Change Performance Index (CCPI) as a major reason that hampered policy implementation, placing Pakistan on the 30th position among 63 countries and the EU, which collectively account for over 90 percent of global greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. “Improved cooperation between different levels of government would be a step in the right direction,” it concluded.

Similarly, the 2024 Environmental Performance Index that assesses the progress of effectiveness of 180 countries in mitigating climate change, relying on historical greenhouse gas emissions data, put Pakistan three rungs down at 179^th rank this year from the 176^th position it held in 2022.

Indifference and Apathy

Both the CCPI and the EPI are a clear giveaway of government’s nonchalance. The latter index has especially pointed to areas like air pollution, wastewater treatment, protected areas management and climate mitigation.

“The country is slipping on most environmental indicators,” agreed former climate change minister, Malik Amin Aslam, pointing to the weak air pollution control measures, non-adherence to the electric vehicles transition and failure to promote renewables.  From being a country championing the global green cause in 2022 to now “ignominiously slipping down the environmental performance ladder” should certainly raise alarm bells for our current green policy makers, warned Aslam.

The 2022 floods, which should have acted as a wake-up call for the government, he said, failed to move the government towards preparedness and improving the health of the environment.

Maha Qasim, CEO of Zero-Point Partners, an environmental management and consulting firm, said: “No significant effort had been made in building climate-resilient infrastructure like roads, drainage systems and flood management facilities like levees or reservoirs.

The EPI has pointed towards Pakistan’s use of coal as a driver.

Putting things in perspective, Qasim said that in 2021, only around 14% of Pakistan’s energy mix was based on coal, while it figured 45 percent and 63 percent in India’s and Estonia’s energy mix. But in the last two years, Pakistan’s overall GHG emissions as well as CO2 have declined, due to “Pakistan’s overall performance capita emissions from fossil fuels and industry have declined due to stagnant economic growth,” she said.

Thus, Pakistan is well within its carbon budget and has met its Nationally Determined Contribution commitments to the UNFCCC.

The updated NDCs of 2021 have pledged to reduce emissions by 50%, shifting to renewable energy by 60 percent and 30 percent to electric vehicles by 2030, and a complete ban on importing coal.

Poor transport fuel regulations, old and inefficient vehicles on the road, mass cutting down of trees to make way for rapid urbanization, burning of agricultural residue and poor solid waste management have also been mentioned for Pakistan’s poor score.

Aslam, however, said the index failed to “register or recognize” Pakistan’s efforts on reforestation—the Billion Tree Tsunami Afforestation Project in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, followed by 10 Billion Tree Tsunami Programme across the country. “The EPI ranking can certainly enhance its acceptability and credibility by improving these areas,” he said.

Weak Governance

Sobia Kapadia, a humanitarian aid practitioner, added factors like “weak governance, turning to fire-fighting and ad-hoc measures” whenever a climate crisis arises, thereby destroying the symbiosis.

“Heat, rain and floods are all connected to the core issue of human-induced development; but blaming heat and humidity on climate change is like blaming the naughtiest child,” said Kapadia, citing resorts being constructed in the mountains by cutting trees.

In yet another recent report that gives insights to investors and helps governments in setting carbon market-friendly policies, Pakistan comes 39th out of 40 countries.

Khalid Waleed, an energy economics expert at the Sustainable Development Policy Institute (SDPI), was quoted by media saying “for the first time in budget history, the government has tagged projects worth Rs53 billion under climate change adaptation and Rs225 billion under climate change mitigation,” referring to the budget presented earlier this month. However, he added that the budget was not climate change project-specific but had been tagged for their climate benefits.

Zia ul Islam finds the budget allocation “rather tricky” to understand as it not only indicates development projects from the Ministry of Planning Development & Special Initiatives, but foreign-funded projects and projects under various ministries and provinces.

Environmental and public policy analyst Dawar Butt, comparing the country’s miniscule environmental spending to India and Bangladesh, said climate did not seem to be a priority. He further added that the climate change allocation has been “cut down by one billion rupees from what finally got approved in this year’s budget.”

Handling Climate Change on Piecemeal Basis

But it is not just how the government is handling climate change. Referring to a climate risk awareness survey conducted by GIZ Pakistan, Qasim highlighted that while many organizations are beginning to acknowledge the impact of climate change on their business models, their approach towards dealing with it was “incomplete and fragmented with a focus on climate mitigation” to meet external requirements of clients or regulators rather than on long-term business sustainability.

Due to the funding fatigue, Zia ul Islam suggested the “begging attitude” may be replaced by capacity building of concerned authorities, bringing in necessary improvements in the legal instruments and effective implementation.”

Good News

If Pakistan can somehow link smooth governance with climate finance and showcase to the world that it can fund its own climate solutions, it will give local and international companies the confidence to invest in the country. This year’s Financing Climate Action  report by Transparency International states Pakistan has a huge potential to “dollarize climate adaptive and mitigative projects” provided climate governance is improved.

Flood insurance initiatives for farmers, for example, said Qasim, at very low markup rates, have the potential to be “scaled up across the country to increase flood resilience.”

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A sewer worker who is popularly known as Mithoo emerges from the sewer. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Jun 12 2024 (IPS)

A dark head emerges, followed by the torso. The balding man heaves himself up, hands on the sides of the manhole, as he is helped by two men. Gasping for breath, the man, who seems to be in his late 40s, sits on the edge, wearing just a pair of dark pants, the same color as the putrid swirling water he comes out from.

This is an all-too-familiar sight in Karachi, with its over 20 million residents producing 475 million gallons per day (MGD) of wastewater going into decades-old crumbling sewerage-systems. 

After over a hundred dives into the sewers in the last two years, Adil Masih, 22, says, “I have proved to my seniors, I can do the job well.” He hopes to be upgraded from a kachha (not formally employed) to a pucca (permanent) employee at Karachi’s government-owned Karachi Water and Sewerage Company (KWSC), formerly known as the Karachi Water and Sewerage Board and is commonly referred to as the water board, in the next six months.

Earning Rs 25,000 (USD 90) a month, which Adil gets as a lump sum of Rs75,000 (USD 269) every three months, the pay will rise to Rs 32,000 (USD 115), which is the minimum wages in Sindh province set by the government once he becomes pucca.

Sewer work is dirty but essential work in a busy city like Karachi. A worker popularly known as Mithoo rests after unblocking sewage. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim/IPS

“The first time is always the most terrifying experience,” recalls Amjad Masih, 48, sporting a metallic earring in his left lobe. Among the 2,300 sewer cleaners under the employment of the KWSC, to do manual scavenging to unclog the drains, he claims to have taught Adil the dos and donts of diving into the slush. “You have to be smart to outdo death, which is our companion as we go down,” he says.

It is not the army of cockroaches and the stink that greets you when you open the manhole lid to get in, or the rats swimming in filthy water, but the blades and used syringes floating that are a cause for concern for many as they go down to bring up the rocks and the buckets of filthy silt.

But getting into the sewers is a last resort. “We first try to unclog the line using a long bamboo shaft to prod and loosen the waste, when that fails, we climb down into the gutters and clean them with our hands,” explains Amjad, employed with the water and sanitation company since 2014, and becoming permanent in 2017.

Toxic cauldron

Although the civic agency claims the workers are provided personal protective equipment to shield them from chemical, physical and microbial hazards, many, like Amjad, refuse to wear it.

“I need to feel the rocks and stones with my feet to be able to bring them up,” he says. “Nothing happens,” adds Adil. “We go to the doctor for treatment and are back at work.”

A former KWSC official, speaking to IPS on condition of anonymity, said there have been several deaths and injuries. “It is up to the supervisors to ensure they only send men down the manhole who comply with safety regulations.” He said the protective gear must include gas masks, ladders, and gloves as the “bare minimum,” as there are definite health risks as well as the risk of losing your life.

More than the physical hazards, it is the invisible danger stalking these men, in the form of gases like methane, carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide and nitrous oxide—produced when wastewater contains chlorine bleaches, industrial solvents and gasoline—when mixed with concrete in drainpipes—that have taken the lives of these cleaners.

Earlier in March, two young sanitation workers, Arif Moon Masih, 25, and Shan Masih, 23, died after inhaling toxic fumes in Faisalabad, in the Punjab province. In January, two workers in Karachi met with a similar fate while cleaning sewerage lines.

According to Sweepers Are Superheroes, an advocacy campaign group, around 84 sewage workers have died in 19 districts of Pakistan over the past five years. In neighboring India, one sewer worker dies every five days, according to a 2018 report by the National Commission for Safai Karamcharis.

“I had almost died once,” recalls Amjad, of how he got “gassed” and passed out. “Luckily for me, I did the job and came up and then collapsed.”

But there have been quite a few of his colleagues, he says, who have died due to inhalation while still inside.

Adil said he has inhaled gases quite a few times too. “My eyes burn, and when I come out, I vomit and drink a bottle of cold fizzy drink and am set again,” he said. But the last time it happened, he had to be hospitalized as he had passed out.

With time, says Amjad, they have learned to take precautions.

“We open the manhole lid to let the gases escape before going in,” he says. A dead rat floating on the surface is a giveaway that there are gases, he adds.

The KWSC cleaners work as a team of four. One is sent down wearing a harness tied to a rope. If something is not right or he’s done the job, he tugs at the rope, and the three men waiting outside immediately pull him out. But the man is pulled out after three to four minutes have elapsed without waiting for the tug “in case he has become unconscious,” explains Amjad. He claims to be able to hold his breath for as long as five minutes because “I have to sometimes go as deep as 30 feet.” Adil is only able to do a maximum of seven feet and hold his breath for no more than two minutes, but the gases are found in shallower drains. Along with buckets of silt, the drains are often clogged with stones and boulders that need to be brought up, to allow the water to flow freely.

Amjad and Adil also take on private work, like the rest of the KWSC sanitation workers. The agency knows but looks the other way. “If they can get earn a little extra, it is ok,” says the officer.

“We are called to open up blocked drains by residents and restaurant management and for a couple hours of work, we are able to earn well,” says Adil.

Adil Masih and Amjad Masih work in the sewers of Karachi, a dangerous and low-paying occupation. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim/IPS

Janitorial work reserved for Christians

Adil and Amjad are unrelated but carry the same surname—Masih—which points to their religion—both are Christians. According to WaterAid Pakistan, 80 percent of sanitation workers in Pakistan are Christians, despite them making up just 2 percent of the general population according to the 2023 census. The report Shame and Stigma in Sanitation, published by the Center for Law & Justice (CLJ) in 2021, connects sanitation work to the age-old caste system prevalent in the Indian sub-continent that attached birth to occupations.

“This ruthless practice has died down to a large extent in Pakistan, but sanitation is probably the only occupation where this traditional caste structure continues,” it points out.

The CLJ’s report carries a survey of the employees of the Water and Sanitation Agency (WASA), which provides drinking water and ensures the smooth working of the sewerage systems, and the Lahore Waste Management Company (LWMC), which is tasked with collecting and disposing of solid waste from households, industries and hospitals in Lahore city, in the Punjab province. WASA has 2,240 sanitation workers, out of which 1,609 are Christians. The LWMC has 9,000 workers and all of them are Christians. 87 percent of the employees in both organizations believed “janitorial work is only for Christians,” while 72 percent of Christian workers said their Muslim coworkers “believe that this work is not for them.”

