INDIA

ACCELARATIONIST CAPITALI$M

Gig Workers: Why Record Deliveries Do Not Mean Fair Work!

Anjali Chauhan | 12 Jan 2026

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The promise and push for 10-minute deliveries have become emblematic of urban platform capitalism.

Image Courtesy: The Leaflet

‘New India’ is not a promise so much as a carefully manufactured myth, of seamless apps, instant gratification, and frictionless growth. It is a story that presents speed as progress and flexibility as freedom, while quietly resting on the exhaustion of those who keep the system running.

On December 31, that myth briefly cracked. On one of the busiest and most profitable nights in the platform economy, over two lakh gig workers across the country logged out. The nationwide strike, called by the Telangana Gig and Platform Workers Union and the Indian Federation of App-Based Transport Workers, with support from worker collectives across states, was a deliberate act of refusal.

As the rest of the country prepared to welcome the New Year with celebration and convenience, gig workers laid bare a more enduring reality, of declining pay, rising risk, and lives governed by opaque algorithms. This was not an isolated moment. An earlier strike on December 25 had already signalled that beneath the polished surface of digital India lies a labour regime built on disposability.

The strike was anchored in a clear and longstanding set of demands. In a formal letter addressed to the Union Minister of Labour & Employment, the Indian Federation of App-Based Transport Workers stated that nearly 40,000 delivery workers participated in a nationwide flash strike on December 25, resulting in significant service disruption across cities. The letter detailed a familiar pattern of exploitation: falling incomes despite longer hours, unsafe delivery models such as the push for ten-minute deliveries, arbitrary ID blocking, algorithmic penalties, and the routine denial of dignity, security, and voice.

Instead of addressing these grievances, platform companies responded with threats, deactivations, and attempts to break the strike through third-party interventions.

The demands placed before the government were neither excessive nor new: regulation of platform companies under labour laws, transparent and fair wages, an end to unsafe delivery timelines, social security including health and accident insurance, and protection of the right to organise and collectively bargain.

In defending the platform economy, Deepak Goyal, CEO of Zomato, pointed to record deliveries on New Year’s Eve as evidence that the system works, that it is resilient, fair, and chosen. But volume is not a measure of functionality. That millions of orders were fulfilled on one of the most intense workdays of the year does not negate workers’ grievances; it underscores how deeply platform capitalism depends on uninterrupted labour, especially during moments of peak consumption. When logging out carries the risk of penalties, lost income, or deactivation, continued participation cannot be read as consent. It is endurance under constraint.

The claim that an unfair system would fail to “attract and retain” workers rests on a dangerous abstraction of choice. In cities marked by unemployment, informality, debt, and shrinking public employment, gig work often appears not as preference but as compulsion. Workers stay not because conditions are just, but because alternatives are scarce. To confuse survival with satisfaction is to erase the structural forces that funnel people into precarious work and keep them there.

Nowhere is this distortion clearer than in the push for 10-minute deliveries, a promise that has become emblematic of urban platform capitalism. If there is anything that should arrive in 10 minutes, it is an ambulance, not groceries or fast food. Yet, platforms have successfully transformed speed into a moral and economic imperative, manufacturing urgency where none exists. This urgency is not neutral. It reorganises city life around convenience for consumers while transferring risk onto workers’ bodies with longer hours, faster rides, greater exposure to accidents, and heightened stress, all in the service of instant gratification.

This is not merely a business model; it is a political economy of urban consumption. Platform companies thrive by converting everyday needs into moments of artificial emergency, where delay is framed as failure and slowness as inefficiency. In this regime, workers are disciplined not only by algorithms but by the constant pressure to keep the city moving, fed, and satisfied. That millions of orders were delivered on New Year’s Eve does not prove fairness. It reveals how deeply exploitation has been normalised as progress.

The December strikes were not a rejection of work, technology, or the city. They were a rejection of a system that demands speed without safety, flexibility without security, and work without rights. When gig workers logged out on December 25 and again on New Year’s Eve, they reminded us that convenience is never neutral and that progress cannot be measured only in orders delivered or minutes saved. These were not acts of disruption but of articulation: a collective insistence that labour in the digital economy must be recognised, regulated, and dignified.

If India’s platform economy is to claim the language of the future, it must confront the conditions of the present. A model that depends on manufactured urgency, precarious incomes, and the invisiblised endurance of workers is not sustainable, nor is it just. The choice before us is not between growth and labour rights, but between an economy that extracts until exhaustion, and one that values the lives that keep it running.

The writer is a Doctoral Researcher at the Department of Political Science, University of Delhi. The views are personal.

 

US: Anti-ICE Movement Grows in Wake of Renee Good’s Killing

Devin B. Martinez | 12 Jan 2026

The ICE killing of Renee Good has sparked nationwide protests that have been met by federal force, arrests, and renewed “domestic terror” rhetoric from the Trump administration.

Anti-ICE signs during protest in San Diego. Photo: Micah Fong

Protests against Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE) are escalating across the United States. Mobilizations are calling for the arrest of Jonathan Ross, the ICE agent identified as Renee Macklin Good’s killer, and the abolition of ICE altogether.

Tens of thousands of people rallied in Minneapolis on Saturday, January 10, in the largest demonstration yet since Good’s killing.

On Friday, January 9, hundreds of protesters descended on the Hilton hotel in Minneapolis where they believe ICE and federal agents are staying. Using everything from cymbals, noisemakers, and drums to pots and pans (and even fireworks), waves of noise reverberated for several blocks and continued through the entire night.

Hundreds of riot police and state troopers were deployed to the noise protest. 

Minneapolis Police Chief O’Hara had initially signaled alignment with community concerns and opposition to the federal operation. However, the noise protest highlighted the tension between federal agencies and local communities when law enforcement declared the gathering an unlawful assembly. Heavily-armed officers confronted crowds even as they demanded that those same forces arrest ICE agent Jonathan Ross and remove the federal presence from the city.

