I came to Pakistan with a purpose rooted in hope — to serve in a once-in-a-lifetime mission: the eradication of polio. To contribute, however humbly, to a future where no child would ever again be crippled by this preventable disease. It is a goal that unites science, the collective courage to dream, the sacrifices of many, and the resolve of ordinary people — and I feel deeply privileged to have been a part of it.
But not long after my arrival, I was met by a different kind of mission — one born of complete devastation.
Less than two months after my arrival, in August 2022 floods of a scale we only read about in ancient texts — floods of biblical proportion — swallowed nearly a third of the country. Over 30 million lives were upended. Families displaced. Futures drowned. It was a crisis this land had not seen in over a century.
These floods were not just a freak of nature — they were the unmistakable fingerprints of climate change. Pakistan, though responsible for less than 1% of global greenhouse gas emissions, is on the frontlines of the climate crisis. Rising temperatures have accelerated glacial melt in the north, intensifying monsoon patterns and overwhelming already fragile infrastructure.
In the best of times, it was difficult to get attention for Pakistan with regards to development and underdevelopment, but during the middle of 2022…. the world’s gaze was fixed on other global crises — particularly the war in Ukraine — the United Nations, including my agency, fought to shine a light on Pakistan’s pain.
We responded. From the flash floods prone mountains of Gilgit-Baltistan and Khyber Pakhtunkha to the farmlands of southern Punjab, from the flood plains of Sindh and Balochistan, we reached millions: delivering safe water, health care, nutrition, safe spaces for children, temporary learning centres for education, and restoring dignity for mothers. And sometimes, simply a warm coat for a child who had lost everything.
It was among the greatest challenges of my career. But also, one of the most deeply rewarding.
Today, I stand here having also witnessed diplomacy at its most urgent — a war nearly sparked between two nuclear neighbors... averted. Crisis after crisis, Pakistan kept us on our feet. There was never a dull moment. It demanded resilience, creativity, compassion — and, above all, humility.
There is a saying we all know: Veni, Vidi, Vici — I came, I saw, I conquered. Julius Caesar’s victory announcement to Rome following a decisive win in the battle of Zela.
But mine is a different story.
I say: Veni, Vidi, Victus.
I came, I saw... and I was defeated.
Allow me to explain what I mean by that.
Not all defeat is loss.
Sometimes, defeat is transformation — when something greater than you reaches into your soul and humbles you. That’s the kind of defeat I experienced in Pakistan.
I was defeated by the sheer, breathtaking beauty of this land.
The towering majesty of the Karakoram and Himalaya ranges, the serene valleys of Hunza and Swat, the rolling hills of Potohar, the vast deserts of Thar and Cholistan, the emerald lakes and mighty glaciers, the poetry of the Indus River weaving life through the heart of the nation — all of it, a canvas painted by nature with unmatched precision.
But more than the land, I was defeated by its people.
I witnessed kindness that transcended language. Hospitality that came without invitation. Generosity that asked for nothing in return.
I watched as everyday Pakistanis — not governments, not aid agencies — were the first to respond to disaster. I saw shopkeepers turn into relief workers, families open their homes to strangers, trucks filled with food and clothing sent by ordinary citizens to those in need.
This is Pakistan: giving, brave, endlessly resilient.
And I was equally captivated by Pakistan’s culture and history — a land where ancient civilizations flourished along the banks of the Indus. Mohenjo-daro, Harappa — sites that remind us of Pakistan’s place as one of the oldest cradles of human civilization. The architectural wonders of Lahore Fort, the poetry of Allama Iqbal, Baba Bulleh Shah and Faiz Ahmed Faiz, the mystical rhythm of qawwali, the intricate embroidery of Sindh, the music of the rabab in KP, the richness of Balochistan , and the diversity of Urdu, Punjabi, Pashto, Sindhi, Balochi, Shina and so many more — each a thread in the vibrant tapestry that is Pakistan.