The same is true for Karachi as well. Till about five years ago, the KWSC would advertise for the job of sewer cleaners, specifically asking for non-Muslims but stopped after receiving criticism from rights groups.

“We removed this condition and started hiring Muslims for the cleaning of sewers, but they refuse to go down the sewers,” said the KWSC official. In Punjab province, the discriminatory policy of employing only non-Muslims belonging to minorities for janitorial work was struck down in 2016.

With half of Karachi being dug and new drainage lines being laid, much of the work is being carried out by Pathans (Muslims belonging to an ethnic group) and, until last year, by Afghans too. “They are wading in the same filthy water,” says Amjad.

He got a much more lucrative job—working as a sweeper in an apartment building and earning more.

“Being a permanent employee with a government department means lifelong security; the job is for keeps,” he explains. “And on a day-to-day basis too, life is slightly easier. You are not harassed by the police, get sick leave and free healthcare, and there are retirement benefits too, and you cannot be kicked out on any one person’s whim.”

Way Forward

But Amjad and Adil’s work and how they are treated by their employers are in complete contrast to what the Pakistani government has signed under the Sustainable Development Goals, especially Goal 8—of improving the working conditions of sanitation workers. It also seems unlikely that targets 8.5 “full employment and decent work with equal pay” and 8.8 “protect labour rights and promote safe working environments” will be met by 2030.

Farah Zia, the director of the independent Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, talking to IPS, pointed out that Pakistan had made little progress in meeting the criteria for decent work for sanitation workers, considered amongst the most “marginalized labour groups in Pakistan’s workforce.”

Not being “paid a living wage or to live in an environment free of social stigma,” Zia said they were not even provided ample safety equipment and training to protect themselves from occupational hazards. In addition, she pointed out that the 2006 National Sanitation Policy was outdated and fell “short of addressing these concerns.”

The same was observed in Sindh province, where Amjad and Adil live. “Although the Sindh government had adopted a provincial sanitation policy in 2017, it did not address the concerns related to the working and living conditions of these workers in the province,” Zia pointed out

In 2021, in line with SDG 8, WaterAid Pakistan (WAP) worked with the local government in the Punjab province’s Muzaffargarh district to ensure the safety of sanitation workers. Apart from provision of safety equipment and access to clean drinking water, the organization advocated that these “essential workers receive the respect and dignity they deserve,” said Muhammad Fazal, heading the Strategy and Policy Programme of the WAP.

Naeem Sadiq, a Karachi-based industrial engineer and a social activist who has long been fighting for the rights of these men has calculated the highest and lowest salaries in the public sector.

“The ratio of the salary of a janitor to the senior most bureaucrat in the UK is 1:8, while in Pakistan it is 1:80. The ratio of the salary of a janitor to the senior-most judge in the UK is 1:11, while in Pakistan it is 1:115. The ratio between the salary of a janitor and the heads of the highest-paid public sector organizations in the UK is 1:20, while in Pakistan it is 1:250,” he told IPS.

Sadiq wants a complete ban on manual scavenging. “I don’t know how we let our fellow men enter a sewer bubbling with human waste and poisonous gases,” he tells IPS, adding, “We need machines to do this dirty, dangerous work.”

The KWSC has 128 mobile tanker-like contraptions equipped with suctional jetting machines that remove the water from the sewers so that cleaners can go down a 30-foot manhole without having to dive into it to remove silt, timber and stones that cannot be sucked out and have to be brought up manually,’’ said the KWSC official.

That is not good enough for Sadiq. A year ago, he and a group of philanthropists came up with a prototype of a simple gutter-cleaning machine (using the motorbike’s skeleton), which he claims is the cheapest one in the world, costing Rs 1.5 million (USD 5,382).

“It can be sent deep into the sewer to bring up stones, rocks, sludge and silt, and a high-pressure jetting contraption to unclog the lines.”

It is now up to the government to use the design and start manufacturing the contraption called Bhalai (kindness, benefit). “We are absolutely willing to share the design,” said Sadiq.

Note: This article is brought to you by IPS Noram in collaboration with INPS Japan and Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with ECOSOC.

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The Iranian/Pakistani gas pipeline likely to top agenda for the visit of Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi to Pakistan. The visit takes place in an atmosphere of renewed tensions in the Middle East and a threat of US sanctions. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Apr 21 2024 (IPS)

When Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi visits Pakistan this week (April 22, 2024), experts say the two issues topmost on his mind that he will want to discuss with his Pakistani counterpart, President Asif Ali Zardari, will be border security and the Iran-Pakistan gas pipeline.

“This visit comes at the most troubling time for the region,” said Senator Mushaid Hussain Sayed, chairman of the Islamabad-based Pakistan-China Institute, pointing to the war in Gaza and the resurgence of terrorism from Afghanistan, which borders both Pakistan and Iran. Added tension comes after retaliatory strikes by Israel and Iran. A suspected Israeli strike on an Iranian consulate in Syria at the beginning of the month was followed by a retaliatory attack by Iran on Israel on April 13. US officials say Israel responded, despite a plea by UN Secretary-General António Guterres for restraint. 

The gas pipeline will be an uneasy conversation to hold for Zardari, but with the lives and livelihoods of over 240 million Pakistanis tied to this fuel, finding a solution is of paramount importance for the rulers.

Hassan Nourain, consul general of Iran.

Pakistan needs gas more for residential, commercial, and industrial purposes now than for power generation, said energy expert Vaqar Zakaria, heading the Islamabad-based Hagler Bailley Pakistan, the environment consultancy company.

“Domestic consumers will be the immediate beneficiaries from the Iranian gas supply,” agreed leading sustainable development practitioner Abid Suleri, heading the Islamabad-based Sustainable Development Policy Institute. He also said the country’s economy will flourish manifold if the industry receives a steady supply of this gas.

Zakaria had been part of the negotiations some 25 years ago, in the 1990s, when conversation on importing gas from Iran through an Iran-Pakistan gas pipeline first started due to the fact that “our gas reserves were fast depleting because we were using up this finite resource as if there was no tomorrow. People would leave the stove on for hours instead of turning off the gas,” Zakaria said, blaming the lackadaisical attitude of the people and the visionless government policy of selling it at “dirt cheap rates to keep the voters happy.”

There was a third partner, India, which decided to exit in 2009, “citing pricing and security issues, and after signing a civilian nuclear deal with the United States in 2008,” Zakaria recalled.

“Iran has huge energy reserves such as crude oil and natural gas and is ready to meet the needs of friendly and neighboring countries,” said Hassan Nourain, the consul general of Iran in Karachi, in an interview to IPS. In 2021, it was estimated that Iran had close to 1,203 trillion cubic feet of natural gas, the second largest after Russia.

Pakistan and Iran continued negotiating, and on May 24, 2009, the project was signed by the Pakistani president, Asif Ali Zardari, and the Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, for the supply of gas ranging from 750 million ft3/d to around 1 billion ft3/d, for 25 years, from the South Pars gas field in Iran and delivered at the Pakistan-Iran border, near Gwadar.

The project, having a pipeline length of 1,150-km within Iran and 781-km within Pakistan, was to be constructed by each country in their respective territories. Iran completed its side of pipeline construction by 2012 and was ready to transport gas to Pakistan by 2015, the Nourain said. Pakistan did not start until 2013.

A year later, in 2014, Pakistan’s petroleum minister, Shahid Khaqan Abbasi, told the Iranian government that due to sanctions on Iran, banks and contractors were unwilling to go ahead with the project on Pakistan’s side.

Natural Gas Consumption

Natural gas situation in Pakistan.

Ten years later, Pakistan is toying with the idea of building the pipeline again and in February of this year, Pakistan’s caretaker government approved the construction of the first 80-kilometer stretch from the Iranian border to Gwadar in Balochistan.

Donald Lu, US Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asia, immediately censured Pakistan for its plans to import gas from Iran, as it would expose Pakistan to US sanctions.

“If a neighbor is giving us gas at competitive rates, then it is our right [to buy it],” Pakistan’s Defense Minister Khawaja Muhammad Asif told the media earlier this month.

“The threat of these unilateral sanctions imposed on Iran by the US is illegal,” said Nourain. “In 2006, the United Nations Security Council demanded Iran halt its uranium enrichment programme and imposed certain sanctions but after monitoring it, in 2016, most sanctions were lifted for at least ten years.”

But, pointed out Arif Anwar, an international development practitioner: “The US is entitled to do what it wants with USAID and or any banks, businesses and insurance companies that operate in the US. The sanctions on Iran and on countries trading with it have been around for decades and may even have some UN legitimacy cover.”

Moreover, warned Anwar, given that Pakistan needs support from the International Monetary Fund, which would also require US support, “Pakistan needs to tread a careful path.”

“Pakistan needs gas,” said Lahore-based lawyer Ahmad Rafay Alam, terming the US warning “an unfair US policy.”

“The pipeline is pivotal for Pakistan’s energy independence,” pointed out Sayed. “It cuts costs as it is 40 percent less than imported LNG (liquefied natural gas),” he said.

“The US no longer has the moral authority to impose sanctions on either Iran or Pakistan if both countries exercise their sovereignty and agree to buy and sell anything to one another, not after its support of the Gaza genocide,” Alam said, echoing the sentiments of a vast majority of the South Asian nation of over 240 million that remain staunch supporters of Palestine.

Some analysts believe that the Pakistani population will benefit from a steady supply of gas. This photo was taken at the LPG filling station in Clifton, Karachi. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

But, said Anwar, the Pakistani government needs to reflect on how it arrived at this difficult predicament. “The sanctions against Iran were in place well before the contract was signed. Why didn’t the government insert suitable safeguards in the contract?” and then responded to his own question: “Because political expediency takes priority.”

He was referring to the quandary that Pakistan is in right now—if it does not build the pipeline, Iran can slap a fine of USD 18 billion. The deadline expires in September this year. And if it goes ahead, the US may place sanctions on Pakistan.

“The government of Pakistan asked Iran to extend the timeline in 2014 for ten years and that expires this year,” the Nourain pointed out.

Seeking Waivers

However, there is one option left for Pakistan. “We start with the Pakistani side of the pipeline, and in the meantime, we officially seek a waiver as well,” offers Sayed.

Former Law and Justice Minister Ahmad Irfan Aslam said taking the diplomatic route and seeking support from Saudi Arabia and the UAE may secure Pakistan a waiver, but warned: “In return, the US will have its own set of demands.” It will mean treading smartly and “constructing a package that works for both sides,” he told IPS.

But with the hostile US-Iran relations, Michael Kugelman, director of the Wilson Center’s South Asia Institute in Washington, said Washington may not be in a charitable mood with countries engaging commercially with Iran.

“It won’t be inclined to give Pakistan a sanctions waiver,” he said.

“Some countries are allowed to import gas and petroleum products from Iran; why can’t Pakistan get the waiver?” countered the Nourain.

China, Greece, Italy, South Korea, Japan, Turkey, Iraq, and Taiwan were given waivers by the US in the past for importing oil from Iran but not extended beyond April 2019, leading to a significant drop in Iran’s oil exports. However, China has continued to import Iranian crude oil and has made it clear that it is not willing to comply with US sanctions against Iran.

“The US applies a double standard,” said Nourain, adding: “When the US warns Pakistan of sanctions, it is not on the government, but on the people of Pakistan.”

