The government of Balochistan has decided to take strict action against government employees involved in anti-state propaganda and activities. Orders have been issued to all commissioners and district officers to identify such employees and initiate legal proceedings against them. Chief Minister of Balochistan, Mir Sarfraz Bugti, has warned that every educational institution in the province must ensure the recitation of the national anthem and the hoisting of the national flag. Heads of institutions failing to comply with these orders will be removed from their positions.
Restoring law and order is the top priority, and no road in the province will be blocked. Every district officer is responsible for maintaining the state’s writ in their respective areas. Implementing state directives is the constitutional duty of every government official and employee. Those unwilling to work according to government policies should voluntarily resign.
By making these statements, Sarfraz Bugti—who has long worked for the establishment—has essentially admitted that the state’s authority in the province has collapsed. It is not just terrorists but also government employees, students, and a large segment of the local population who have become uncontrollable. Bugti has been Chief Minister for a year, and before that, he served as the federal interior minister in a lengthy caretaker setup. Yet, he has achieved nothing significant. So how can one expect that he will succeed now?
Meanwhile, the situation in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is deteriorating. It has been officially recorded that Chief Minister Gandapur has instructed provincial security officials not to confront the TTP, warning that if they do, PTI will meet the same fate as ANP and PPP did in the past. On one hand, there is a severe law and order crisis, and on the other, PTI’s provincial leadership is under pressure to use all possible means—fair or foul—to secure Imran Khan’s release. How can a government caught between the establishment and Imran Khan, while simultaneously walking contradictory paths, ever reach its destination? It’s simply impossible.
Now, let’s turn to Punjab, where, admittedly, more work is being done than in any other province. However, the only true measure of performance is how much relief is provided to the public. A few days ago, Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz made a surprise visit to Jinnah Hospital, where she found appalling conditions. She dismissed the principal and suspended the Medical Superintendent. Anyone in her position would have taken the same action. But the real issue is accurate information—if the Chief Minister is not being informed about the actual situation, how can she take corrective action?
It is not just the bureaucracy but also certain ministers who are trying to suppress the truth in the media. The healthcare system is in shambles. A key provincial minister admitted helplessly that PTI spread corruption so deeply that even they are struggling to contain it. In other words, no department is functioning properly.
Recently, a government member revealed in the Punjab Assembly that the police have split into two rival factions. The common man has always suffered, but now even influential figures are being harassed. A well-connected and active personality in Lahore called and reported that police had brutally beaten children attending an academy. When their parents arrived, the police mistreated them as well. When I suggested that he personally intervene, he expressed helplessness, saying that the officers now in charge get offended and even threaten those who approach them for help.
Imagine what will happen when the Chief Minister begins raiding police stations.
As for Sindh, feudal dominance and rampant corruption have long been the norm, and there seems to be no end in sight. One doesn’t need a long charge sheet—just consider the case of young Mustafa Amir, who was brutally injured and burned alive by his so-called friend, Armaghan Qureshi. Armaghan, operating from the heart of the city, ran a call center and engaged in numerous illegal activities. He employed 70-80 young men and women, kept dozens of luxury cars at his house, and stockpiled enough modern weaponry to arm a private militia. He even had around 100 personal guards.
This case has exposed multiple issues, including drug trafficking, money laundering, fraud, and staged police encounters. But while the prosecution highlights police tampering with reports to sabotage the case, both the judiciary and law enforcement seem intent on protecting the accused. It’s clear that Armaghan is not alone; powerful backers—possibly even partners—stand behind him.
Sindh has become a hub for crime, beyond just social and civic issues.
Meanwhile, the federal government continues its activities, but the decades-old sugar crisis remains unresolved, exposing deep flaws in governance and justice.
When the Army Chief asks how long security forces must shed their blood to fill the gaps left by poor governance, he is absolutely right.
The real question, however, is: Who will take the bold steps needed to fix these issues?
How long will the common man continue to suffer under the crushing weight of bad governance?