From Minneapolis to main streets nationwide, protestors mobilize

Immediately after the fatal shooting of the 37-year-old mother by an ICE agent in Minneapolis on January 7, residents began gathering at the site of the killing, demanding “ICE out of our communities!”

Thousands gather at vigil in Minneapolis after the killing of Renee Good by ICE agent Jonathan Ross. Photo: Bobby A

By that evening, thousands had flooded the residential neighborhood where Good, who had been participating in an ICE watch, was shot three times in the face in her vehicle. Makeshift memorials appeared that night, with residents placing flowers, candles, chalk tributes, and messages honoring Good.

Simultaneously with the vigils and protests in Minneapolis, cities across the United States, including New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, Philadelphia, Washington DC, Chicago, Boston, New Orleans, Phoenix, Columbus, San Antonio, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, and many others, broke out in protest demanding justice for Good and all victims of violence by ICE.

Throughout the country, waves of people marched through the streets calling for the abolition of ICE and demanding the arrest of Jonathan Ross. Speeches condemned the federal government’s attempt to label Good a “domestic terrorist”.

Ross has currently not been convicted of any crime related to the shooting, and is reportedly still an active duty officer at this time. US Vice President JD Vance even said during a press conference that the ICE agent would be immune from prosecution.

Although the protests erupted after Good’s killing, they have quickly expanded into a nationwide condemnation of militarized federal operations. Throughout 2025, ICE, Customs and Border Protection (CBP), the National Guard, and other federal forces have been deployed in various US communities resulting in multiple shootings, including the deaths of Keith Porter Jr. in Los Angeles and Silverio Villegas González in Chicago, as well as the wounding of Marimar Martinez. On Thursday, January 8, a Venezuelan couple were shot and injured by CBP agents in Portland.

This pattern of violence has galvanized communities beyond Minnesota, setting the stage for widespread resistance.

Anti-ICE protests widen into broader political resistance

”It is not enough to feel sad about what happened to Renee,” said Claudia De La Cruz, executive director of IFCO Pastors for Peace, during a speech at a rally on January 8 in Newark, NJ.

“What will make it enough is organizing, is mobilizing, is fighting, and winning!”

Many areas saw mass mobilizations, despite freezing weather, rain, and difficult conditions.

“Abolish ICE!” crowds chanted, and “Not a penny, not a dollar, we won’t pay for ICE’s slaughter!”

“We have a terrorist government that has terrorist agents, terrorizing our communities, kidnapping our people, and killing our people with impunity!” shouted Cruz to a roaring crowd.

Palestine flags and keffiyeh’s were visible at many of the protests, alongside flags from various Latin American and Caribbean countries. 

Mobilizations are increasingly becoming a wider condemnation of the Trump administration. With speakers highlighting the violence of the recent US invasion of Venezuela and the kidnapping of its president, Nicolás Maduro.

“These issues are always interconnected,” said one protester at a rally in Portland. “What the United States is doing intervening abroad in Venezuela. What the United States is doing here to our people at home.”

Placards read “Hands Off Venezuela!” and “Down with US imperialism!” 

This convergence of issues follows the months-long escalating US war on Venezuela, alongside intensifying militarized ICE operations in US communities. Trump’s rhetoric about the alleged threat of the Tren de Aragua gang and drug trafficking has been instrumental in justifying both campaigns in parallel.

Chants like “Healthcare and education, not war and deportation,” were part of the chorus of protests, framing the ICE killing as part of a system of “terror” by the US government both within the US and beyond its borders.

ICE intensifies violence in the wake of Good’s killing

On January 8, the day after Good’s killing, video surfaced of ICE agents firing chemical agents, pepper balls and pepper spray, at students at Roosevelt High School at dismissal time. Witnesses said the armed, masked officers came onto campus and began tackling people, dragging people on the sidewalk, and tussling with several students as bystanders shouted and blew whistles.

One school official told MPR News: “The guy, I’m telling him like, ‘Please step off the school grounds,’ and this dude comes up and bumps into me and then tells me I pushed him, and he’s trying to push me, and he knocked me down.”

“I’ve never seen people behave like this,” the official added. “They’re just animals.”

Citing “safety concerns”, Minneapolis Public Schools abruptly cancelled classes across the district for the remainder of the week.

Another video, during a demonstration in Minneapolis, shows an ICE agent pulling his gun on a protester, placing the barrel just a few inches from the person’s face.

Makeshift barricades, made of pallets, debris, and old Christmas trees, began to appear that same day on the street where Good was killed.

Law enforcement officers have reportedly met demonstrations with force, chemical agents, and arrests. At least 11 protesters were reportedly arrested on January 8 and 30 were arrested January 9 in Minneapolis.

Federal narrative clashes with local outcry

Meanwhile, the Trump administration has doubled down on its defense of the ICE killing in Minneapolis and its rhetoric that Renee Good was a “domestic terrorist”. They claim Good tried to run the agent over with her vehicle, but video footage sharply contradicts the claim. The federal government has promised to intensify deportation operations further.

Minnesota state officials have demanded to be involved with the FBI’s investigation of the killing. However, as of Friday, January 9, Hennepin County Attorney General Mary Moriarty said they still have “no access to evidence collected by the FBI.”

At the same time, the community is also rallying behind Good’s family. In a statement released to Minnesota Public Radio on Friday, Good’s wife, Becca Good, said:

“On Wednesday, January 7th, we stopped to support our neighbors. We had whistles. They had guns.”

She added, “I am now left to raise our son and to continue teaching him, as Renee believed, that there are people building a better world.”

A grassroots fundraiser has surpassed USD 1 million for Renee Good’s family, which includes three children.