“We should insist on the same rules for Pakistan as there are for others regarding importing energy from Iran,” Sayed said.

The US mission in the country told IPS that Pakistan has not requested a waiver.

But if Pakistan pursues the pipeline project, Zakaria pointed out that it may find it difficult to look for funders.

Kugelman believed Beijing could be wooed, but Moscow could also be an option. “With Russia enjoying friendly relations with Iran, if the former can help Pakistan on this, Pakistan-Russia relations will also gather strength,” he added.

Anwar had an alternative perspective. “If countries can engage their private sector for space travel, surely Pakistan can do it for a gas pipeline,” he said. “The agreement may be government-to-government but the private sector could manage construction and operation,” he said. “The government should not try everything itself, but rather create an environment for the private sector to invest and deliver goods and services.”

Or, pointed out Kugelman, “Pakistan may focus more attention on legal avenues that bring down the risk of facing a massive fine if it doesn’t end up building it.” He admitted that none of the options were good or easy. “It’s one more policy conundrum for a new government grappling with plenty of them.”

Imported Gas or Domestic Renewables?

Pakistan is getting LNG at USD 13/MMBTu through long-term contracts, while the spot market is currently trending around USD 8/MMBTu. So, Pakistan should negotiate firmly with Iran on pricing to buy it at a “considerably cheaper price for it to make sense for Pakistan to build the pipeline and transport the gas across Pakistan,” said Haneea Isaad, energy finance specialist at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis (IEEFA).

And with predictions of a “supply glut” from 2025 onwards, she pointed out, the price of LNG is expected to continue the downward trend.

Suleri had the same advice. “Securing affordable LNG, irrespective of its source, is Pakistan’s best bet.”

However, Isaad warned that an unprecedented hot or cold spell in Europe and East Asia may “lead to a hike in LNG prices right back in and should be factored in.”

Others ask that if Iran goes off the charts again, perhaps Pakistan can look to Central Asia for supplies of natural gas, to which the US should have no objections. Last year, Islamabad and Ashgabat signed a joint implementation plan to revive the Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan-India gas pipeline project, which aims to export up to 33 billion cubic meters of natural gas per year through a proposed approximately 1,800-kilometer pipeline from Turkmenistan to India. “TAPI will not take off until Afghanistan and India do not come on board, and frankly, in the current geopolitical mess that we’re in, this is not going to happen anytime soon,” said Suleri.

With the challenge of ensuring a steady supply of gas at an affordable price and the looming threats of sanctions and penalties from Iran, Suleri also reminded us that Pakistan’s pledge to shift to 60 percent renewable energy by 2030 was just six years away.

“We can switch to solar water heating in homes, like it is done in Kathmandu, instead of using natural gas, with backup electric water heating when the weather is cloudy,” suggested Zakaria. Electricity can also be generated in homes using solar panels, he added. “And instead of expanding the gas network to smaller towns at a high cost, LPG (liquefied petroleum gas) can be cross-subsidized with gas to provide cleaner fuel to houses at an affordable price.”

“Pakistan should look into investing in REs,” agreed Suleri, but pointed out that it may not be commercially viable to supply at a scale that meets the country’s requirements.

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Farmer Samir Bordoloi showing a tea bud as he stands amidst his tea shrubs. He cultivates various crops such as turmeric, jackfruit, papaya and king chilies on nearly 12 acres of land. Bordoloi calls himself a “compassionate farmer”, and believes in zero tillage, no pesticides and chemical fertilizers. Credit: Sanskrita Bharadwaj/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim and Sanskrita Bharadwaj
KARACHI, Pakistan & GUWAHATI, India, Mar 29 2024 (IPS)

Nine years ago, farmer Sultan Ahmed Bhatti gave up tilling the soil and using most fertilizers and pesticides on his farm in Doober Bhattian, Pakistan.

His brothers at first derided him. But soon, his first experiment with growing wheat on raised beds was a runaway success. “We produced more wheat than what we grew on ploughed, flat land,” he said.

Today, researchers, climate experts, and agriculture students visit his 100-acre farm, where he grows wheat, rice, maize, sugarcane, and vegetables, to see how he is able to reap bumper crops with minimal input costs.

The magic is in the soil, says Bhatti, picking up a fistful of soil in his calloused hand. “It’s all about respecting the soil that treats you so well.”

Bhatti is among a small but growing segment of farmers across Pakistan and India pursuing regenerative farming techniques. It’s part of a global movement to make agriculture more sustainable by increasing soil health through cutting back on chemicals, adding organic material to soil, and diversifying plants and animals on the farm.

Experts see Regenerative Farming as a Climate Solution

Sultan Ahmed Bhatti discussing his farming techniques with visitors. Photo credit: Sukheki farms of Sultan Ahmed Bhatti

Farmer Sultan Ahmed Bhatti’s first experiment of growing wheat on raised but measured beds on one acre of land was a runway success. “We produced more wheat than what we grew on ploughed, flat land,” he said. Credit: Sukheki farms of Sultan Ahmed Bhatti

“Changing agricultural practices is the most straightforward way to benefit the planet’s health while ensuring food security in the long term,” said Francesco Carnevale Zampaolo, programme director at SRI-2030, a UK-based global organization that promotes eco-friendly farming to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and enhance carbon sequestration.

Bio-agriculture scientist Dr. Farooq-e-Azam, based in Faisalabad, Pakistan, has been promoting these methods since the early 1970s. He thinks that regenerative agriculture might be the key to addressing food insecurity and reducing intensive farming’s role in causing human-induced land degradation.

But there is no one-size-fits-all formula for transitioning to regenerative agriculture. It may require a different set of farming approaches depending on the soil type, weather conditions, and biodiversity. But generally, it means applying a range of techniques to restore the soil’s health.

Ways of restoring the soil include adding crop residue, composted manure, and natural rock minerals, says Azam, director of the Research and Development unit at US-based Bontera BioAg.

Illustration by Kulsum Ebrahim

Indian Farmers Turning to Nature for Solutions

The same is happening across the border, in India, too, where more farmers are shifting to a natural way of farming.

More than two decades ago, Samir Bordoloi quit his government job to become a farmer. Now, Bordoloi cultivates crops such as turmeric, jackfruit, papaya, and king chilies on nearly 12 acres of land in Sonapur, about 30 km from Guwahati, a city in northeast India. The once-derelict ground that Bordoloi took on lease is a flourishing food forest today.

Bordoloi uses zero tillage and no pesticides or chemical fertilizers. Among other innovative techniques, Bordoloi scatters “seed bombs” on his land and lets them germinate naturally. For example, he plucks uniform sized ripened chilies and keeps them aside for seven days.

“Then we slice and take out their seeds and cover them with a mixture made of biochar, cow dung and bamboo, which is then shaped into a ball.”

Is Conventional Farming Sustainable?

Conventional farming in India and Pakistan has taken a toll on agricultural land. Around 30 percent of the land in India is degraded, according to the National Bureau of Soil Survey and Land Use Planning. More than 50 percent of India’s farmers are debt-ridden, according to the 2019 National Statistical Office, and often seek alternatives outside of agriculture, or tragically, take their own lives.

In Pakistan, almost three-fourths of the land is degraded, according to Pakistan’s climate change ministry.

“Droughts, floods, deforestation, overgrazing, monoculture farming, excessive tillage, and the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides are the most glaring causes of land degradation on both sides of the fence,” said Dr. Aamer Irshad, head of programme at the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, in Pakistan.

Dr. Vinod K. Chaudhary, an associate professor of sociology at Punjab University in Chandigarh, India, who is also a farmer, said farming methods in both countries are unsustainable.

While researching sustainable farming, he came across videos on YouTube and Facebook put up by Asif Sharif, a progressive farmer from Pakpattan, across the border in Pakistan’s Punjab province. “I learned plants require moisture, not water, which was the most difficult to believe, as we farmers believe in inundation.”

He also learned that soil should be covered, not tilled. Chaudhary decided to try Sharif’s techniques and found they worked well. Now he encourages farmers in Indian Punjab and Haryana to try them.

“The soil resets itself with this kind of farming,” Chaudhary said.

Experimenting and finding solutions

Regenerative farmers are experimenting and spreading the word.

Mahmood Nawaz Shah, a third-generation progressive farmer with 600 acres of farmland in Tando Allah Yar district of Sindh province, Pakistan, has adopted regenerative agricultural techniques “through hit and trial and finding solutions” now for 25 years.

Shah controls fruit flies on his 45-acre mango orchards through pheromone traps and lets parasites that eat borers loose in the sugarcane field.

“This allows us to delay pesticide sprays as late as possible as well as increase the intervals between two sprays,” he explains.

Shah also uses farmyard manure from livestock, grows peas, cauliflower, and black cumin amid 145 acres of sugarcane crop, and adds mineral-rich silt to his land.

“It has all been a gradual and experimental process,” he says.

Dhaniram Chetia, a farmer in the village of Pengeri in Tinsukia, in India’s Assam state, found an innovative way to keep insects off his harvest: He grows papaya, tomatoes, and bananas on 30 percent of his eight acres of land to feed the local birds.

“The birds eat the pests that would otherwise prey on my cash crops. I don’t need to use insecticides,” he says.

Bordoloi in Assam says elephants have helped in turmeric farming.

“Elephants stamp on our turmeric plants, cut out the thatch and consume the green elephant grass after the rains; we barely need any labour,” he added.

Heaps of highly nutritious farmyard manure and silt from the river are spread to enrich and stabilize the soil’s pH levels, says Mahmood Nawaz Shah. Credit: Mahmood Nawaz Shah/IPS

Sugarcane waste, which otherwise was often burned, causing greenhouse gas emissions, is used to nourish the soil at Mahmood Nawaz Shah’s (right) farm. Credit: Mahmood Nawaz Shah/IPS

The once derelict ground that Bordoloi took on lease is now a flourishing food forest today in Sonapur, about 30 km from Guwahati city in Assam, India. Credit: Sanskrita Bharadwaj/IPS

Does Regenerative Agriculture Live up to the Hype?

It’s hard to find definitive data on regenerative agriculture. Organic farming data may come closest. India has up to 2.66 million ha of agricultural land under organic farming, according to the The World of Organic Agriculture 2023 yearbook, which places India among “countries with the most organic producers” alongside Uganda and Ethiopia. However, the data given by India’s department of agriculture and farmers welfare puts natural farming at just 0.65 million hectares.

In Pakistan, the area under naturally organic agriculture in the country is about 1.51 million ha, or about 6% of all agricultural land, according to the Pakistan Organic Association, while land certified to be cultivated organically is just 64,885 hectares. “The government has not realized the virtues of this kind of farming and there is a complete absence of government policies and practices, particularly for organic food regulations and certification,” pointed out Dr. Hasan Ali Mughal, founder of POA.

Further, 10 percent of the landlords in Pakistan own 52 percent of the land, where they prefer to carry out monocropping of wheat and rice, said the FAO spokesperson, Irshad. He predicted that regenerative agriculture “cannot become mainstream in Pakistan” due to poor soil conditions.

But soil revival using solutions from nature takes time, says Mohammad Zaman, 47, a farmer from Tando Jan Mohammad of Pakistan’s Sindh province’s Mirpur Khas district. He met with some initial resistance from his father when he decided to adopt a more “natural” way of farming on their 30 acres of mango orchards in 2017. But he has, so far, spared his 400 or so mango trees from all kinds of insecticides, fungicides, and pesticides. “I sell online and I’ve realized there is a growing demand for chemical-free fruits among consumers,” he said.

