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From Conflict to Consensus

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Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : There is a near-universal consensus in Pakistan on one key principle: the country must progress. No matter which province or ethnicity one belongs to—Punjabi, Sindhi, Baloch, or Pashtun—every citizen yearns for a future where poverty is defeated, dignity is restored, and opportunities abound. This shared national aspiration should have been the most powerful unifying force in Pakistan’s journey toward nationhood. Yet, the question persists: why, despite this common desire, has Pakistan struggled to achieve sustained progress?
The answer lies in the fractured relationship between the state, the Constitution, and the people. The Constitution of Pakistan is not merely a legal document—it is a solemn covenant. It lays down the rights of individuals, the responsibilities of the state, and the mechanisms that bind both in a democratic order. At its heart, the Constitution grants citizens the freedom to dream, to pursue meaningful opportunities, and to live with dignity. But when this foundational contract is ignored or manipulated—whether by state institutions, non-state actors, or even by segments of the political class—societal unrest becomes inevitable.
Justice must form the cornerstone of any thriving nation. Without it, the moral and institutional fabric begins to unravel. When citizens feel deprived of their rightful place in national decision-making or believe that their resources are being unjustly distributed, resentment takes root. These grievances are not abstract—they manifest in broken trust, in mass disenfranchisement, and, ultimately, in resistance against the very institutions meant to serve the people.
This has been particularly evident in regions like Balochistan. It is an uncontested truth that the Baloch people deserve equal access to education, employment, and economic opportunities. They must be seen not as passive recipients of state policy, but as active partners in the development of their land and its vast resources. If some among them have chosen the path of armed resistance, it is not necessarily rebellion—it is, more accurately, a cry of anguish stemming from decades of neglect and perceived injustice. The only sustainable resolution lies in dialogue, inclusion, and the empowerment of local populations. Force has never resolved discontent rooted in genuine grievances.
A similar principle applies to other regions. In Sindh, for example, disputes over water distribution—such as proposed diversions to irrigate the Cholistan desert—must be addressed through transparent dialogue and scientific analysis. These issues should never be approached as top-down decrees from Islamabad but rather as subjects for national consensus. Development must not proceed at the cost of alienation. It must be for the people, by the people—with the people.
At the heart of this debate is the question: who is development for? Infrastructure projects, resource extraction, and even military installations mean little if they do not result in tangible improvements in the lives of citizens—better schools, functional hospitals, dignified housing, and reliable jobs. Development cannot be an instrument of control. It must be a vehicle for upliftment.
Here, we can learn from global examples. China, once grappling with vast poverty and regional inequality, made human development its primary goal. By investing aggressively in education, healthcare, poverty reduction, and skill-building, it laid the groundwork for rapid economic transformation and social cohesion. Pakistan must do the same. We must realize that our greatest national asset is not our minerals, mountains, or motorways—it is our people.
Indeed, when we assess our strengths, it becomes clear that Pakistan’s most valuable resource is its human capital. The second is its institutions. Among these, the Pakistan Armed Forces stand as a powerful guardian of national sovereignty. Their strategic acumen has been demonstrated on multiple occasions—whether in 2019, when they responded decisively to Indian aggression by downing a hostile aircraft, or more recently, when they responded proportionately to Iranian incursions targeting terrorists within Pakistani territory. The message has been clear: Pakistan will defend its sovereignty, but it will do so with discipline and precision.
The enduring strength of our armed forces has served as a deterrent to external threats for decades. Similarly, Pakistan’s civil bureaucracy, though often maligned, is among the most talented in the developing world. However, despite these institutional strengths, the overall system appears paralyzed. Why?
Because we have consistently failed to invest in our people. We have allowed internal divisions to fester instead of resolving them. We have launched projects without community consent. We have designed policies in isolation rather than in partnership with those most affected. This disconnection is eroding not just the legitimacy of governance, but the very cohesion of the state.
For progress to be meaningful, every citizen—regardless of ethnicity or location—must feel that they have a fair stake in the system. When people are heard, respected, and empowered, they become guardians of the state, not agitators against it. It is only through the inclusion of marginalized voices that we can move toward a more democratic, peaceful, and prosperous Pakistan.
To do this, we must reimagine how we govern and whom we serve. We must move beyond centralization and embrace participatory governance. We must institutionalize consultation, particularly for major development projects, so that controversies are addressed before they erupt into crises. We must dismantle the notion that the state knows best, and instead acknowledge that it is the people—especially those closest to the problems—who often hold the best solutions.
We must also end the toxic cycle of exclusion and marginalization. When citizens believe that their voices don’t matter, they retreat from civic life—or worse, they resist the system itself. But when they are brought into the fold, when they see the dividends of peace and participation, they become its most ardent defenders.
Let us think of Pakistan as a tree. For it to grow strong and weather storms, its roots—our people—must be nurtured. Its trunk—our Constitution—must be solid and unyielding. Its branches—our institutions—must be firm yet flexible. And its leaves—our provinces—must flourish in harmony. Only then will future generations inherit a country that is not merely a territory, but a shared, thriving dream.
This is not idealism—it is necessity. We can no longer afford to treat justice as optional, or inclusion as cosmetic. The survival, strength, and success of Pakistan depend on a renewed covenant between the state and its people. A covenant based on dignity, on participation, and above all, on trust.