Protests surge into their fourth day and beyond

Protests continued into the weekend in Minneapolis and across the country. With over 1,000 protests being organized for the coming weeks. Mobilizations broadly feature coordination between labor unions, immigrant rights groups, Palestine solidarity organizations, anti-war groups, socialist parties, anti-racist groups, and more.

As a renewed movement emerges, organizers and supporters say they view Good’s death not as an isolated tragedy but as a catalyst for sustained resistance against federal enforcement practices they see as “a reign of terror” and  “a war against working class people”. 

Groups are vowing to continue the struggle until ICE is gone for good.

Courtesy: Peoples Dispatch

PAKISTAN’S WINDING ROAD TO THE BOMB

Farhatullah Babar 

Published January 11, 2026

EOS/DAWN

LONG READ

Zulfi kar Ali Bhutto (left) pictured alongside Munir Ahmad Khan (centre) and Dr Abdus Salam (right) during the inauguration ceremony of the Karachi Nuclear Power Plant (Kanupp) on November 28, 1972 | PAEC



BHUTTO’S SUMMIT WITH SCIENTISTS

I had not yet joined the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission (PAEC) and was working as an information officer in the Press Information Department (PID), where each information officer is responsible for servicing the media needs of one or more ministries.

On a cold January day in 1972, a colleague in the PID responsible for media projection of scientific organisations talked about a planned meeting of the country’s scientists. President [Zulfikar Ali] Bhutto had called the meeting to frankly discuss what role they could play in national defence and security, he said. Where and when it was to be held, he was not sure. It would be at some undisclosed secret venue, he said.

He also said that prominent scientists and engineers had started arriving in Islamabad, waiting to be taken to the conference venue, which was known only to a few. There was confusion about the venue. When the word spread that it would be held in Quetta, some scientists actually travelled there, making their own private arrangements. In the morning, a military aircraft airlifted a precious human cargo of scientists and engineers from Islamabad. But instead of Quetta, it landed at Multan. Those who had already arrived in Quetta were herded to Multan in a special Pakistan Air Force aircraft.

No one was sure of the conference’s purpose. Some excited scientists, before leaving their homes, only told their families that they would be out of station for a few days without disclosing where they were going. Having been personally invited by the head of state, everyone felt elated.

Even though the purpose had not been officially declared, there was a sense among the scientists that Bhutto wanted to salvage the country in the wake of the loss of East Pakistan. He wanted to seek the support of the scientific community and raise the morale of the people, they conjectured.

In January 1972, at a secret meeting, Pakistan’s top scientists were tasked by President Zulfikar Ali Bhutto with one objective: build an atomic bomb, no matter the cost. At the heart of this endeavour was Bhutto’s handpicked nuclear expert, Munir Ahmad Khan. For two decades, Munir Ahmed Khan worked behind a thick veil of secrecy, building key nuclear structures in a race against time, sanctions and even smear campaigns. In Beyond the Bomb: Munir Ahmad Khan and Pakistan’s Nuclear Odyssey, Farhatullah Babar details the story of the unsung architect of Pakistan's atomic programme. Eos presents, with permission, excerpts from the book recently published by Lightstone Publishers…

In private conversations, they recalled that Bhutto outlined his views on foreign and security policies in his 1969 book The Myth of Independence. As a minister in [Gen] Ayub [Khan]’s cabinet, he had failed in his mission to make Pakistan nuclear. But now he was the president himself, and a great opportunity was knocking at his door.

Pakistan had not only suffered defeat at the hands of the Indian army, but it had also lost half of the country and more than half of the population. China also had not applied pressure on India’s border, and Pakistan had suffered a permanent strategic loss by the cessation of East Pakistan.

The Multan Conference was aimed at inspiring the scientists and engineers to commit themselves to delivering. The Chief Scientific Adviser to the president, Dr Abdus Salam (later Nobel Laureate), was also on board the special flight from Islamabad. A younger colleague later recalled Dr Salam saying, “I think they are going to make us bite the dust.”

Excitement grew as they neared Multan. An army bus was waiting to collect the cream of scientists as they disembarked in Multan. Shamiaanas covered the spacious lawns of Nawab Sadiq Qureshi’s — a PPP [Pakistan Peoples Party] leader and Governor of Punjab — residence in Multan, to host the first-ever face-to-face meeting between scientists and the country’s president.

The conference brought together science luminaries from all over the country, including the chairman of the PAEC, the versatile and outspoken Dr I.H. Usmani. Professor Abdus Salam had also flown in from abroad. The attendees also included Munir Ahmad Khan, a nuclear engineer with international credentials. He had flown in from Vienna, where he was in charge of the nuclear power and reactor division of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA).

It was a historic moment in Pakistan’s journey toward nuclear development. Scientists and engineers took turns addressing pressing issues in science and technology, with particular focus on how quickly Pakistan could achieve atomic capability. Criticism voiced at the conference ranged from lamenting the misallocation of funds for building physical infrastructure to issues with trained manpower and a lack of planning and motivation. Some voiced concerns about bureaucratic red tape, while others passionately demanded respect and recognition.

After several scientists had spoken, Bhutto rose to speak. The chatter in the pandal stopped. There was a pin-drop silence as eager eyes turned towards him.

Bhutto began his address by recalling with anguish the surrender and national humiliation in December 1971 and vowed to restore the lost national honour. He then told the audience that he had invited them to seek their help. He addressed them directly, face-to-face, and excited them. Only a month earlier, Pakistan had witnessed its darkest hour: the secession of East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, following a humiliating defeat in the Indo-Pakistani war. The nation’s wounds were fresh, its pride shattered. Amidst the ruin, Bhutto’s speech kindled in the gathering the spark of resolve that would forever alter the trajectory of Pakistan’s history.