Seven years later, he is most satisfied. “I could not have chosen a better path for farming,” he said, as the soil fertility is even better than when his father was farming. He also grows ber, or Indian jujube, following the same principles.

“My water application is reduced by 50 percent as the dead and live mulch cover keeps the land moist,” said Zaman, who also grows sugarcane and bananas. “We broke the myth that sugarcane and bananas are water guzzlers,” he said. He, however, uses fertilizer on the banana crop “sparingly” but intends to wean it off in two years.

This was endorsed by Indira Singh, lead at the School for Environment and Sustainability at the Indian Institute for Human Settlement (IIHS), in Bengaluru.

“Getting soil rejuvenation may take a little more time, but eventually, as the soil microbiomes bloom, they will see change, which will lead to a sustainable solution,” she said.

Looking for Larger Solutions

Graphic credit: IPS

Graphic credit: IPS

Some would like to see more government support for regenerative farming.

Shah, currently the president of the Sindh Abadgar Board, an organisation of agriculturists in Sindh, said farmers are not being prepared for adapting to climate change and are not provided with solutions to counter those challenges.

Islamabad-based Dr. M. Azeem Khan, former chairman of the Pakistan Agriculture Research Council, agreed. The governments, he said, will need to modify existing farm equipment, build new ones, and make them available, as most small farmers cannot afford them. Further, the state will need to build the technical capacity of its extension workers, who can not only convince but also train farmers to give up their “old ways” and to let nature take its course.

“Seeing is believing; only then will farmers accept change,” Khan said.

Khan said cheaper electricity, like solar, surety to procure produce, provision of timely and subsidized inputs, repair and maintenance of farm machinery, and an effective advocacy system focusing on how to move towards regenerative and environment-friendly agricultural practices would help.

“At the outset, the change may be costly,” but it is possible, he said.

Notes: This story was part of a cross-border reporting workshop organized by the U.S.-based East-West Center.
This feature is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.

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Excerpt:

The Sessions Court in Gujranwala where Junaid Munir was sentenced to death. Credit: Ehtisham Shami/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Mar 20 2024 (IPS)

Justice Zafar Yab Chadhar’s March 6 order sentencing 22-year-old Junaid Munir to ‘be hanged by his neck till he is dead’ on charges of sharing blasphemous material over WhatsApp was devastating for his family.

“The earth moved from underneath my feet,” is how 57-year-old Chaudhry Munir Hussain, Munir’s father, described his feelings as he heard the judge read out the judgment that day in a court in Gujranwala, a city in Punjab province.

“My daughter [who had accompanied Hussain to the court] collapsed and fell down on the floor there and then,” said Hussain, adding, “She was unable to sit for her civil services examination,” that was taking place around the time. He was talking from Tokyo, where he is staying. He has lived between Pakistan and Japan for the past 30 years, running an “import-export car business in Japan.” But this time he had fled Pakistan, believing his life was under threat.

Blasphemy is an offense with an unwaivable death penalty but is notoriously known to be used to carry out personal vendettas.

To date, no one has been executed, yet scores continue to be convicted and then languish in jail. Data provided by the Centre for Social Justice (CSJ) shows there are 587 prisoners in various jails across Punjab. Among these, 515 are under trial, including 508 male, six female, and one juvenile prisoner, all confined under blasphemy.

The momentum has gained. In 2023 alone, said CSJ, at least 329 people were accused of blasphemy. Of these, 247 (75%) were Muslims, 65 Ahmadis (the Pakistani constitution has declared them non-Muslims), 11 Christians, and one Hindu. The religious affiliation of the remaining five remains unknown. Punjab was the most affected province, where 179 were accused.

At least 2,449 people had been accused of blasphemy between 1987 and 2023. The highest number of accused were 1,279 Muslims, followed by 782 Ahmadis. The highest number of cases (1770) were reported in Punjab (72%), according to the CSJ.

The signed and stamped ‘warrant’ on Munir, sent to the superintendent in Gujranwala’s Central Prison by the judge, quoted here verbatim, states videos and photographs showed “writing most sacred name of the Holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and the kalma [declaration to Islam] on sex part of human bodies with intention to defile the Holy name of the Holy Prophet (PBUH)”.

It added that it was done intentionally and deliberately with the intent to “outrage the religious feeling of Muslims”.

Outside Justice Zafar Yab Chadhar’s courtroom. Credit: Ehtisham Shami/IPS

The accusation perplexes Hussain.

“We are devout Muslims belonging to the Barelvi Sunni sect. There are verses etched at the entrance of my house, paying homage to Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him). For over 40 years, my family has been serving the neighborhood mosque and sweeping its floors, which we consider an honorable duty. We illuminate the entire lane every year to celebrate the Prophet’s birth. Do you think we would ever defame him?” Hussain tried to reason. He said his son has been falsely accused and framed on this serious charge. “I brook no enmity with anyone,” adding cautiously, “There are people who want to get hold of our property for a very long time.”

According to the community living in his village, Hussain belonged to a humble background, but his business picked up and he did extremely well, which may have caused jealousies.

“Still, I went to those who had accused my son, fell on their feet and apologized to them on behalf of my son if he had hurt their sentiments,” said Hussain. “I even got fatwas [ruling on a point of Islamic law] from different religious seminaries that said a person can be forgiven.”

“Wherever there is even a slight bit of doubt, confusion, or the case is not clear-cut, one should find a middle ground,” according to Hafiz Muhammad Tahir Mehmood Ashrafi, chairman of the Pakistan Ulema Council (PUC), talking over the phone from Islamabad. Over the years, the council has intervened in 103 out of 114 cases that have come to its attention, and the accused has been saved from the wrath of people.

Ashrafi had also been part of another high-profile case where Junaid Jamshed, a pop singer turned popular religious scholar, was accused of blasphemy but later acquitted.

Having seen the material sent allegedly by Munir, which he found “extremely obscene,” and being privy to the investigation, Ashrafi said, “The FIA [Federal Investigation Agency] had investigated this thoroughly and I don’t think anyone is framing the boy.”

“I would think the FIA should have the technical capacity and the resources to discern, decipher, and verify people who impersonate other people’s pages and carry out blasphemy, or deepfake and AI-generated content,” said Nighat Dad, heading the Digital Rights Foundation, adding her organization’s experience with the FIA’s cybercrime wing had shown they are adept at handling cyber harassment.

Munir, a first-year law student, was arrested on June 15, 2022, from Lahore by the FIA’s cybercrime wing, under anti-blasphemy laws in the Pakistan Penal Code, 1980. His case was later shifted to Gujranwala at the direction of the Lahore High Court, with explicit orders that the trial be completed within two months. But it took the court two years to convict him.

“The last two years have been like a thousand years for me,” said Hussain. “Our lives have been ruined by these cruel people.”

Munir has also been charged under cybercrime legislation, the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), 2016, termed a draconian law by human rights defenders.

Farieha Aziz, a cybercrime expert and co-founder of Bolo Bhi, an advocacy forum for digital rights, said: “Various sections of PECA 2016 criminalize speech in an excessive and overly broad manner and have been used routinely against journalists, academics, and political workers from time to time.” PECA, she said, has anti-speech, anti-privacy, and anti-Internet provisions.

“It is not uncommon for people to be booked for alleged blasphemy online,” said Aziz. We have seen how malicious online campaigns have been run against activists in the past, labelling them as blasphemers or pushing for them to be booked under the blasphemy law where no such offense has been committed but this is used to silence them by putting a target on a person’s back, which has offline consequences and endangers their life.”

Lawyer Mohammad Jibran Nasir and Dr Arfana Mallah, associate professors at the University of Sindh, in Jamshoro, have had their share of close calls for speaking in support of alleged blasphemers.

But the bigger concern, said Aziz, was that “accounts are hacked or impersonation accounts put out material” that is not by the accused. And even before that is established, the latter is booked.

“Expanding the use of blasphemy cases against people for what they say or share on social media is an invitation for witch hunts,” stated Patricia Gossman, Associate Asia Director at Human Rights Watch, in a dispatch. “The Pakistani government should amend and ultimately repeal its blasphemy laws, not further extend their scope online,” said the statement.

Dad admitted: “Technology can be extremely harmful, especially where the law enforcing agencies are not so well equipped.”

But this is not the first time.

In 2014, a Christian couple was sentenced to death for sending a blasphemous text message in English to their local cleric. The couple denied it, saying they were illiterate and did not know the language. In 2016, a Christian named Nadeem James was sentenced to death for sending a poem to a Muslim friend that insulted Islam and 30-year-old Taimoor Raza was sentenced to death after getting into a sectarian debate about Islam on Facebook with a man who was a counter-terrorism official.

Then there is the case of Junaid Hafeez, a lecturer at the Bahahuddin Zakariya University in Multan, a city in Punjab, who has been imprisoned since 2001 after being accused of uploading blasphemous material over Facebook by a student. His lawyer, Rashid Rehman, was murdered in 2014.

More recently, Aneeqa Atiq, 26, was sentenced to death by a court in Rawalpindi in 2022 for allegedly sharing blasphemous material via WhatsApp.

When not imprisoned, those who have been marked are often killed by the people. In 2017, Mashal Khan, a student at Abdul Wali Khan University in Mardan, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, was beaten to death by students accusing him of posting blasphemous material over social media. An investigation later proved he was innocent. Last year, seven people were killed extrajudicially. From 1994 to 2023, 95 people have been lynched.

“We’ve also seen campaigns targeting activists fighting for any change in the blasphemy law and know how lethal these can be, leading to the loss of lives, as we saw with Salman Taseer and Shahbaz Bhatti for proposing amendments and reforms to the country’s blasphemy laws,” said Aziz.

So far, only one person has ever been punished: Mumtaz Qadri, the bodyguard of Governor Salman Taseer for killing his employer. Qadri was hanged for killing the governor in 2016.

Earlier this month, in a brave attempt, a young policewoman, Shehrbano Naqvi, averted mob lynching of a woman wearing clothes that had Arabic calligraphy written on them, which people thought were verses from the Quran. Following the incident, the CSJ issued a statement calling for action to address “the flaws in the existing laws and looming religious intolerance.”

“My son is suffering from a very rare sickness called immune thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP), an autoimmune disorder,” implored the worried father. “He is just skin and bones under the khaki-colored jail uniform. It breaks my heart to see my child, who keeps insisting he is innocent,” said Hussain in a heavy voice. He said he is going to appeal his son’s sentence in the Lahore High Court this week.

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Assistant Superintendent of Police (ASP), Syeda Shehrbano Naqvi, saved a woman falsely accused of blasphemy. Credit: ASP Shehrbano Naqvi

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Mar 6 2024 (IPS)

Since the start of the year, there has been very little to celebrate for Pakistanis. Disrupted social media, escalating electricity, fuel, and food prices, and newly-held elections mired in controversy. But then, Assistant Superintendent of Police (ASP), Syeda Shehrbano Naqvi, did something that brightened the days of despair.

The 31-year-old’s courageous overture and foresight in the face of a potentially explosive situation have given Pakistan a reason to stand among the countries on this year’s Women’s Day with pride.