But...
There is another kind of defeat I must speak about. One that weighs heavily!
It is the defeat that comes from unfulfilled potential. Unfulfilled promise. Unattained dream.
Polio — the very reason I came here — is once again surging. After coming so close to eradication, the virus is now finding space to survive. Insecurity, misinformation, and the erosion of trust have turned this final mile into the hardest yet. It is a painful reminder that progress, no matter how hard-won, can slip away if we do not remain vigilant and united. We must eradicate polio from the face of the earth and with current leadership in the programme and national focus and commitment, I am confident we will.
During the floods, and despite the heroic response by the government, the people of Pakistan, by civil society and NGOs—national and international—and the support and generosity of the international community and the donor community, what I witnessed in the remote areas of flood hit communities was decades of under-development and history of marginalization and abject poverty that I have not seen anywhere else I had served up to now. Remember, I started my career with UN in Kosovo, and served in places like the Darfurs of Sudan, Palestine, Syria at the height of its civil war, and the Sudan during its recent upheavals …..the painful misery I witnessed preceded the floods and were only further compounded by it.
How can a country with such extraordinary talent, beauty, and soul still have 26 million children out of school? How is it that 40% of its children suffer from stunting — and in many parts with emergency levels of severe acute malnutrition? How can we accept that women — who carry the burden and promise of the nation — remain on the margins, with labor force participation just over 20%?
How can a society progress when half of its population is excluded from economic life, from leadership, from public spaces?
Pakistan’s human capital index remains at 0.41. And its real productivity? Just 24% — meaning for every one productive citizen, three are not contributing. This is not a resource deficit. It is a structure that fails to unlock the brilliance within.
Moreover, Pakistan now faces a climate crisis that threatens the very lifeline of the country: For over 5000 years, the Indus River has nurtured civilizations, sustained communities, and shaped the identity of this land and this region. As glaciers recede and weather patterns become more erratic, the future of the Indus — and with it, the future of Pakistan — hangs in the balance. The climate crisis is not a distant threat; it is here, reshaping lives and landscapes in real time and breathing toxic air into the wombs of mothers and the lungs of yet to be born children. Where is the societal response to this very existential threat? Where is the outrage?
The heartbreaking truth is that, too often, the ideals that inspired Pakistan — justice, equality, dignity — feel out of reach. The spirit of Islam, of compassion and fairness, enjoining good and prohibiting evil, the principles with which Pakistan was created is often absent in the institutions meant to uphold it. Following basic rule of law and good governance is always contested and their guarantees are at the whims of the powerful. And for the poor, basic justice feels like a rarely granted privilege.
This is the defeat that hurts the most.
Because this nation is capable of so much more.
And yet, I leave hopeful.
Hopeful because of the people.
Because of the shopkeeper in Sindh who gave away food when he had nothing left. The girl in KP who dreams of becoming a scientist. The engineer in Gilgit building bridges — not just of stone, but of opportunity. The countless women who lead in silence, with strength the world doesn’t always see.
That the spirit of generosity I’ve witnessed will translate into systems that serve and work for everyone. That the unmatched talent of Pakistan’s people — men and women — will finally be free to shape the future. That Pakistan will not only survive its storms but learn to harness its energy to drive progress…a country where its people don’t just survive — they thrive.
That is the hope I carry.
Pakistan is a country where the sum must be greater than its parts — and I believe, one day soon, it can be, it will be.
The dream of Pakistan is not lost.
And if it ever flickers, it is kept alive by its people and friends like you.
…..
I may have come and been defeated — but I leave inspired.
……………
I believe the next decades can be Pakistan’s finest. That the brilliance, the kindness, the courage of its people will carry it forward — past the barriers of inequality and towards a future worthy of its history, future worthy of its potential, future worthy of its children.
Thank you.
Aap sab ka bohat shukriya
Pakistan Zindabad.
