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Floods, Failures, and the Fabulous “Vision” of Pakistan’s Establishment


If there were an Olympic medal for consistent failure, Pakistan’s establishment would bring home the gold every single time. For seventy-eight long years, they’ve enjoyed uninterrupted power, uncontested authority, and an all-you-can-eat buffet of national resources. And what do we, the people, have to show for it? Load-shedding, corruption, poverty, and—oh yes—the annual “monsoon massacre” that claims hundreds of innocent lives.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Today, I want to shine a flashlight on just one of their spectacular blunders. And no, I’m not talking about foreign policy disasters or “engineering” governments. I’m talking about their complete and utter lack of vision in dealing with one of the most predictable natural events in our country: floods.


The Annual Monsoon Horror Show

Every year, as predictably as the sun rises, Pakistan gets hit by monsoon rains. Every year, rivers swell, villages drown, roads vanish, and people are forced to climb onto rooftops, waving helplessly for rescue. Every year, the establishment acts as if this is some brand-new, shocking calamity sent directly from the heavens.

Really? Seventy-eight years and they still haven’t figured out that rain falls every monsoon? Perhaps the generals think climate change is just a conspiracy theory cooked up by NGOs to irritate them. After all, why waste brain cells on boring things like flood management when there are land plots to grab, housing societies to launch, and golf courses to build?


Vision? What Vision?

You’d expect those in power to invest in forward-looking solutions. Catchment areas, reservoirs, water diversion systems—tools that other countries use to save their people and their economy from devastation. But in Pakistan, “vision” is limited to protecting DHA, Bahria Town, and the neighborhoods where the elite sip their imported coffees.

Coincidence or not, year after year, the poor are the ones who lose their homes, their livestock, their savings, and often their lives. Meanwhile, the well-connected enjoy their uninterrupted air-conditioning and Instagram vacations. You tell me: is this ignorance, or just cold-blooded selectivity?


Kalabagh: The Dam That Never Was

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room—the Kalabagh Dam. A project that could have changed Pakistan’s economic fate, reduced floods, and provided water security for generations. But thanks to endless bickering, political manipulation, and the establishment’s refusal to push for a solution, the dam remains a pipe dream.

Oh, but when it comes to making sure “their man” sits in the Prime Minister’s chair, the establishment somehow manages to move heaven, earth, and a few ballot boxes. Building a dam that could save lives and generate electricity? Suddenly, that’s too complicated. Priorities, my friends. Priorities.


Floods: Nature’s Free Reminder

The floods don’t just destroy homes and crops. They wipe out decades of progress in minutes. Schools collapse, bridges vanish, and diseases spread like wildfire. Billions are lost, international donors are begged for aid, and the government makes tearful promises of “never again.”

And yet—it always happens again. Because the establishment treats these disasters not as a wake-up call but as a business model. Relief funds? Contracts for reconstruction? Ah, now we’re talking real money. In a twisted way, the floods are profitable—just not for the poor farmer who lost everything.


Climate Change? Never Heard of It

Around the world, governments are adapting to climate change with innovative water management, renewable energy, and sustainable planning. Meanwhile, in Pakistan, the word “climate” might as well refer to the temperature inside the officers’ mess.

Imagine if our rulers invested even a fraction of their defense budget into building resilient infrastructure. Imagine if they saw water not just as a flood risk but as a national asset. Instead, we get “committees” that meet, eat, and retreat. Because who has time for science when “national security” requires endless press conferences?


Trees: The Forgotten Lifeline

And here’s the part they never tell you: tree plantation is one of the most powerful defenses against climate disasters. Trees stabilize soil, reduce runoff, and act like natural sponges that absorb rainwater. Forests help regulate the climate, protect biodiversity, and reduce the chances of catastrophic flooding. In short, planting trees is not charity—it’s survival.

Imran Khan’s government recognized this reality when it launched the Billion Tree Tsunami. It was a rare glimmer of vision—an initiative that could have transformed Pakistan’s environment, reduced flood damage, and even created green jobs. Unfortunately, just when the seedlings began to grow, his government was toppled by the military regime. The project, like so many others, was left hanging, sacrificed at the altar of power politics. Had it been allowed to continue, the results could have been revolutionary. But alas, we got more “status quo” instead of more forests.


The Human Cost

Let’s pause the sarcasm for a moment. Behind every statistic of “hundreds dead” are real families. Mothers wailing for lost children. Farmers staring at drowned fields. Entire communities forced to start from zero, again and again.

This is not just mismanagement. This is criminal negligence. When those who hold absolute power fail to act on a problem they’ve known for decades, the result is blood on their hands. And no amount of ceremonial rescue-photo-ops in helicopters can wash that away.


A Better Way Forward

Now here’s a radical idea: instead of pretending floods are acts of God, why not actually plan for them? Build dams, strengthen embankments, create catchment zones, and invest in early-warning systems. Empower local communities to protect their own land. And yes, prioritize massive tree plantation projects to strengthen ecosystems and minimize climate shocks.