Naqvi rescued a woman, wearing a dress with Arabic calligraphy, from a frenzied mob from Lahore’s Ichhra Bazaar late last month (Sunday, February 25), who mistook it for verses from the Holy Quran and accused her of having committed blasphemy.

“There must be approximately 150–200 people by the time I reached the spot where this incident took place, around 1.45 pm,” said the police officer, talking to IPS over the phone from Lahore. She spoke to the mob with authority: “You should trust us [police],” she was heard shouting to the crowd on a video clip gone viral. Prior to her arrival, police from nearby police stations had also arrived to manage the situation.

“We had to act swiftly and get her out, as an angry mob in a close space can mean the situation getting out of control quickly,” she told IPS.

A black abayaa (a loose-fitted, long-sleeved robe worn by Muslim women) was arranged for the woman to cover her dress, which had ignited the sentiments in the first place, and her face completely covered to protect her identity when she was led out and whisked away in the police vehicle.

Following this incident, Manto, a clothing shop that uses a lot of calligraphic verses by poets and writers, put this notice on its social media pages. Credit: Manto

With permission from Masood Lohar, founder of the Clifton Urban Forest, who put up these AI-generated illustrations on his Facebook page. Credit: Masood Lohar/Facebook

Credit: Masood Lohar/Facebook

Naqvi knew exactly how to handle the situation, having dealt with similar situations in the past. But she admitted that the “five-minute walk to the police van was not without danger, despite the police forming a circle around us.”

Before the police arrived, videos posted on social media show a visibly terrified woman standing in the far corner of a restaurant with her hands covering half of her face.

The restaurant owner put his shutter down and locked it from inside to protect the woman, while others tried to calm the angry mob, who threatened to set the place on fire if the woman was not handed to them.

“Pakistanis spend so much of their time reading the Quran and reciting from it; then how can the simplest Arabic writing be mistaken for a holy verse?” asked Dr. Pervez Hoodbhoy, an Islamabad-based physicist and author, referring to rote learning of the holy book by majority Pakistanis. “This episode reveals that the ability to read a foreign language without understanding it achieves nothing.”

“Fighting pressure, numbers, and situations, you upheld both humanity and law; I thank you, and we are very proud of you,” said a press statement issued from the newly-elected chief minister of Punjab province, Maryam Nawaz’s office, commending officer Naqvi.

“Shehrbano Naqvi has set a new standard for the police force,” said young Pakistani activist Ammar Ali Jan, secretary general of the left-wing socialist party, Haqooq-e-Khalq Party.

“This is the way to stand up to a mob; it’s never happened before and it will set an example for others to take similar action,” he said, especially if she’s rewarded.

The Punjab police chief has recommended Naqvi for the Quaid-i-Azam Police Medal for her gallantry.

Jan said the incident should be looked at through a gender lens. “It has highlighted the need for more educated and qualified women to be inducted into the state apparatus.”

However, for many, what happened after the rescue has left a bad aftertaste.

ASP Shehrbano Naqvi put aside her own safety and came to the rescue of a woman falsely accused of blasphemy. Her bravery has been recognized and some of the people involved are now under investigation. Credit: ASP Shehrbano Naqvi

Conceding the policewoman put up a brave act and prevented it from getting ugly, Farah Zia, director of the independent Human Rights Commission of Pakistan asked: “Why was the rescued woman, under the same police watch, forced to seek forgiveness and declare herself to belong to the majority Sunni Muslim sect and thus can never think of doing anything to harm the sentiments of her fellow Muslims? Does it mean those belonging to minority faiths or sects can be expected to?”

Zia said it sent a signal that the government and the state are helpless and weak in the face of violent mobs.

The apology video, showing the woman sitting in between two bearded men who also put words in her mouth during the recording, was shot at the police station, but Naqvi insisted it had nothing to do with the police.

“It was decided between those nominated by the mob and the woman’s family that she would apologize,” clarified Naqvi and that the job of the police was just to “ensure law and order is maintained; there is no loss of life and no material damage.”

However, she added: “It is pertinent to remember that this incident either could have become a trauma in the life of the woman or we could have helped by placating the issue in a manner that puts an end to any further conversation that would ensue in the future. We decided to do the latter, despite criticism from various quarters. Given certain realities of our society, she now has a better chance of living a normal, healthy, and happy life,” pointed out Naqvi.

“The progressives among us may not like the tactical approach employed,” said Jan, referring to the apology coerced from the accused woman, but he explained: “The threat is real and potent, especially for someone who is marked.” He further added that the balance of forces in society is tipped in favour of extremists.

Hoodbhoy said the incident was reflective of an education system that “feeds religious fanaticism,” because of which Pakistani society and even its educated class have turned extremist.

“No longer can illiteracy alone be held responsible. The hyper-religiosity promoted through state institutions and the toxic education in our schools are not getting us admiration anywhere. Instead, it is producing a wild, uncontrollable population. Even our friends now fear us,” he lamented.

“Who in his right mind—apart from dedicated mountaineers—would want to vacation in a country where the population is ready to burst into flames at the slightest provocation?” he warned.

Blasphemy is punishable by death in Pakistan but as has often happened in the past, even before the case goes to trial, the accused is lynched.

According to the data collected by the Centre of Social Justice Pakistan, at least 329 people were allegedly accused of blasphemy in the year 2023.

“This is merely a list of cases reported in the press; the number can be higher than that,” Peter Jacob, executive director of CSJP, told IPS. Seven people were killed extrajudicially in 2023, he said.

At least 2,449 people have been accused of committing blasphemy between 1987 and 2023 and 95 people were killed extrajudicially between 1994 and 2023. No one has ever been punished except Mumtaz Qadri, who assassinated Punjab governor Salman Taseer in 2011.

Tahir Mehmood Ashrafi, chairman of the Pakistan Ulema Council (PUC), applauded the policewoman for showing immense courage in the face of such incidents; he said many others had buckled under similar circumstances in the past.

“She put her life in danger to save this woman and she should be commended for that,” he told IPS.

With “every political party and every political leader agreeing the law is misused and the accusations are false and have led to deadly consequences,” Jan said they need to come up with a grand national strategy.

“Begin by punishing those who falsely accuse others of blasphemy.”

Ashrafi wholeheartedly endorsed this. “Make it the test case,” demanded the PUC head, so that such incidents do not happen again.” He said all those who instigated this incident should be tried under the state’s anti-terrorist law.

Since the filing of this story, the Lahore police have lodged a First Information Report (FIR) against dozens of alleged miscreants so that the process of investigation can begin.

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A glamping resort, One Open Sky Glamp, at Mahodand Lake in Swat, Pakistan, shows the lack of snow this winter (2023/4), compared with last year (2022/3). The uncertain weather conditions are having an impact on business. Credit: Noorulhuda Shaheen

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Jan 29 2024 (IPS)

Alpine skier, 28-year-old Muhammad Karim, has spent the winter with his eyes skyward, wishing and hoping for deep and abundant snow.  “My bread and butter depend on the snow,” said the Olympian, who is also a ski trainer, at Naltar Ski Resort, in the valley by the same name nestled in the Gilgit-Baltistan’s Karakoram mountain range.

Heading the ice-hockey and alpine skiing section run by the Ski Federation of Pakistan and with the national skiing competition looming just weeks away (held between February 14 and 20 in Naltar), Karim had been getting sleepless nights as it had not snowed after a slight sprinkling of “half an inch” in November, and there were chances the sporting event would be called off. 

But as predicted by the Meteorological Department, the snowfall began on January 28 and “will continue for a few days,” said Karachi-based Dr. Sardar Sarfaraz, chief meteorologist at the Pakistan Meteorological Department.

But it’s not yet good news.

“It’s too light,” said Karim, talking to IPS over the phone from Naltar. “We are still uncertain about the event,” he added.

Without prolonged cold winter days to follow the snowfall, the snow will melt away, said Sarfaraz, continuing: “Nor will it compensate for the almost 80–90 percent less precipitation the country faced in December and January.”

“It is too little, too late,” said Sher Mohammad, a cryosphere expert at the Nepal-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD), over an email exchange.

This year has been quite unusual. It has been an almost snowless winter in the northern region of the Himalayan-Hindukush-Karakoram ranges.

Snow falls have been late this year, as these photos of a Jeep in Shahi Ground in Kalam, Swat, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa taken in January 2022 and 2024 show. Credit: Khalil Wahab

“We usually experience the first snowfall by the end of October in some parts of G-B, and this continues well into March,” said Shehzad Shigri, director of the Gilgit-Baltistan Environmental Protection Agency, speaking to IPS from Gilgit city.

“Winter has been milder,” he said, due to the El Niño effect. The temperatures recorded by the seven weather stations, however, show “an increase by 0.5 degree Centigrade in the region, on average, since 1983, and a decrease of precipitation (rain and snow) by 8.4 mm,” said Shigri.

Arun Bhakta Shrestha, senior climate expert at ICIMOD, underscoring the impact of global warming, explained the “unusual absence of snowfall in the Himalayas, Hindu Kush, and Karakoram this winter, attributing it to “warmer temperatures and fewer cold days and nights.”

“Overall, in Pakistan, nights are getting warmer by 0.5°C, which means we are experiencing, on average, eight to ten fewer cold days,” corroborated Sarfaraz.

A satellite image of the snowfall in the Kalam Valley, Hindu Kush, over the winters of 2024 and 2023. Credit: ICIMOD

A satellite visual of the Hunza Valley shows the differences in snowfall over last and this winter. Credit: ICIMOD

“This weather anomaly disrupts normal climate patterns, influenced by extreme La Niña-El Niño conditions and alterations to the Western Disturbance [weather systems that cause precipitation in the Western Himalayan region during its winter months]. These shifts, emblematic of the climate crisis, pose a significant threat to mountain communities and water security in the HinduKush-Himalayan region,” warned Shrestha.

But Sarfaraz is adamant El Niño is not to blame for less than average rain.

“Less precipitation in winter isn’t due to El Niño, as it affects the summer and the monsoon rains,” he insisted, saying rains in winter, in Pakistan, are known to have a linkage with the North Atlantic Oscillation, which, “if positive, brings a good amount of rain, and when negative, brings less.”

It is also premature to attribute a one-off snowless winter to ‘climate change,’ as it is not proven scientifically, he added.

Last year, 2023, according to climate scientists, with average temperatures of 1.34–1.54°C, was the hottest year since 1850–1900—the so-called pre-industrial era. Many scientists predict that 2024 could be hotter.

Whether anthropogenic or natural, a change in the fragile mountain ecosystem can have far-reaching consequences for the communities compared to terrestrial ones, Shigri said.

If nights are sleepless, the days have not been any easier for skier Karim. “I spend the day getting weather updates and rescheduling our plans. In between, he said, he is bombarded with phone calls from anxious athletes from all over Pakistan asking whether the event will be held at all.

Artificial snow needed to be added on the slope of Wildbore. Credit: Ski Federation of Pakistan

Winter season snowfall over the past 18 years. Credit: Pakistan Meteorological Department

As a backup, the foundation had started making artificial snow. “We had managed to cover 20 percent of the Wildboar slope, where the competition is to be held, but another 30 percent needs to be covered before February 13,” said the trainer. Artificial snow is not only a costly venture; Karim said it also requires a certain temperature, without which the snow will melt. Having glided down natural snow since he was four, he was not too enthused about the imitation.