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Pakistan’s Yemen Dilemma

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Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : Pakistan’s military commitment to Saudi Arabia raises a question that cannot be answered simply by identifying where its soldiers are stationed. Modern warfare allows forces to attack through aircraft, missiles, drones and targeting support without sending infantry across a border. The decisive issue is whether Pakistani personnel and capabilities will participate in hostilities against Yemen’s Houthis—and what consequences could follow.
Scott Ritter, renowned American podcaster, military and geopolitical analyst captures the central danger: Saudi Arabia could obtain through collective defence the Pakistani involvement in Yemen that Islamabad previously resisted. An initially limited commitment could expand through casualties, retaliation and demands for reinforcement, leaving Pakistan responsible for a war whose objectives it does not control.
CNN reported on October 7 that Pakistani troops were already stationed in Saudi Arabia. In the interview, Lieutenant General Ahmed Sharif Chaudhry, director general of Inter-Services Public Relations, declined to disclose their numbers or capabilities. Asked about operations across the Yemeni border, he invoked military confidentiality, explaining that participating countries do not publicly disclose how and where they will employ their forces. His response offered no categorical exclusion of ground operations or offensive action inside Yemen, even as he described Pakistani involvement as defensive.
That distinction matters. Operational secrecy may protect military personnel, but it also leaves the public without clear answers about the mission’s boundaries. The description “defensive” cannot establish those boundaries by itself. Governments routinely invoke defence to justify attacks beyond their territory; the relevant questions concern what forces actually do, whom they target and under whose authority.
Pakistani forces operating from Saudi territory could potentially support or conduct attacks inside Yemen without deploying infantry there. Air operations and targeting assistance could carry substantial consequences. If Pakistani personnel participate in attacks against Houthi positions, Ansarullah could regard Pakistan as belligerent. Tehran could interpret the same activity as participation in a campaign against Iranian regional interests.
The Makkah Joint Defence Agreement, signed by Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Türkiye on August 7, 2026, reportedly treats an attack against one member as an attack against all three. Its deterrent promise is substantial, but so is the danger of importing one member’s confrontation into the security calculations of the others.
An October 5 statement published by Türkiye’s Foreign Ministry committed the partners to implement collective defence arrangements and rapidly deploy agreed military forces and capabilities to Saudi Arabia, subject to national legislation. Türkiye therefore shares the deployment commitment. However, the evidence reviewed does not establish a Turkish ground combat commitment against the Houthis or an equal distribution of operational risks.
For Islamabad, the unanswered questions are fundamental. Who authorizes Pakistani involvement in cross-border attacks? Can Pakistan refuse a particular operation? Who finances a prolonged deployment, and what conditions permit withdrawal? Confidential operational details need not be published to explain the political mandate governing the use of force.
Pakistan brings potential strengths to the alliance: experienced personnel, established military institutions and longstanding cooperation with Riyadh. Saudi infrastructure and financing could support a substantial deployment. Islamabad’s relationships with both Riyadh and Tehran might also create diplomatic opportunities, provided military involvement does not undermine its credibility as an intermediary.
Yet those strengths do not resolve the weaknesses of an extended campaign. Destroying particular weapons or positions is different from ending an adversary’s ability and determination to fight. Dispersed forces, local networks and adaptation can frustrate superior firepower. Tactical gains could therefore coexist with an expanding mission and an elusive political settlement.
Ritter’s warning is strongest when understood in these terms. Predicting inevitable Pakistani defeat is less useful than asking what victory would require. Protecting defined facilities offers measurable objectives. Permanently eliminating the Houthi threat could entail commitments far beyond what Pakistan initially intended—and costs that additional military capability cannot necessarily overcome.
Saudi financial assistance complicates Islamabad’s freedom of choice. The State Bank of Pakistan confirmed that a $3 billion Saudi deposit maturing in December 2025 was extended for another year. Such support gives Pakistan a substantial interest in maintaining Saudi confidence.
Saudi’s financial influence does not require an explicit threat. A government facing external financing pressures may find it difficult to reject security requests from an important creditor. The danger is that short-term economic reassurance encourages military obligations carrying much greater long-term costs.
Iran introduces a further risk. Pakistani attacks against an Iranian-supported movement could damage relations with a neighbouring country and generate security pressures closer to home. The Houthis also possess their own Yemeni objectives, and attacking them is not automatically equivalent to attacking Iran. Political escalation, however, can advance through perceptions and retaliation before governments agree on legal distinctions.
International law offers no reliable assurance that this confrontation would remain contained. Legal obligations persist, but their enforcement is uneven, and states may invoke self-defence while pursuing military objectives beyond their borders. Pakistan therefore cannot assume that legal distinctions between defending Saudi territory and attacking Houthi positions would restrain retaliation. If Tehran perceives Pakistani operations as threatening its interests, the danger would turn on strategic calculations, perceived threats and the risk of escalation—not simply on competing interpretations of the UN Charter. Shared religion and geographical proximity would offer no dependable protection against that outcome.
Pakistan’s domestic divisions make a widening conflict especially consequential. The supporters of imprisoned former prime minister Imran Khan began marching from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa toward Islamabad on October 4, demanding his release, hospital treatment and family access. An overseas campaign would impose additional demands on resources and political legitimacy amid an already polarized environment.
Parliament’s April 2015 resolution remains relevant. It supported neutrality in Yemen alongside solidarity against threats to Saudi territorial integrity and the holy sites, while urging diplomacy through the United Nations and Organisation of Islamic Cooperation. That distinction deserves renewed parliamentary examination before military commitments overtake political debate.
Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye should pursue an emergency OIC initiative linked to UN diplomacy, involving Iran and meaningful Yemeni participation. Reciprocal de-escalation, civilian protection and humanitarian access should take priority. Their collective influence should also sustain action for Palestinian rights rather than dissipate through another prolonged regional confrontation.
The Makkah Pact’s credibility will depend on whether it improves security. Secrecy about military methods cannot replace clarity about political objectives. Before Pakistan’s commitment deepens, its leaders must explain what they are defending, how far that obligation extends and how they intend to prevent it from becoming an open-ended war.