Countries far poorer than Pakistan have done it. Bangladesh, for example, has made significant progress in flood management despite facing harsher natural challenges. But of course, they don’t have our unique “establishment problem” holding them back. Lucky them.


Final Thoughts

Seventy-eight years of absolute power, and yet Pakistan still drowns every monsoon. It’s not fate. It’s not destiny. It’s failure—plain, simple, and repeated. The establishment can build empires of concrete for their cronies, but when it comes to safeguarding the lives of ordinary Pakistanis, suddenly their hands are tied.

Maybe one day they’ll realize that true strength isn’t in parading tanks on Independence Day. It’s in ensuring that no citizen has to cling to a rooftop, waiting for rescue from a flood that could have been prevented decades ago. It’s in letting tree plantations grow instead of letting governments fall.

But until then, brace yourself, Pakistan. Monsoon is coming—and so is another round of crocodile tears, empty promises, and photo-ops from the very people who let this tragedy happen in the first place.


3 responses to “Floods, Failures, and the Fabulous “Vision” of Pakistan’s Establishment”

  1. E.J. Avatar
    E.J.

    This article is a scathing critique of Pakistan’s establishment, exposing its chronic failure to address the country’s recurring flood crises despite decades of absolute power. With sharp sarcasm and biting wit, it highlights the contrast between elite indulgence and the suffering of ordinary citizens who lose everything each monsoon. By weaving in the Kalabagh Dam debate, the abandoned Billion Tree Tsunami, and examples of other nations’ resilience, the piece underscores how negligence, misplaced priorities, and greed have turned preventable disasters into annual tragedies. It is both an indictment of entrenched mismanagement and a passionate call for visionary, climate-conscious reform.

  2. Sohail Khan Avatar
    Sohail Khan

    Your piece hits hard—and honestly, it should. Every year we watch the same scenes of people stranded on rooftops, children wading through waist-deep water, and politicians flying overhead in helicopters like tourists of disaster. You’ve captured that cycle of negligence with brutal clarity.

    I agree with you on one central point: these floods aren’t an act of God, they’re an act of failure. Year after year, we see the same destruction, the same empty promises, and the same refusal to treat water as the lifeline it actually is. The establishment’s obsession with land, plots, and power games instead of infrastructure or climate resilience—it’s not just shortsighted, it’s criminal.

    That said, I think the picture is even bigger (and darker) than just the establishment. Yes, they carry the lion’s share of blame, but provincial governments, bureaucrats, and even parts of society are complicit too. Illegal construction on riverbeds, cutting down forests, ignoring zoning rules—these are not just elite crimes. They’re everyday ones too. The tragedy is that ordinary people pay the price twice: once as victims of floods, and again as scapegoats in a system where accountability never flows upward.

    Your mention of the Kalabagh Dam is spot on, but it also opens up another wound: the deep mistrust between provinces. That mistrust is so deep that even if a dam could save lives, people don’t believe the benefits will ever be shared fairly. This is where leadership—real, visionary leadership—should step in. But instead, we get power-brokers who thrive on division, not solutions.

    I loved your section on trees. It’s almost poetic how such a simple, natural solution—planting and protecting forests—could do so much to change Pakistan’s climate future. But as you said, even good projects like the Billion Tree Tsunami get lost in the shuffle of political score-settling. We’re too busy toppling governments to let actual trees take root.

    What hit me the most in your article was the human cost—the reminder that behind every number is a mother, a farmer, a child. That’s the part we often skip when we talk about “infrastructure” or “policy.” For people living in katcha houses along the riverbanks, this isn’t theory. It’s the difference between living with dignity or losing everything overnight.

    So yes—your article is angry, and it should be. But it’s also necessary. Because sometimes sarcasm is the only way to expose the absurdity of our reality. I just hope, like you, that one day we’ll see real planning instead of photo-ops, real forests instead of deforestation, and real protection for ordinary people instead of just for DHA.

    Until then, as you wrote—monsoon isn’t just rain. It’s another season of betrayal.

    1. Shah Ahmad Avatar

      Thank you for your thoughtful comment—it means a lot that the piece resonated with you.

      On the Kalabagh Dam, I believe the mistrust between provinces has always been presented as the primary excuse, but in reality, the establishment has never had trouble overriding provincial concerns when it suited their interests. They’ve managed to push through far more divisive agendas without batting an eye. To me, the consistent blockage of Kalabagh has less to do with domestic disagreements and more to do with external pressure—pressure that our establishment has repeatedly succumbed to. It’s not that they couldn’t build it, it’s that they never truly wanted to, at least not at the cost of upsetting powerful players beyond our borders.

      Once again, thank you for engaging so deeply with the blog. Comments like yours add richness to the conversation and keep the debate alive on issues that really matter.

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