“You cannot slide as smoothly as you can on natural snow,” he explained.

But Karim is not the only one whose life depends on snow.

Like in Naltar, the bare slope in the ski resort of Malam Jabba, in KP’s Swat district, was being covered with artificial snow to generate some economic activity before it started snowing on the eve of January 27.

“The season has been pretty lean,” admitted Afkaar Hussain, spokesperson of the Malam Jabba Ski Resort. From catering to up to 3,500 customers per day last year, the number has come down to as many as 500 per day, with most arriving over weekends this year.

Hussain said people come from all over Pakistan, sometimes even for the weekend or just a day trip if they are close by, to enjoy snowfall, do skiing, snowboarding, ziplining, or just go up to the hotel at the top of the slope on a chairlift to capture the splendid snow-capped views.

“Last year this place was buzzing; I didn’t know when the day started and ended; this year I have been quite free, but I hope this bout of snow will bring tourists back to town, even though it’s a bit late and the holiday season is over in the plains,” he said.

Kalam, in the Swat Valley, in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, where the first snow falls by mid-November and continues well into March, with snow up to eight feet, also got its share of snow on January 27.

“BBQ, endless cups of tea, and enjoying live music around a bonfire is a common sight in Kalam in the winter season,” recalled 30-year-old Noorulhuda Shaheen, adding that the flux of visitors was such that hotel rooms were booked months in advance—back in the day.

Snowfall late in January could be too late to save livelihoods this season. Credit: Noorulhuda Shaheen

Seeing what a roaring business this could be, he decided to open four luxury tented huts (where those with an adventurous streak do ‘glamping’) on the camping site of the famous Mahodand Lake, about an hour and a half jeep-drive from Kalam, in 2022.

“I did great when the spring started, but then in August, the floods dealt a death blow to tourism. Last year there was a good four feet of snow, but due to the county’s economic situation, business did not pick up. This winter season (starting from November 2023–March 2024), I was hoping I’d do well,” said Shaheen.

But till last week, with Kalam giving a deadpan look, it seemed highly unlikely people would go up to Mahodand Lake for glamping. However, he is hopeful about the late arrival of snow.

He hopes that once the snow stops falling and the sun comes out, people will flock to the valley.

“My huts are well equipped to keep tourists warm; it’s just magical out there right now,” he said after visiting the place after the snowfall.

But it is not just a lack of tourists that is worrisome.

The mountain people depend on natural resources for their livelihoods and practice small-scale agriculture. The impact of an almost snowless winter can be devastating for his people, said Shaheen. “It will mean our springs will dry up when the entire population is pastoral and dependent on subsistence farming and rearing livestock.”

A recent blog on ICIMOD’s website explains it best: “Snow cover usually acts as an insulating blanket, shielding dormant crops, allowing root growth, preventing frost penetration, and protecting soil from erosion. Reduced snowfall and erratic rains across the Himalayan region have the potential to cause adverse ecological impacts in the region, including on water and agroforestry.”

But if temperatures rise, which may well happen, as pointed out by Shigri, this late snowfall will be even more problematic. “It will lead to flash flooding and GLOFs (glacial lake outburst flooding) sweeping away homes, orchards, and livestock,” he said.

If this becomes the norm, repeated absences of snowfall may accelerate the receding of glaciers, said Islamabad-based climate change and sustainable development expert Ali Tauqeer Sheikh. “It’s also possible that instead of less water downstream, there could be much larger quantities if there are heat waves in the upper Indus basin. This may cause more early (than historical patterns) and irregular water flows,” he said.

While experts may dither over a sure-shot explanation for the current no-show/very little snow episode, Islamabad-based climate expert Imran Khalid, working with WWF-Pakistan, said these episodes with “either too little or too much precipitation” will continue to be experienced due to global warming.

“Therefore, plans and policies need to be in place to tackle such extreme scenarios.  These should entail enhancing the capacity of local communities to plan as well as utilizing instruments such as insurance mechanisms for an effective response,” he said.

“We should brace for the impacts,” agreed Vaqar Zakaria, the head of Hagler Bailly Pakistan, an environmental consultancy firm based in Islamabad, but rued: “We are not investing in the development of capacities, systems, and infrastructure to improve resilience; less water for crops, pastures, and micro- and even larger hydropower plants is what I would worry about most.”

And, added Sheikh, “Instead of raising alarm bells, we need to study the trends more closely and over longer periods of time rather than one or two seasons only.”.

Still, there are others who say Pakistan, not a major emitter but in the eye of a climate storm, could make a strong case for accessing the Loss and Damage Fund.

“The mechanisms for disbursement of funds (what little is available) are still in their infancy and, as such, cannot be relied upon to address the immediate needs of the communities,” said Khalid.

“I doubt our institutions would be able to submit a good proposal in time,” said Zakaria.

Therefore, said Khalid, with climate aberration episodes likely to recur, Pakistan must develop effective mechanisms for climate adaptation at the local level. “Having an effective adaptation scheme can serve to deter immediate loss and damage,” he pointed out.

Zakaria, however, remained skeptical. For those at the helm, he said, “the poor and vulnerable, hit the hardest by climate change, don’t figure in the resource allocation process.”
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Parents and children joined a protest in solidarity with Palestinian people in Karachi, Pakistan. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Dec 1 2023 (IPS)

To mark the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian people condemning Israel’s war on Gaza, protests were held on Wednesday across the globe, from Tokyo to Manila, Tehran and Beirut, Stockholm and London, and in Harare, Johannesburg, Quezon City, and Milan.

The UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres termed this year’s International Day of Solidarity to come during “one of the darkest chapters in the history of the Palestinian people.”

With 1.7 million Palestinians suffering a humanitarian catastrophe and having been forced from their homes, he said, “nowhere was safe.” Even the situation in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, was of grave concern.

Like in other part of the world, in the southern port city of Karachi, with a population of 20 million, the youngest protestor was one-year-old Zaaveel. “

This is how she will learn to show solidarity for the oppressed,” said her mother, Noor-us-Sabah, who carried her in her arms on the 2.5-kilometer walk along with people from all walks of life, including politicians, civil society and religious leaders, rights activists, students, and ordinary people of Karachi.

Mothers brought their children to the rally, believing that this action would teach solidarity for the oppressed. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim/IPS

Noor-us-Sabah was not the only mother with babies. A school teacher, carrying her two-year-old son, Mir Hadi, said: “What’s happening in Palestine is devastating; carrying him in my arms and walking is my way of condoling with all the mothers in Gaza who lost their young ones,” she said.

Holding placards and Palestinian flags and chanting in Urdu “Azad rahey ga falestine, abad rahey ga falestine,” to “From the river to the sea; Palestine will be free,” many marchers were wearing the keffiyeh, a scarf seen as a symbol of Palestinian identity and resistance. There was also a group holding a huge Palestinian flag, 28 by 45 feet long, while walking.

Interestingly, as rallies usually go, there were not many poetic slogans during the walk.  It was a deliberate decision, said Umar Farooq, a civil rights activist and one of the organisers. “We kept slogans limited to keep any religious or ideological disagreements out,” he pointed out.

Former Karachi administrator Fahim Zaman, also one of the organisers, told IPS: “Holding the rally had a two-fold purpose: to show solidarity with the Palestinian people and against the Israeli Zionists and the western imperialists, and to form a non-partisan platform where everyone, including all political and religio-political parties, can come together.”

Artist Durriya Kazi said she joined the rally to “honour the efforts of our ancestors, many from my own family, who untiringly protested the illegality of the 1917 Balfour Declaration, the root cause of the conflict in the region over the last 100 years.” The declaration, one of the most controversial and contested documents in the modern history of the Arab world, issued on November 2, 1917, was a pledge by the British to establish a national home for the Jewish people in Palestine.

She also found it encouraging that the political parties came together at a civil society-led rally. “It brought together ordinary citizens and political parties for one cause,” she said. And even though the rally was not huge, “the only flags flying were those of Palestine.”

“The best thing about the rally was seeing different political parties under one flag of Palestine,” said Rana Ansar, a senior political leader belonging to the Muttahida Qaumi Movement and former opposition leader in the Sindh provincial assembly.

Protesters changed ‘Palestine will be free; Palestine will live’ during a protest in Karachi, Pakistan, this week. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim

A day before, Senator Saeed Ghani, of the Pakistan People’s Party, sent a public message to his part-time workers to join the rally “without party flags,” as the march was not about them but Palestine and its people. The delegate from the Pashtun nationalist political party in Pakistan, the Awami National Party, came wearing their red caps and carried Palestinian flags.

While there is no accurate figure to know how big the rally was, according to Farooq, “the cameramen and reporters who cover rallies and who are more experienced at estimating crowd size told us there were some 25,000–30,000 people.” However, he added more than numbers: “I think people saw a ray of hope in collective action after a long time.”

“It was great to see people from all walks of life, including the elderly, disabled, and children,” said actor Ushna Shah, adding: “As far as rallies go, it was exceptionally well organised and executed.”

“I wanted to demonstrate that Palestinian lives matter and, at the same time, send a strong message to Israel that it needs to stop this lunacy NOW,” said Huma Amir Shah, a popular television presenter, with a keffiyeh around her neck. “Public opinion matters, numbers matter, and hence I joined the march.”

Kazi said the rally was representative of the protest of all Pakistanis who want to stand by Palestinian people, and she wanted to lend her voice to millions across the world who are “horrified by the ruthless massacre by Israeli forces of Palestinian men, women, and children, whose intention seems to be total annihilation of the population and making the land uninhabitable by destroying its infrastructure.”

The Pakistanis, it seems, feel they cannot do enough to ease the pain in Gaza. An unprecedented 2800 doctors and nurses have volunteered their services to treat the injured and the sick in Gaza but are not finding a way to get there.
“I wish someone could raise this issue and bring it to the attention of the international community and Egyptian authorities to let us in,” said 42-year-old orthopaedic surgeon Dr Hafeez-ur-Rehman. “They really need us.”
Over 200 healthcare workers have been killed in Gaza since the start of the conflict, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Health.

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Aradhiya Khan, 25, a transwoman, got her vaccination in the middle of the night in July 2021, when the centre was less crowded, and stood in the women's line as there was none for her gender.

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Oct 31 2023 (IPS)

After months of warding off appeals from his employers to get vaccinated for the COVID-19 disease, Mohammad Yusuf, 24, working as a live-in domestic worker in Karachi’s Clifton area, finally relented and got his first shot.

“I believed that anyone who took the vaccine would die within two years,” he told IPS. He said he got this information from social media.

The people who finally convinced him were his parents living in the village of Rahil, in Sindh’s province of Umerkot district, where, according to Yusuf, “not a single case of COVID-19 has to date been found.” But because Karachi was rife with the virus then, his parents explained that he might catch the infection if he remained unvaccinated.

The other reason for his hesitancy was the fear that if he got COVID-19 and was hospitalized, he may die without saying goodbye to his family and be buried unceremoniously by strangers. “You either got well within ten days, or you’d die a very difficult and painful death with breathlessness, high fever, and then death,” is how he explained the disease and its symptoms.

Rakhi Matan, 40, a caretaker for the elderly, had heard, “If someone got COVID-19, the government would come and pick them up from their home and take them to a center, inject poison into you after which you died”. It was this fear that got her to vaccinate herself. But since the shot, she often falls sick and attributes it to the vaccine.