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Pakistan Reaffirms Commitment to Multilateralism, Peace and International Cooperation at the Executive Board of UNESCO

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Paris ( Imran Y. CHOUDHRY):- Advisor to the Prime Minister of Pakistan and Representative of Pakistan to UNESCO, Syed Tauqeer Hussain Shah, delivered Pakistan’s national statement at the 225th Session of the UNESCO Executive Board in Paris, France, reaffirming its steadfast commitment to multilateralism, international cooperation and the promotion of peace through dialogue and mutual understanding.

In his statement,

  • Underscored Pakistan’s firm support for multilateral institutions, South-South cooperation and collaborative efforts to address global challenges, particularly those confronting developing countries;
  • Highlighted the urgent need to protect human life, educational institutions and cultural heritage amid conflicts and crisis, especially in Gaza;

-Called for an international action plan to confront the challenge of out-of-school children;

  • Stressed the importance of equitable access to scientific knowledge, international scientific collaboration and reducing technological inequalities;

-Underlined the need to combat racism, misogyny, Islamophobia, disinformation and hate speech, while encouraging responsible and ethical governance of artificial intelligence and emerging technologies; and

  • Expressed support for institutional reform of UNESCO to enhance its effectiveness and impact worldwide.

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Quetta’s Daughter, Pakistan’s Pride