Bhutto’s words resonated with the scientists. In Multan, he was not merely outlining a policy; he was igniting a movement. Masterfully blending pragmatism with patriotism, he quoted from history. He spoke about the transformative power of nuclear technology, instilling enthusiasm in the audience. He cited India’s steady march toward atomic capability as both a challenge and a provocation. Pakistan’s survival in the regional power matrix required a matching response.

Dr Mujaddid Ahmed Ijaz (extreme left), Munir Ahmad Khan (centre) and Dr Abdus Salam (extreme right) at the International Nathiagali Summer College on Physics and Contemporary Needs (INSC) in 1976 | Ijaz Family Archives



When the crowd of scientists was sufficiently charged, Bhutto directly asked how they could help meet the threat to the nation’s security. India possessed not only superiority in conventional weapons, it was also building nuclear weapons.

“Can you meet India’s nuclear challenge?” He asked them, promising “all the resources you may need.” He had challenged the scientific community at a time of the lowest national morale, and the scientists were ecstatic.

Curiosity was replaced by enthusiasm. The enthusiastic ones believed they could do it even if some of their colleagues disagreed. The atmosphere was electric, tinged with the weight of what lay ahead.

As the discussions unfolded, the pandal crackled with ideas, projections, and debates about feasibility, resources and time frames. The scientists understood that achieving nuclear capability was no small feat — it was a herculean task and a willingness to defy all odds — but they were ready. There were a few who were sceptics, also mindful of the technical roadblocks, but a shared sense of purpose united all.

MORE THAN A CONFERENCE

Scientists fell over one another to convince the president they could deliver on the promise. The president was amused as he watched them engage in a shouting match. “Yes, yes, sure, we can deliver,” the scientists shouted back in unison, almost like children on a playground, a scientist later recalled.

When a scientist claimed that Pakistan had already reached a “take-off stage” in the nuclear field, Bhutto said, “There is no such thing as the take-off stage. Either we take off or we are left behind.”

President Bhutto deplored that we had been left behind in almost every aspect of national life, especially in science, technology and education.

How long will you take to deliver, he asked them. The scientists did not expect such a pointed question from the head of state. Already charged with enthusiasm, the meeting turned into near pandemonium. Scientists made claims and counterclaims about how soon it would be done.

Some said it would take five years; others thought it would take longer. The overenthusiastic claimed to do it in less than a year, while the realistic ones said at least five years were needed. Everyone was eager to catch Bhutto’s attention.

When a young engineer jumped and almost shouted, “Five years, Your Excellency, five years!” Bhutto asked him to sit down.

On the dais, the chairman of PAEC, Dr I.H. Usmani and Dr Salam looked at each other. As a young scientist claimed that they could make the bomb in three years, Usmani nudged Professor Salam, sitting next to him, with his elbow.

Usmani, the pioneer of nuclear energy in the country, believed that Pakistan was a long way away from acquiring nuclear capability. “We will never be able to make it, we do not have the infrastructure,” he whispered in his ear, Salam later recalled to me.

When Salam asked him whether he disapproved of the quest to go nuclear, Usmani told him, “How can I refuse the president anything? I am only trying to be realistic.”

Usmani then said, “Listen, morally I can disagree with a nuclear weapon, but I will not. I know what Bhutto wants and I want to help him.”

Usmani then rose on his seat.

“With all respect, Mr President,” he said, “but I think that we should look into the eye of truth.”

At present, Pakistan does not possess a thing that justifies the optimism in this pandal, he said. “We do not have any metallurgists or a steel industry.” Usmani had the courage to speak his mind in front of the president and a charged crowd of enthusiastic scientists.

Perhaps Dr Usmani was not wrong. As head of the organisation for a decade, he knew better. There was no infrastructure in place needed to go nuclear. It took more than a decade after the Multan Conference for Pakistan to conduct its first cold nuclear tests, in March 1983, and complete its nuclear fuel cycle projects.

(Left to right) Professor Ishfaq Ahmad, Ghulam Ishaq Khan, Gen K.M. Arif and Munir Ahmad Khan at the cold test site | Beyond the Bomb


A young engineer was keen to speak but was ignored each time he raised his hand to ask for the floor. Just as the next speaker was about to take the floor, Bhutto, pointing towards the young engineer, said, “No, no, that man over there.”

“Mr President, all I want to say is that we have a research institute in PINSTECH [Pakistan Institute of Nuclear Science and Technology] at Nilore. Local people call the nearby bus stop ‘Nilore Bum Factory.’ They believe that the atom bomb is the saviour. They also hope that the bomb will be produced in this building. But what are we doing here? We can make it if tasked,” he said.

Bhutto listened intently.

The young man was Sultan Bashiruddin Mahmood, later the first project director of the uranium enrichment project at Kahuta and much more.

As the scientists differed over how soon the bomb could be made, Bhutto raised his hand and stretched out three fingers. Everyone was silent. He wanted the bomb made in three years. All eyes had turned to him.

“Can I have this from you in three years?” he then asked. “Yes, yes,” the scientists responded in chorus, vowing not to disappoint him.

The Multan conclave of scientists marked the starting point of Pakistan’s strategic nuclear programme. The dye was cast that day.

The Multan Conference marked the genesis of a long and arduous journey. Pakistan’s pursuit of nuclear capability was as much a battle against external pressures as it was a test of internal resolve. In the years that followed, the country faced a barrage of international sanctions, diplomatic isolation, and economic challenges. Yet, the vision set in motion that January day in Multan endured.

The Multan Conference remains a pivotal chapter in Pakistan’s history, its significance extending beyond the realm of nuclear technology. It set Pakistan on a path that continues to shape its identity and policies.

More than a chatter of enthusiastic scientists, it was a solemn promise to deliver. More than a conference, it was a defining moment.