The country began its COVID-19 vaccination campaign first by inoculating health workers on February 2, 2021, a year after the first case was reported in February 2020. This was followed closely by senior citizens and gradually to everyone over 18 years of age.

According to data from the Ministry of National Health Services Regulations and Coordination (MoNHSR&C), by March 2022, of the total eligible population of a little over 143 million, more than 125 million had received their first jab.

Dr Rana Imran Sikander, executive director at the Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences and who was then heading the COVID-19 ward there, was the first person in Pakistan to receive the shot from the batch of 500,000 Sinopharm vaccines received from China.

It was also the time when “myths and conspiracies abounded,” leading to hesitancy and fear of side effects. The more far-fetched conspiracy theories circulating in his hospital included ‘Bill Gates wants to reduce the world’s population,’ ‘the United States is injecting microchips into humans to make them their slaves,’ ‘Gates wants to alter their DNA.’

“Seeing me well and alive gave a huge boost to my co-workers,” said Sikander, who luckily has not caught COVID-19 even once. It could also be because he had also volunteered a dose six months prior to the official shot for the vaccine trial, he said.

Gallup Pakistan carried out 13 surveys (from March 2020 to January 2022) to understand people’s attitudes towards the pandemic. It also recorded the change in their perception towards the disease and the vaccine over a two-year period.

“The most alarming finding was that for close to 60 percent of health professionals, social media was a key source of information, and as high as one in five doctors were not willing to take the vaccine,” Bilal I. Gilani, executive director at Gallup Pakistan, told IPS. A consistent perception among Pakistanis in general, during all these months, he said, was “that COVID-19 was a foreign conspiracy.”

Like epidemiologists study viruses and find solutions on how to control the spread of diseases, anthropologist Dr Heidi Larson studies misinformation and tries to contain it before it spreads like wildfire. She is, therefore, not surprised as to why Sikander’s colleagues were “hesitant or losing confidence in vaccines.”

She has been studying the trend of how rumors start, flourish, and then taper, for 13 years under her Vaccine Confidence Project that she started in 2010.

At a recent Global Media Dialogue, held earlier this month, organized by the Internews, Larson spoke to a group of journalists about how important it was for health workers and policymakers to “listen” to what people are saying and why and “even listen to the rumors,” and they will “reveal that they [people] are not being heard”.

“That’s the cue to address the rumors,” she said. Already the findings say there is a drop in confidence around basic childhood vaccines, which she finds “pretty significant” and worrying as “we’ve never seen such a drop,” she said.

But how did the Pakistan government manage to get 130 million (above the age of 15) of the 250 million Pakistanis vaccinated for at least two doses in two years (by May 2022) after the pandemic? Given that the polio virus has continued to be found in Pakistan with communities refusing to get their children administered the oral vaccine, there was a fear among government officials it may face the same challenge with the COVID-19 vaccine.

Looking back to the two years of the pandemic, when he was the federal minister for planning and headed the National Command and Control Centre (NCOC) that had been set up to plan and contain the pandemic, Asad Umar said the two most important ingredients — “transparency and sharing of real-time data with the media when COVID-19 struck” was how they managed to dispel misinformation.

“By the time we were ready to vaccinate the people, the media had become our allies and played a huge role in supporting us in fighting misinformation and even disinformation.”

The other reason was that “for a change, all political parties were on board, and there was across-the-board consensus and confidence on the decisions made by the NCOC,” he said. The center disbanded as quickly as it was formed. “It’s a good model and needs to be institutionalized if we are to fight any future catastrophes, natural or health,” said Umar.

In July 2021, 76 percent of Pakistanis claimed that the government was controlling the COVID-19 situation well, according to a Gallup survey, although it diminished to just 41 percent by 2022.

It was “the oneness of message and consistency, coupled with an efficient vaccine delivery, which helped fight vaccine hesitancy,” said Dr Zaeem Ul Haq, a health and risk communication (real-time exchange of information, advice and opinions between experts and people who face a health hazard) expert who led communication and community engagement part of Pakistan’s response to the pandemic.

But to understand how the country succeeded in vaccinating millions of people, Haq said it was important to differentiate between vaccine-resistant (due to vested interests and political or religious beliefs difficult to convert) and vaccine-hesitant (if their questions around vaccines are appropriately answered can be converted) groups to be able to continue fighting misinformation. Unfortunately, in Pakistan, he said, these terms were used interchangeably and erroneously by the Pakistani media, which must be avoided, especially in the case of childhood immunization.

He shared that with simple and consistent messaging, combined with an age-appropriate, systematic administration of a vaccine, this reason-specific hesitancy declined in subsequent surveys.”

Dr Zafar Mirza, former special advisor to the prime minister for health, the government’s use of innovative approaches helped reach diverse and underserved populations.

“We put out pro-vaccination messages replacing the ringtones for nearly 150 million mobile phones, which made a huge impact,” he said. The Gallup survey found that by 2022, 84 percent of adult Pakistanis with mobile phone access had received at least one dose of the COVID-19 vaccine.

Another task carried out successfully was by the brigade of female community health workers and vaccinators, who convinced people to get vaccinated.

“Through the over 8,000 vaccinators and health workers and 300,000 community leaders, we managed to reach a population of 35 million in the remotest parts of Pakistan,” said Mirza.

A toll-free helpline, the Sehat Tahaffuz-1166, launched just before the pandemic in November 2019 to provide guidance for polio and its vaccine, was used to disseminate information about COVID-19.

“At one point, we had 500 call agents and 30 doctors daily assuaging the apprehensions and concerns about the infection and later the vaccine itself,” Mirza told IPS. From approximately 300 calls per day in 2019, it reached to 25,000, although the agents have attended as many as 70,000 calls in a day, too, he added.

For its part, UNICEF helped the government in battling vaccine hesitancy on social media platforms. “Through regular static posts and short videos, we communicated verified information about the vaccine’s efficacy. We posted messages from doctors, religious leaders, youth representatives, celebrities, community leaders, and even vaccinated individuals on our social media accounts,” UNICEF’s communications specialist, A. Sami Malik, told IPS. In addition, it regularly organized live interactive sessions on FB, Twitter Space, and Instagram, with experts providing responses to people’s questions and concerns.

This is not the last of the pandemics. Scientists are already warning of the possibility of a COVID-19-like pandemic at the scale of 2.5 percent to 3.3 percent yearly and 47 percent to 57 percent in the next 25 years. While vaccine hesitancy may have lowered, it has not ended after the pandemic. In fact, it gets fueled every time there is a reemergence of measles and polio in Pakistan. While vaccines must be delivered to the public in a coherent and effective manner to ensure public confidence in them, it will pay dividends if, as Dr Larson says, countries in general and Pakistan in particular, can recognize “the importance of emotions in people’s decision-making and in their willingness to cooperate.”

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Community health workers demand to be recognised as formal workers with pay and benefits to match. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Oct 19 2023 (IPS)

“Professionally, I am still where I was 23 years ago when I started working as a lady health worker (LHW),” said a disgruntled Yasmin Siddiq, 47, from Karachi. “I will probably retire in the same capacity, as a Grade 5 government servant, without any hope for upward mobility.”

The idea behind the Lady Health Worker Programme (LHWP), the brainchild of Pakistan’s late prime minister Benazir Bhutto, began in 1994 with the purpose of “training women as community health workers (CHWs) to improve the dismal maternal and child health scores of the country and build a bridge between the village woman and the formal health sector,” said Dr Talat Rizvi, a public health physician with a vast experience in Maternal and Child Health with a particular focus on community-based projects and who designed the programme.

Siddiqi’s day starts at 9 am, and she must go door-to-door, covering between 5 to 10 homes within the 1 km radius of her home. “Initially, my tasks included making married women (of reproductive age) aware of the benefits of family planning and informing and providing them assistance about contraceptives, ensuring they go for antenatal check-ups when pregnant and their tetanus shots. I had to keep an eye on under-five children of that family and get them vaccinated,” she said. Over the years, her workload has expanded.

“We were asked to help fight TB, handle refusals by parents on administration of polio drops, ensure every child under five gets immunised against childhood diseases, which have now increased to 12 vaccines, and recently during the COVID-19 pandemic, we helped with vaccinations,” said Bushra Bano Arain, chairperson of All Pakistan Lady Health Workers Union. “And as if health is not enough, we are asked to carry out our duties on election day,” disclosed Arain, an LHW supervisor.

“Over the years, the focus got diluted from primary healthcare when more and more responsibilities were added to the LHWP’s boat, and the boat sank,” said Rizvi.

“The original programme of ensuring the health of mother and child took a backseat,” agreed Dr Shershah Syed, a gynaecologist and obstetrician. “LHW was perhaps started with good intention but had become a politicised entity with many women recruited by MPAs and MNAs as ghost workers, in the Sindh province especially,” he added.

The situation is no better for the over a million Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHAs)  in India or the 52,000 Female Community Health Volunteers (FCHVs) of Nepal, who have, over the years, been lumped with more and more tasks, according to Public Services International, a global trade union federation, which helped the women CHWs in Pakistan, Nepal and India come up with a Charter of Demands to “address injustices and advocate for better working conditions”.

According to Jeni Jain Thapa, PSI’s project organiser in Nepa, the FCHVs “have no fixed working hours and must be on standby 24/7”.

The same is the case with the LHWs, said Musarrat Basharat, an LHW and the general secretary of the Punjab LHW’s Union. “Whatever time of the day or night it is, we must accompany a woman in labour to the health centre and be with her till she delivers. Same with a sick child. If the baby has diarrhoea and is dehydrated, we must rehydrate and be with the family for six hours until the child is out of danger. We are not shirking from our duty, but at least pay us for overtime or make some provision for it,” she said.

However, of the CHWs in the three countries, over 100,000 LHWs have won significant gains in getting themselves recognised as workers, securing a wage and registering their unions, Kannan Raman, secretary PSI, South Asia: “In Nepal and India, they are considered volunteers and not offered decent wages or better working conditions.”

“It took us 20 years to get ourselves noticed when the Supreme Court of Pakistan asked the government to bring us into the fold of formal work and make us permanent employees in 2014,” said Haleema Leghari, central president of All Sindh Lady Health Workers and Employees Union, working as a supervisor in the LHW programme.

But even after nine years, they continue working without a job structure or rules that go with that. “We rejected the service structure made for us as it was found to be discriminatory,” said Leghari, adding: “Recognition from the government is mere lip service.”

Even for those who started in 1994, like Arain and Leghari, who have become supervisors, their grades have been marginally improved from Grade 5 (which is for LHWs) to Grade 7 (which is for the supervisor). “While in other sections of the health departments, those who have worked as many years as us and are as educated as us have reached Grade 14; why have we not been upgraded?” Arain asked.

Although their salary was increased by 35 percent in June, Leghari said: “We do not want these ad-hoc increments; we want promotions like other government servants are promoted based on work performance, education and years of service, as these impromptu increments can also be taken back anytime.”

In addition, she said that those who have retired after attaining 60 years of age, are sick, or have died should be compensated. They or their families should be paid the pension in arrears,” she added. Today, the LHWs want the 20 years of contract work to be accounted for, which they say “everyone seems to have forgotten”.

According to Leghari, in other government departments, when an employee retires or meets with an accident, is sick or dies, a family member gets the job in that department. “We are missing out on these benefits because the rules have not been approved in the absence of a service structure,” she said.