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Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : While browsing today’s international news, one story stopped me and filled my heart with both pride and anguish: Jalila Haider, a Hazara woman born, raised and educated in my hometown, Quetta, has won the 2026 Right Livelihood Award, announced today, September 30. Presented by the Stockholm-based Right Livelihood Award Foundation, the distinction is widely known as the “Alternative Nobel Prize,”.
This year, just four recipients—two women and two women-led organizations—were selected from 200 nominations across 72 countries. Haider was recognized for challenging ethnic persecution, state repression and discrimination against women through her legal work and activism.
For recipients, such recognition brings international visibility to their struggles and strengthens their ability to rally support; for Pakistan, Haider’s achievement highlights the courage and humanity of citizens defending its most vulnerable communities.
Amid reports of conflict and suffering, here was a Pakistani woman honored for standing beside people whom violence and indifference had pushed into the shadows. The news brought pride, but also anguish over the injustices that made her work necessary—and memories of a city whose humanity I once knew intimately.
Quetta, nestled like a bowl among towering hills, was beautiful for more than its landscape and refreshing weather. During my years of education, from 1970 to 1984, its greatest attraction was the fellowship between its communities. In the Quetta I remember, differences of ethnicity, language and religious tradition did not prevent friendship. We studied, played and visited one another, sharing a city that felt like home to us all.
I watched Hazara families advance through education, commerce, public service and sport. Their businesses grew, their young people distinguished themselves, and their contribution became woven into Quetta’s everyday life. Their achievements enriched the city. Remembering that shared life makes the subsequent persecution especially painful: people who helped build our hometown were increasingly denied the freedom to live safely within it.
I witnessed that atmosphere deteriorate as the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 drew our region into confrontation between Moscow and Washington. In my observation, foreign ideological rivalries, money and weapons deepened divisions among people who had lived together. I saw resentment grow around Hazara and Punjabi advancement in commerce and public employment. These memories carry the pain we shared as neighbours: the gradual destruction of trust, followed by violence against familiar families.
The consequences were merciless. Hazaras were attacked in markets, on roads and while travelling to worship. Human Rights Watch recorded that two major bombings in Quetta in January and February 2013 killed at least 180 Hazaras. Such figures describe the scale, but cannot convey the anguish within each household. Every victim left relationships, responsibilities and hopes that no compensation or official condolence could restore.
For me, this tragedy has a familiar face: Abrar Hussain, the celebrated Hazara boxer who trained us during our school and college years. He brought distinction to Pakistan in international competition. When I later served in Quetta as deputy income tax commissioner, I knew him in his sports administration role. In June 2011, he was murdered in the city he had served. A man who strengthened Pakistan’s reputation abroad could not be protected at home.
Fear drove families away from their neighbourhoods, livelihoods and memories. Some sought safety elsewhere in Pakistan; others rebuilt their lives overseas, including in Australia. Those who remained faced restricted movement and shrinking opportunities. The loss extended beyond households. Quetta itself was diminished whenever a family left because it could no longer trust that its children would return safely from school, work or the market.
This was the environment in which Jalila Haider chose to stand her ground. Born in 1984, she lost her father when she was twelve. Her mother raised six children and supported her determination to study law. In 2010, she earned her degree from University Law College, Quetta, becoming the first woman lawyer from Pakistan’s Hazara community. Behind that achievement stood a mother’s resolve and a daughter’s refusal to surrender.
Her legal practice, established in 2011, became a refuge for people whose cases others considered dangerous or unrewarding. According to her award biography, her firm has handled more than 7,000 cases and helped restore freedom of movement to more than 600 political activists and human rights defenders. She has represented women seeking divorce, custody and inheritance rights, alongside refugees, transgender people and those facing wrongful accusations.
The dangers were personal. She survived the 2016 bombing that devastated Balochistan’s legal community. She has endured detention, online harassment and death threats. Nevertheless, she continued appearing for people whose vulnerability often made them easy to abandon. In a setting where professional advancement can reward silence, her willingness to accept difficult cases gave frightened families someone prepared to listen and act.
In 2018, she carried that determination into a seven-day hunger strike against the targeted killing of Hazaras. She demanded direct engagement from the army chief, refusing to accept assurances from officials unable to deliver security. The protest brought negotiations between the military leadership and Hazara women. The award foundation credits it with contributing to a sustained decline in attacks, although the community’s insecurity and displacement remained unresolved.
Her work also recognises that justice requires the means to survive. Through We the Humans, founded in 2015, she has helped more than 400 widows of terrorism victims gain financial independence. Rug weaving, childcare, education and literacy support connect income with dignity. A widow able to support her children acquires something beyond financial relief: greater freedom to make decisions about her family’s future.
As a founding member of the Women’s Democratic Front, Haider also helped pioneer Balochistan’s first Women’s March. Her advocacy reaches women facing forced marriage and honour violence, crossing the boundaries of her own community. That breadth matters. Having experienced persecution, she has refused to make another person’s ethnicity or identity a condition for receiving help.
Pakistan owes women like her more than ceremonial praise. They need protection, functioning courts and institutions that respond before desperation forces a hunger strike. Their work reveals both the courage within our society and the distance between constitutional promises and everyday experience. Supporting them would allow more families to recover the ordinary security that violence has stolen.
Pakistan is too often viewed through an unfavourable lens in the international media, with few stories allowing its humanity and courage to shine. Finding Jalila Haider’s recognition among the day’s top ten world news stories filled my heart with pride, even as it revived the agony of everything our Hazara community has endured.
May this honour bring her greater dignity, respect and protection, and inspire many more Jalila Haiders across Pakistan and the world to join the struggle for justice and freedom. May their courage restore hope to those pushed into the shadows and challenge the label of “illegal” imposed on human beings through no fault of their own, but by systems, borders and laws that fail to recognise their humanity.

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