BHUTTO SELECTS MUNIR AHMAD KHAN

Amidst fervent exchanges at the Multan Conference, President Zulfikar Ali Bhutto once again raised his hand to signal that he had an announcement to make. The chatter in the pandal fell silent, all eyes fixed on him.

Turning towards Munir Ahmad Khan, seated on the podium, Bhutto declared, “From today, Munir Ahmad Khan will be the new chairman of the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission.” Munir Ahmad Khan was thus entrusted with the responsibility of advancing the nuclear programme, aligning it with Bhutto’s bold vision.

Bhutto’s faith in Munir Ahmad Khan seems to have been rooted in their past association, which began when Munir Ahmad Khan worked at the IAEA in Vienna. He had established himself as a distinguished nuclear engineer and shared a common vision with Bhutto about the role of nuclear technology for the country’s development and survival.

In December 1965, Bhutto, then Pakistan’s foreign minister, accompanied President Ayub Khan during an official visit to London. Bhutto orchestrated a meeting of Munir Ahmad Khan with President Ayub, aiming to persuade the latter to invest in nuclear reprocessing technology. Despite Munir Ahmad Khan’s compelling arguments, Ayub remained unconvinced, placing reliance on China’s “nuclear umbrella” in case Pakistan needed it. After the meeting, a disappointed Munir Ahmad Khan was reassured by Bhutto: “Do not worry—our turn will come.”

That turn came in 1972. Bhutto, now the president of Pakistan, positioned Munir Ahmad Khan as chairman of PAEC, signalling a new chapter in the pursuit of his ambition of making Pakistan a nuclear power.

Following Munir Ahmad Khan’s appointment, Dr I.H. Usmani, who had served PAEC with great distinction for over a decade, resigned from his position. While Dr Usmani laid the groundwork for scientific development, Munir Ahmad Khan was tasked with a transformative mission: to translate Bhutto’s vision of a nuclear Pakistan into reality.

In his address, Bhutto noted what he called a “process of erosion” which he said had set in the country as a result of the events of December 1971. He wanted it addressed urgently. In the realm of science and technology, he wanted to launch a “crash programme” to nurture indigenous talent. He wanted to create a pool of at least a hundred scientists, bringing home expatriate Pakistani talent, and instituting prestigious awards for the talented. He wanted to ensure that Pakistan’s nuclear ambitions were powered by its own people.

THE UNSUNG HERO

Munir Ahmad Khan’s emphasis on secrecy and a low profile was one of the reasons for his remaining unsung. But this was not the only reason. He remained unsung also because his criticism of the tendency to seek personal projection at the expense of the nuclear programme displeased a powerful lobby that cherished personal publicity.

He was uncomfortable when some contemporaries liked to advertise their achievements and flaunted nuclear capabilities, terming it irresponsible. He said that scientists, bureaucrats and generals in other countries do not publicly make tall claims about their capabilities. No scientist in India, Israel or any other country had publicly made such claims.

A former army chief publicly made some claims in the mid-nineties that appeared to him unwise. With carefully chosen words, he strongly criticised him in a newspaper article. He said that what the ex-army chief had said amounted to Pakistan making a fool of the US president for continuing to certify, on the advice of the US Embassy in Islamabad for three years from 1987 to 1990, that Pakistan did not have nuclear capability or a device. He predicted that such irresponsible rhetoric would cost Pakistan dearly.

Naturally, those in high places seeking personal publicity did not like it and turned against him.

When, in May 1988, Pakistan demonstrated nuclear capability, individual scientists in another organisation scrambled to claim credit for bomb-making, cherishing the spotlight. In doing so, some scientists excelled over others. The PAEC scientists were trained in his [Munir Ahmed Khan’s] nursery with a rigid code of restraint for two decades. They remained tight-lipped even at that time of national celebrations.

While there was no one to speak for him, his detractors had a field day. When he retired, he launched a vigorous campaign advocating to curb nuclear rhetoric. He and his associates in the PAEC paid a heavy price for this restraint. He endured all this with grace.

Despite his remarkable achievements in bringing Pakistan to the world nuclear map, he was not lauded. His achievements were not recognised during his lifetime. For 20 years, the cold nuclear tests that were carried out under his watch had remained a guarded secret.

He denied himself and the team limelight through self-projection, adhering to the strict secrecy codes. He did not advertise his achievements to safeguard the safety and security of the nuclear programme. He believed that advertising personal achievements would damage the programme by attracting adverse international response.

In his memoirs, Professor Riazuddin, the quiet theoretician behind the bomb, has said: “All the strategic nuclear infrastructure was completed during the tenure of Munir Ahmad Khan as chairman of the PAEC. Thus, all the key elements, except uranium enrichment, were already in place, including conducting cold tests and building tunnels in the Chagai mountain for carrying out underground nuclear tests when needed. In spite of all this, he didn’t get the credit he deserved and remains an ‘unsung hero.’”

He had raised the bar of secrecy so high that it deprived his team of due recognition. When in office, he never mentioned in public the word “cold nuclear tests”, let alone reveal that it had indeed been successfully carried out way back in the early 1980s.

His detractors ensured that Munir was not honoured in his lifetime. While others were decorated with the highest civil award twice, Munir Ahmad Khan was denied it. [Asif] Zardari had long been aware of Munir Ahmad Khan’s work, since his wife, Benazir Bhutto, was prime minister. During his first term as president, he posthumously awarded the unsung hero in 2012 with the highest civil award, the Nishan-i-Pakistan. His family received the award.

In a world often seduced by the allure of spectacle, the power of restraint is the most profound virtue, but it does not come without a cost. Munir Ahmad Khan’s life and the price he paid demonstrated this truth. He exemplified it throughout his career in his disdain for self-promotion and his advocacy for nuclear discretion. His steadfast belief that nuclear capabilities must never be flaunted distinguished him as a leader of extraordinary foresight. He was willing to pay a price for it.