“Their main demand is fool-proof security,” said Mir Zulfiqar Ali, executive director of Workers Education and Research Organisation. “You know so many LHWs have been killed by extremists,” he said. His organisation is working with the LHWs and training them about labour rights, health protection especially during crises and pandemics, and workplace safety and how to lobby effectively with the government to get their demands accepted, coordinating the PSI CHW project in Pakistan.

Siddiqi’s monthly payment is now Rs 44,000 from Rs 37,000 since June, but given the skyrocketing food, electricity and fuel prices, she said this was certainly not enough for a single mother with two school and college-going kids.

“The provincial health departments have time to meet all the international NGOs and donor agencies, but for holding a meeting to address our grievances, they can never find time,” said Arain.

“The invaluable work community health workers do work that has delivered immeasurable value to communities and public health, is not valued, simply because it is carried out by women, and women’s care work is routinely de-valued, even when it saves lives”, explained Kate Lappin, the Asia Pacific regional secretary for PSI.

With new climate catastrophes imminent, Lappin said Pakistan will need the services of LHWs even more, as was proved during the pandemic and the 2022 floods that disrupted the already fragile health system. “They [CHWs] are the first line of defence in a crisis.” She was in Pakistan recently and met with LHWs from some remote parts of Pakistan. “It was clear that they are often the only source of support to women in the most underserviced areas.”

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Afshan Bhurgri, a cancer survivor, advises women to listen to their bodies and be aware of the symptoms of cervical cancer. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Jul 26 2023 (IPS)

“Listen to your body, and if there is anything strange happening, do not ignore it,” is the advice of 57-year-old Afshan Bhurgri, a cancer survivor.

Eight years ago, she was diagnosed with cervical cancer at a time when she was “in a good place” in life. Her kids were grown up, and she had more time to herself. A fitness freak, the schoolteacher’s daily routine included going to the gym daily. “I joined a creative writing class as I loved penning my thoughts!” she reminisced. 

But then everything changed when she found out she had cancer.

Cancer of the cervix uteri is the fourth most common cancer among women worldwide, with an estimated 604,127 new cases and causing the death of 341,831 in 2020.

In Pakistan, an estimated 73.8 million women over the age of 15 are at risk of developing cervical cancer caused by the human papillomavirus (HPV).

Cervical cancer in Pakistan, according to the WHO. Credit: Shahzeb Ahmed

In the absence of complete data, it is estimated that of the 5,000 women diagnosed with this cancer in Pakistan, some 3,000 lose their lives every year due to lack of access to prevention, screening and treatment, thus making it the third leading cause of cancer-related deaths in women of the reproductive age group in the country, after breast and ovarian cancers. Up to 88 percent of cervical cancer cases are due to human papillomavirus (HPV) serotypes 16 and 18, as reported by the International Agency for Research on Cancer.

“We are short on authentic data on the prevalence of the disease burden,” said Dr Arshad Chandio, who works at Jhpiego Pakistan as an immunisation lead. His organisation, which has supported HPV vaccine introduction in seven countries with Gavi support, is partnering with the federal and provincial governments, along with WHO, UNICEF, and USAID, to implement a roadmap for cervical cancer prevention and introduction of HPV vaccine in Pakistan. Cervical cancer is the only cancer that is preventable by a vaccine.

Cervical cancer worldwide, according to the WHO. Credit: Shahzeb Ahmed

“Without authentic data, our plan to eradicate this disease will not be watertight,” admitted Dr Irshad Memon, the director general of the Expanded Programme on Immunisation in Sindh.

Dr Shahid Pervez, senior consultant histopathologist at the Aga Khan University Hospital (AKUH), co-chair of the country’s newly established National Cancer Registry, recommends legislation to make reporting of cancer mandatory. “This will be one way of collecting basic data, at one place, which is expected by international agencies to roll out an effective cancer control programme in Pakistan,” he added.

Cervical cancer warning signs. Credit: Shahzeb Ahmed

Although Bhurgri had knowledge about cancer of the cervix and went for regular health checkups and screenings, her doctors did not carry out full examinations, which led to the infection turning cancerous. It all started in 2009, five years prior to being diagnosed with cancer when she started noticing a “foul smell emanating from my vagina” after her period became “heavier” than usual.

“Let alone screening and testing for the cancer, many healthcare professionals do not even know of the disease, or how women get infected,” pointed out Chandio.

“I am an educated person, I could afford to get the best medical help, and I went to three of the city’s top gynaecologists, got pap smears done on their requests over the years, and I was only sent for HPV test when it was too late,” rued Bhurgri. In 2014, a doctor suggested an ultrasound which gave a true picture. A biopsy confirmed she had cervical cancer.

After her biopsy, Bhurgri started reading up on cervical cancer, and one of the indications was the foul vaginal smell.

“It could have been nipped in the bud if only the doctors had carried out a thorough examination,” said gynaecologist and obstetrician Dr Azra Ahsan, president of the Association for Mothers and Newborns, blaming “sheer negligence” on the part of her fraternity.

“A gynaecological consultation must not only be limited to a conversation across the table,” said Ahsan, but should include an “examination on the couch including a proper internal examination, ideally a pap smear and visual inspection,” especially if, like Bhurgri, a patient was complaining of heavy bleeding and a foul smell.

Bhurgri’s journey towards wellness was tough. A radical hysterectomy was recommended, and her cervix, her uterus and her ovaries were removed. Twenty-eight radiations and five chemos later, over a five-month period, she was given a clean chit by her oncologist.

Screening Can Save Lives

Although Bhurgri’s cancer may have remained under the radar despite regular screening via pap smears, doctors say HPV and pap smear tests are the best way to screen a woman for cervical cancer. They can identify patients who are at high risk of developing pre-cancerous changes on the cervix as well as pick up those who have already developed these changes.

These precancerous lesions can be treated before they turn into cancer. Sadly, in Pakistan, the uptake of pap smears is negligible and estimated to be as low as 2 percent.

According to Dr Uzma Chishti, assistant professor and consultant gynecologic oncologist, Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology, AKUH, Pakistan’s health system is so financially stretched that it cannot afford to provide screening of women by these expensive tests. Instead, she recommends WHO’s recommendations of performing a visual inspection of the cervix by acetic acid (VIA) to screen women to help reduce the incidence of cervical cancer. “VIA is an alternative screening test for low-and-middle-income countries like ours,” she said.

Vaccinations the Best Option

The WHO triple intervention recommendation to eliminate cervical cancer in countries like Pakistan includes scaling up HPV vaccination to 90 percent for girls aged between 9 to 14, twice-lifetime cervical screening to 70 percent and treatment of pre-invasive lesions and invasive cancer to 90 percent by 2030. “All three are essential if we want to eliminate cervical cancer completely,” emphasised said Ahsan.

HPV vaccinations to prevent cervical cancer are the way forward as it provides primary prevention, said Chishti, in the absence of VIA, screenings and pap smear tests. Almost 60 per cent of cervical cancer cases occur in countries that have not yet introduced HPV vaccination. Pakistan is one of them.

Once up and about, the first thing Bhurgri did was get her 14-year-old daughter vaccinated for human papillomavirus (HPV) vaccine. “My older daughter remains unvaccinated as she was 21 then and studying abroad. She needed three shots and could not make it to that timeline,” she said.

In Pakistan, two globally licensed HPV vaccines – Cervarix (protective against HPV serotypes 16 and 18) and Gardasil (against 6, 11, 16, and 18) were available till a few years ago, but very few doctors, even in the private sector, were prescribing them.

“We made it available in our clinic and counselled any and everyone, but it mostly fell on deaf ears, and very few people actually got vaccinated. As a result, huge amounts of vaccines expired in the warehouses, and the pharmaceutical firms decided to not make it available in Pakistan,” explained Ahsan.

In 2021, medical students at the AKUH interviewed 384 women attending outpatient clinics between the ages of 15 to 50 to find out their knowledge about cervical cancer. They found that of the 61.2 percent of women who had heard about cervical cancer, 47.0 percent knew about pap smear tests, and among them, 73 percent had gotten a pap test. A total of 25.5 percent of women, out of the 61.2 percent, knew that a vaccine existed for prevention, but only 9.8 percent had been vaccinated against human papillomavirus. The study concluded that a majority of the women interviewed for the study belonged to a higher socioeconomic class and were mostly educated, yet their knowledge regarding the prevention and screening of cervical cancer was poor. “This reflects that the knowledge levels as a whole would be considerably lower in the city’s general population,” the study concluded.

But this may change if Pakistan introduces the HPV vaccine at a national level, utilising routine effective and established immunisation delivery strategies. According to Dr Uzma Shamsi, a cancer epidemiologist at the AKUH, implementing the HPV vaccine at a national level in Pakistan could save hundreds of thousands of lives annually.

Shamsi highlighted the challenges of discussing HPV in a conservative society where sexual health topics are hardly discussed due to the embarrassment and taboo associated with sexually transmitted infections (STIs). This communication conundrum has resulted in a general lack of information about the disease. “There is a total lack of information about HPV, cervical cancer, and its prevention among the masses,” she said.

But the benefits are enormous, and hundreds of thousands of lives could be saved each year, she emphasised.

Pakistan is in talks with Gavi the vaccine alliance, to support the country in including the single-dose HPV (two covers four strains) vaccine in its routine immunisation programme. “It will probably take another two years and USD 16 million before we can roll out the vaccine, but when it happens, it will be a country-wide campaign,” confirmed Memon.

Shamsi predicted some tribulation because the primary target group for vaccination is pre-adolescent girls. “A new vaccine for a new target age group comes with its own set of challenges in a society where conspiracy theories about vaccination programmes, stigma and misinformation about cancer and sexual health persist,” she said. And so before the actual rollout,  Shamsi emphasised, it was important to increase awareness about the HPV virus, cervical cancer causes, and vaccine’s safety and usage among the general public, patients, and healthcare professionals while actively dispelling misinformation.

Memon agreed that “conversation around the vaccine must begin”. For its part, the Sindh government set aside Rs 100 million ($365,884) for advocacy of HPV vaccine uptake in its current budget. “We will initiate a dissemination campaign once we know when the HPV vaccination programme is to begin,” he said. The Sindh province was also the first to initiate the typhoid conjugate virus vaccine after an extensively drug-resistant virus was found in the province. He was hopeful there would be less resistance to the HPV vaccine after the successful administration of measles and rubella and the pediatric Covid-19 vaccines earlier.

However, said Memon, “We will need more women vaccinators this time as young girls are shy of rolling their shirt sleeves up for male vaccinators.” With up to 125,000 female health workers across Pakistan, who were earlier trained by Gavi for MR immunisation, which is a much more difficult vaccine to administer (being subcutaneous) as opposed to the HPV one (which is muscular), he said, this workforce can be engaged to get trained for this vaccination campaign too.

In the end, however, according to Chandio, “without a strong political will and leadership, a national HPV vaccination programme cannot become a reality in Pakistan to eliminate this largely preventable cancer among women”.

Fighting her cancer has changed Bhurgri in more ways than one. Her message to women is to “not put yourself aside; make yourself a priority.” While she continues to lead a healthy life – going to the gym, eating healthy, resting, she said, “You cannot go on and pick up where you left off”.

Note: This feature was supported by the Sabin Vaccine Institute.

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