The sound of gunfire fades, but its echoes linger. A funeral procession moves slowly through the streets, mourners walking in silence, their eyes heavy with grief. Another brave soldier has been laid to rest. Another scholar, assassinated in cold blood. Another innocent life lost to an enemy that thrives on chaos.
Yet, as the nation mourns, the same cycle repeats. Statements of condemnation flood in from officials, vows of revenge are made, and for a brief moment, there is outrage. But soon, the urgency fades, and life returns to normal until the next tragedy forces us to pause once again.
For years, Pakistan has been engaged in an unrelenting war against terrorism. The battle has been fought in the mountains of Waziristan, on the streets of major cities, and even in the sacred spaces of mosques. Soldiers have laid down their lives in ambushes and counter-terror operations, scholars have been gunned down for speaking against extremism, and countless civilians have been caught in the crossfire of an enemy that recognizes no humanity.
But amid all this bloodshed, one question remains unanswered: why are these sacrifices still necessary? Why do we continue to rely on the valor of our martyrs instead of fixing the systemic failures that make these losses inevitable?
Pakistan’s war on terrorism has never been about a lack of bravery or resilience. The country’s armed forces have time and again crushed insurgencies, dismantled terror networks, and reclaimed territory from extremists. The problem is not the soldiers on the frontlines; it is the failures within the very system they fight to protect. Every time a tragedy strikes, the military steps in to restore order, but where is the intelligence infrastructure that should have prevented it?
When a scholar is assassinated for exposing extremist ideologies, why was he not given the security he needed before his voice was silenced? When security forces uncover a terror plot, why was it allowed to be hatched in the first place?
This is not victory it is survival, and survival alone is not enough.
The Army Chief recently stated that Pakistan must stop functioning like a “soft state.” A soft state is one where laws exist but are rarely enforced, where institutions are weak and rely on the military to fill the gaps, where terrorists and their facilitators continue to operate with impunity, and where political agendas overshadow national security.
For too long, Pakistan has operated within this framework, allowing reaction to take precedence over prevention. Terrorists may be eliminated, but the networks that sustain them continue to regroup. Their facilitators may be arrested, but new ones always emerge to take their place. This cycle will never end unless the roots of the problem are addressed.
The governance failures that have allowed extremism to persist cannot be ignored any longer. Political instability, weak institutions, and a lack of a clear national security policy have left vacuums that militant groups are more than willing to fill.
Instead of a strong, coordinated effort to dismantle these networks, there is hesitation, bureaucracy, and in some cases, even appeasement. Every time security forces launch a counterterrorism operation, it is a temporary fix to a much deeper problem. Without strong civilian governance, these victories remain fragile.
Pakistan cannot afford to function like this any longer. National security cannot be treated as a matter of political debate it must be an undisputed priority.
The fight against extremism is not just the responsibility of the military; it is the duty of the entire state. Intelligence sharing must improve, institutions must be strengthened, and most importantly, the state must take ownership of this fight rather than relying solely on the sacrifices of its soldiers and citizens.
The blood of our martyrs is sacred, but it is not a substitute for good governance. The question is not whether Pakistan has the strength to defeat terrorism it does. The real question is whether it has the will to ensure that such sacrifices are no longer necessary.
How many more funerals will it take before we stop reacting and start preventing? How many more lives must be lost before we acknowledge that this is not just a battle of bullets, but of governance, strategy, and vision?
The time for reflection is over. The time for action is now.