His ethical philosophy was that nuclear capability is not a status symbol but a grave responsibility. It needed strategic silence and avoiding rhetoric that could provoke adversaries or attract unnecessary global attention. He clearly understood that self-promotion in this sensitive domain was counterproductive and dangerous. The success of Pakistan’s nuclear programme lay in the collective effort of a well-knit team in complete secrecy, not in individual accolades.

He never sought cheap popularity, denied himself newspaper headlines, and declined to advertise the Commission’s achievements. He kept a low profile and disliked anyone making provocative, inflammatory statements to grab headlines.

The brandishing of nuclear capability was anathema to him. He believed that bravado, brandishing nuclear capability or advertising achievements did not serve the national interest. A natural consequence of this worldview was that he and his team were not acknowledged for their work.

His commitment to restraint placed him at odds with those in positions of power. But he was not deterred and continued to be vocal in condemning nuclear rhetoric. Later, when talking about the former army chief’s public statement, he said, “Farhatullah, it was more than a lapse in judgment; it was a breach of trust.”

He viewed such declarations as reckless and an invitation to international sanctions. He foresaw adverse diplomatic fallout and the damage it could inflict. His frustration stemmed not only from the immediate consequences but also from the long-term implications of eroding the trust of global powers.

Unfortunately, he did not live long enough to see the day when his warnings against the dangers of irresponsible nuclear behaviour proved true.

The world was shocked when, in 2006, Gen Pervez Musharraf disclosed in his memoirs, In the Line of Fire, how a clandestine proliferation network had been in existence in Pakistan for a long time, and blamed one lone individual for it. The network had actually been busted by the CIA in 2003, and Musharraf was forced to acknowledge it in his 2006 memoirs. Ignoring Munir’s warnings cost the nation dearly.

The legacy of restraint was both his formidable strength and a great burden. While it was meant to shield Pakistan’s nuclear programme from external threats, it also allowed his detractors to dominate the narrative. His posthumous recognition, with the highest civil award, was a bittersweet moment for his family and colleagues. It was a long-overdue acknowledgement of his role in placing Pakistan on the global nuclear map while also underscoring the quiet pain of a life spent in service without recognition.

His life is a powerful reminder of humility and restraint in leadership. When egos clash and ambitions run high, quiet dedication to the collective good is his enduring legacy. Prioritising responsibility over recognition and wisdom over bravado while remaining personally self-effacing shall resonate as his legacy.

Excerpted with permission from Beyond the Bomb: Munir Ahmad Khan and Pakistan’s Nuclear Odyssey by Farhatullah Babar, published by Lightstone Publishers

The writer is a former senator and served as the director of information at the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission (PAEC) under Chairman Munir Ahmad Khan

Published in Dawn, EOS, January 11th, 2026

Consent on trial: How Pakistan’s courts are failing rape survivors

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.

Zofeen T. Ebrahim 

Published January 10, 2026 

DAWN


Earlier this month, Pakistan’s Supreme Court (SC) 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 Rs500,000 to Rs10,000, 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 per cent of gender-based violence (GBV) incidents go unreported. Of those reported, the national conviction rate stands at just 5pc, with some categories as low as 0.5pc and domestic violence convictions at 1.3pc.

Senator Sherry Rehman highlighted the stark figures: in 2024, Islamabad recorded just seven convictions out of 176 reported rape cases. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa reported one conviction from 258 cases, Sindh reported no convictions despite 243 cases, and Balochistan recorded 21 rape cases with no convictions.
Legal precedent or social regression?

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

The SC 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 (LHC) upheld the verdict. Yet at the SC, 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 of 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, UN women country representative, 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 LHC 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.
Marriage, consent and the law — A dangerous grey area

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 GBV 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 17pc in 2025, from 5pc 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.

Header image: A woman carries a sign and chants slogans during a rally to mark International Women’s Day in Lahore, Pakistan March 8, 2019. Reuters/Mohsin Raza/File Photo

Note: This article was originally published in Inter Press Service and has been reproduced here with permission.


Zofeen T. Ebrahim is an independent journalist based in Karachi.
She tweets at @zofeen28.

Could Trump pull a Venezuela on Iran?

As inflation soars and the rial crumbles, Iran’s streets erupt in protest, while the world waits to see who will step in, or stir the fire.

Sidrah Roghay 

Published January 12, 2026

DAWN

For Komeil Soheili, an Iranian filmmaker, the latest protests in the Islamic Republic did not come as a surprise.

“People are exhausted after the 12-day war with Israel,” he said over the phone. “It’s the uncertainty. You can’t even plan for the near future because things keep changing.”

Iran is buckling under mounting economic pressure. Inflation has exceeded 36 per cent since March. The rial has lost roughly half its value, trading at around 1,390,000 to the US dollar. Sanctions linked to Iran’s nuclear programme have returned, utilities remain strained, and global financial bodies are forecasting a recession in 2026.
Unrest, at the worst possible time

Iran’s most significant protests since 2022 erupted around two weeks ago among traders and shopkeepers in downtown Tehran, triggered by the rapid collapse of the rial, which has driven up prices and left traders unable to restock goods.

Isolated market shutdowns in Tehran’s commercial districts quickly escalated into street demonstrations, drawing in wider sections of the public and prompting security deployments. Like falling dominoes, the unrest spread to other cities, claiming dozens of lives, according to rights groups.

Last week, major Iranian cities were gripped overnight by new mass rallies denouncing the Islamic Republic, as activists expressed fear that authorities were intensifying their suppression of the demonstrations under the cover of an internet blackout.

The crackdown follows what was initially a relatively soft response, with Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian calling for a kind and responsible” approach, acknowledging public frustration. The government had also announced cash handouts to ease economic woes.

