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.




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