The regime appears to have shifted its tone since, accusing the US and Israel of orchestrating the protests. “The enemy has infiltrated trained terrorists into the country. Rioters and saboteurs are not the protesting people. We listen to the protesters and have made our utmost efforts to solve their problems,” Pezes­hkian said.

The US, meanwhile, has offered to “help” the Iranian people, and the Trump administration also reportedly discussed the possibility of strikes targeting Iran.

Posting on social media on Saturday, US President Trump said: “Iran is looking at FREEDOM, perhaps like never before. The USA stands ready to help!!!”

In a phone call on Saturday, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and US Secretary of State Marco Rubio discussed the possibility of US intervention in Iran, according to Reuters.

Meanwhile, addressing parliament on Sunday, Iran’s speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf warned the US against any miscalculation. If the US attacked, “both the occupied territory and centres of the US military and shipping will be our legitimate targets,” he told lawmakers. The warning came hours before Trump disclosed that Iran’s leadership had called seeking “to negotiate”.

“The leaders of Iran called yesterday,“ Trump told reporters aboard Air Force One, adding that “a meeting is being set up … They want to negotiate.”

However, Trump added that “we may have to act before a meeting“.

The timing could have hardly been worse.

US jets had just flown into Venezuela and captured President Nicolas Maduro and his wife. Maduro was taken to New York, and footage posted online showed him blindfolded in a grey tracksuit — an unsettling image, regardless of one’s politics.
A cat-and-mouse relationship

Miles away, in Tehran, Venezuela’s anti-American ally felt the pressure.

Could Trump pull a Venezuela on Iran, its longest adversary?

“We know that Donald Trump is not a reliable president, and he doesn’t care about international law,” said Soheili.

Iran and the US have long shared a cat-and-mouse relationship. Washington has consistently viewed Iran’s nuclear programme and its network of regional proxies with suspicion.

In 2020, an American strike killed Iran’s most revered military commander and foreign policy architect, Gen Qasem Soleimani. In June 2025, US jets struck key Iranian nuclear sites as Iran, shaken but defiant, fought a brief war with Israel.

Iran is a signatory to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), which allows non-nuclear states to pursue civilian nuclear energy under international inspections. Tehran insists its programme remains peaceful, a claim disputed by the United States and its allies, who argue that Iran’s enrichment levels exceed civilian requirements. Iran, for its part, has repeatedly accused Washington of selectively enforcing the treaty while ignoring violations by its partners, including Israel.

Following the Iran-Israel war, sweeping UN sanctions lifted under the 2015 nuclear deal were reimposed, while Tehran suspended nuclear inspections, effectively freezing its remaining commitments under the agreement.
Trump’s oil gambit

Iran, no stranger to the consequences of foreign intervention, was quick to condemn Washington’s actions in Venezuela as a “clear violation” of sovereignty and international law.

“In past decades, interventions were justified under slogans such as democracy and human rights,” Iran’s foreign ministry spokesman Esmail Baghaei said on Monday. “Today, they openly say the issue is Venezuela’s oil.”

After Maduro’s capture, Trump promised that American companies would gain access to Venezuela’s vast oil reserves. “We’re going to be taking out a tremendous amount of wealth out of the ground,” he told reporters.

After vowing to “run” Venezuela, Trump later softened his tone, saying the United States would not deploy troops if the country “does what we want.”

Venezuela holds the world’s largest proven oil reserves, accounting for roughly 17pc of the global total, according to the US Energy Information Administration.

That is another point of comparison with Iran.

As the United Nations and states around the world debate the legality of Trump’s move, one thing is clear: the US president has moved on from peacemaker to interventionist. And that shift is making Tehran uneasy.
Iran on edge

Inside the country, the debate has already begun.

Pro-Iran outlets have quietly explored the implications.

“Following the US military attack on Venezuela and … Donald Trump’s threatening remarks … a serious question has emerged: could Tehran be the next target of Washington’s adventurism …,” wrote Nournews, an Iran-based digital news outlet.

Tehran-based foreign policy expert Mohammad Khatibi agrees that there is cause for concern.

“Yes, in light of what has occurred in Venezuela, there is clear reason for concern. Threats of intervention and open advocacy for regime change raise serious questions under international law and established norms,” he told Dawn.

That said, he cautioned against drawing direct parallels.

“From a geopolitical perspective, Iran is a central regional power in the Middle East with deep strategic depth, strong state institutions, and significant influence across multiple regional theatres,” he added.

Khatibi asserted that any attempt to replicate the Venezuelan model in Iran would therefore carry far greater risks of regional escalation and international confrontation.

Iran’s leverage in the Middle East has rested not only on its military capabilities but also on its network of allies and proxies, including Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. An attack on Iran could create ripples through the region.
Apples and oranges?

Syed M. Ali, a security studies lecturer at Johns Hopkins University, cautioned against overstating the comparison.

“It is somewhat like comparing apples and oranges,” he said. “While the Venezuelan action will be tough for the US to justify internationally, this intervention is motivated by Trump’s desire to reassert hemispheric hegemony, which resonates with the historical Monroe Doctrine (a policy opposing European colonialism in the Americas, asserting that any foreign interference in the Western Hemisphere would be seen as a threat to US interests).”

Iran’s regional position, he added, makes any direct intervention far more complicated. And with the events happening in Gaza, the public perception not just in the Muslim world but also in the West has moved against the nexus between the US deep state and Israel, which act in tandem.

“After Iraq and Afghanistan, there has been little appetite for that kind of operation. Iran is not as isolated as it once was. There has been a rapprochement with Saudi Arabia. These are the reasons why I say Trump’s statement is more rhetorical — intended to increase pressure for change within Iran.”

While comparisons with Venezuela fuel anxiety, Tehran’s regional influence makes any direct foreign intervention unlikely — at least for now.

In turbulent times, hope often becomes a strategy.

Amid internal frustrations, a faltering economy, and the shadow of international pressure, ordinary Iranians are left clinging to the hope that cautious diplomacy, rather than confrontation, will chart the path forward.


Sidrah Roghay is a journalist with over 15 years of experience in Pakistan, Turkey and US newsrooms.

‘Good night and good luck’

Political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism.

Muhammad Amir Rana 

Published January 11, 2026 

DAWN

The writer is a security analyst.


MCCARTHYISM is a ghost that survives within political and institutional systems. It thrives on witch-hunts, rejects scrutiny, and shields itself with distorted logic, manufactured fears, and convenient lies. It brands itself as the custodian of ‘true patriotism’, while relegating all dissenters to the category of the less loyal. Today, this spectre is once again dominating parts of the world, including the US and Pakistan.

George Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck captures this phenomenon by revisiting the confrontation between journalist Edward R. Murrow and Senator Joseph McCarthy during the 1950s. The term ‘McCarthyism’ itself emerged from the senator’s methods, which included wild accusations hurled without proof, careers destroyed on suspicion, and a climate of fear promoted to silence critical voices.

Yet the film does not unfold McCarthy’s character as much as it peels back the layers of the newsroom. It shows how editorial boundaries, commercial pressures, and fear of losing business gradually suffocate journalistic courage. It reminds us that compromises do not arrive abruptly but creep in quietly. But it also shows that there is always a way out, a path that begins with vigilance, integrity and the refusal to accept intimidation.

Though set in the 1950s, Good Night, and Good Luck resonates with today’s local scenario in which political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism where narratives are policed, loyalties questioned and fear weaponised. The film invites us to reflect not only on history, but on our own moment.

Political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism.

An op-ed piece cannot do a full film review, and there is no plan to act as spoiler for those who have the film on their watch list. However, Cole Porter’s famous 1940s’ song, I’ve Got My Eyes On You, which also has the line ‘I’m checking all you do from A to Z’ has been masterfully used in the film and one can easily understand the context.

These are difficult times for journalism, especially the kind that once stood firmly against McCarthyism. The challenge intensifies when the media landscape drifts towards sensationalism and embraces the notion, as referenced in the film, that ‘yellow is better than red’. Those who attempt to expose strong-arm tactics today face familiar reprisals: loss of advertisements, government pressure, accusations of being unpatriotic, and even direct threats.

Yet vigilance makes all the difference. Logic, objectivity and professional reporting covering all essential angles of a story remain possible, though not without hardship. Whether in Gaza during Israel’s genocidal campaign against Palestinians, the recent events in Venezuela or the tragic incident in Minneapolis that law enforcement and President Donald Trump attempted to cover up, segments of the media have continued to perform their professional responsibilities despite immense pressure.

The world over, those subscribing to the tenets of McCarthyism, in every age, remain obsessed with the idea that hidden forces or subversive actors are out to destroy a nation. They believe only a coercive approach can confront such imagined threats. Witch-hunts become their tool; ‘witchcraft’ their political art. For those unfamiliar with the origins of this mentality, Europe’s experience between the 15th and 17th centuries is instructive. That era saw widespread accusations of witchcraft amid political instability, famine, disease, economic crises, and religious conflict. The clergy scapegoated ‘witches’ — mostly poor women — and Heinrich Kramer, a priest, authored the Hammer of Witches, a manual that claimed that the devil targeted women, especially those who defied husbands and social norms. Kramer weaponised fear with pseudo-logic, legitimising the witch trials that haunted Europe for nearly two centuries.

The ‘McCarthyism’ of any age depends on the same logic of ‘witchcraft’ and witch trials. If journalists or media groups anywhere come under pressure, the reason is often simple: they are challenging the McCarthyism of their time.

Pakistan has a long history of confronting a similar state-led approach — from sanctions and censorship under the Press and Publications Ordinance of 1960, which empowered the state to shut down newspapers and arrest journalists, to the pre-publication censorship imposed during the Bhutto and Zia regimes, and later the clampdowns, bans, and channel closures witnessed under Nawaz Sharif and Gen Pervez Musharraf. Since then, restrictions have only become more layered, whether under the PTI government or the PDM-led administrations.

Although a large proportion of media groups and even well-known journalists have compromised at various stages, a small but resilient community of journalists, along with a few strong-nerved media owners, has continued to challenge these pressures. Zameer Niazi documented much of this struggle, but in recent years, two important accounts have emerged from senior journalist Hussain Naqi. The first is his memoir, Mujh Se Jo Ho Saka, and the second is a compilation of an extended interview conducted by Dr Syed Jaffar Ahmed, published under the title Jurat-i-Inkaar. Both works capture not only Naqi’s personal journey but also the collective struggle that defines Pakistan’s political, social and journalistic history over the last seven decades.

This is, in many ways, a Pakistani version of Good Night and Good Luck, a narrative that deserves equal praise and could well be adapted into a screenplay. Hussain Naqi’s story makes one truth abundantly clear: subscribers to the McCarthy approach in successive Pakistani regimes have believed that the media is responsible for creating political instability and chaos. They succeeded in silencing the press for years, sometimes for entire decades, yet the country never escaped chronic instability.

Instead of reassessing their approach, they continue to rely on the same tactic of suppressing dissent, a strategy that has never produced the desired outcomes, nor is likely to in the future. The title of the film is borrowed from the famous line in Romeo and Juliet, ‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow”. But the film also subtly invokes another Shakespearean truth: “The fault … is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”


Published in Dawn, January 11th, 2026



Muhammad Amir Rana is a security analyst. He is the Director of Pak Institute for Peace Studies (PIPS), Islamabad, Pakistan.