The Uraan Pakistan initiative by coalition government envisions a bold transformation: $100 billion in annual exports, attract $20 billion investment, create 20 million new jobs and reduce poverty by 20% within five years, and a one-trillion-dollar economy by 2035. While inspiring, these goals stand in stark contrast to the harsh realities of widespread poverty, food insecurity, and malnutrition. Nearly 40% of the population lacks access to quality food and clean water with devastating consequences—40% of children under five are stunted, and 30% suffer from wasting. These aren’t just grim statistics but a generational challenge that erodes workforce productivity and undermines the nation’s economic and political stability.
For an agrarian economy, Pakistan’s heavy reliance on food imports is both perplexing and precarious. It exposes millions to global price shocks and supply disruptions. Poor storage and distribution infrastructure lead to significant food losses, driving up prices and making nutritious food inaccessible to the most vulnerable. Meanwhile, the misplaced focus on water-intensive cash crops has diverted resources from food crops, deepening food insecurity.
Though the Indus Basin, once a symbol of abundance, is now overexploited due to inefficient management and climate change, the floodplains present a transformative opportunity to address these challenges. Their potential remains largely untapped. If managed effectively, they could provide more than just abundant harvests of wheat, millet, maize, lentils, and oilseeds while reducing reliance on costly imports. They could also sustain ecosystems of fisheries and livestock, diversifying diets, bolstering rural livelihoods, and meeting domestic protein needs.
For generations, Pakistan’s floodplains have been harnessed as tools of economic ambition, manipulated to serve colonial priorities and, later, modern agricultural imperatives. These floodplains, once pulsating with life and natural wealth, have been fragmented by canals, irrigation structures, and settlements that prioritised cash crops over ecological harmony. This engineered system celebrated as a marvel in its time, has long overstayed its welcome. Now, it’s choking the potential of both the land and the people.
The floodplains of the Indus Basin were never meant to be trapped in the rigid framework of colonial-era agriculture. They were dynamic, self-regulating ecosystems that thrived on seasonal floods, nurturing fisheries, pastures, and fertile soil. The British Empire, however, saw them differently. To fuel their imperial ambitions, they carved these plains into rigid colonies, laying vast irrigation networks to grow crops like cotton and sugarcane. The idea wasn’t just to meet local needs but to funnel resources outward, leaving little consideration for long-term sustainability or local food security.
Post-independence, Pakistan inherited not only this system but also its priorities. Instead of recalibrating, we expanded. Cash crops like wheat and sugarcane were amplified, squeezing out diverse food systems that once ensured a balanced, resilient agriculture. Traditional floodplain benefits— riverine fisheries, seasonal pastures, and naturally replenished soil—were dismissed as relics of the past. In their place came monocultures, water-hungry crops, and a growing dependency on imports for essential foods like lentils and cooking oil.
Decolonising floodplains is not about erasing what exists but restoring balance. It means redefining their role, not as static production zones but as ecosystems capable of boosting agriculture, expanding arid zones, and even supporting trade through inland navigation.
This reliance has made Pakistan’s economy precariously unbalanced. By colonising floodplains for revenue-driven agriculture, we’ve created an agricultural paradox: a country blessed with vast arable land that struggles with food security. The recent floods only highlighted how unprepared this system is to adapt to the changing climate. Instead of mitigating damage, the colonised floodplains amplified it, causing devastation that rippled across lives and livelihoods.
The way forward is not just to tweak this system—it’s to rethink it altogether. Decolonising floodplains is not about erasing what exists but restoring balance. It means redefining their role, not as static production zones but as ecosystems capable of boosting agriculture, expanding arid zones, and even supporting trade through inland navigation.
Active flood zones—the heart of the floodplain—must be allowed to breathe. These are areas where rivers need to flow freely, feeding lakes, wetlands, and seasonal pastures. Restoring these zones would revive fisheries and support wildlife while acting as natural buffers during floods. Extended floodplains, on the other hand, can serve as zones for controlled, sustainable agriculture, supported by modern technologies like solar-powered Riverbank Filtration (RBF) systems. Water from active flood zones could be pumped to these extended areas, ensuring irrigation without compromising ecological integrity.
This shift would also free up water for other transformative uses. For instance, inland navigation—an often-overlooked asset—could thrive. The Indus River system has the potential to become a major trade route, connecting Pakistan’s hinterlands to regional markets. By sparing water for navigation, Pakistan could reduce its reliance on road transport, lowering costs and carbon emissions while integrating into global trade networks more effectively.
In an era where sustainability is increasingly prioritised, countries that demonstrate eco-friendly practices stand to gain access to premium markets and funding opportunities
But the vision doesn’t stop at the floodplains. Decolonising these areas would create a ripple effect, offering solutions for arid zones and deserts like Cholistan and Tharparkar. These regions, historically sidelined, could benefit from restored wetlands powered by the RBF system. Seasonal lakes and vegetation could support livestock, wildlife, and even limited agriculture, turning these deserts into thriving ecosystems without compromising their unique landscapes.
Sustainability must underpin this entire transformation. A pivot away from cash crops would not only strengthen food security but also conserve water resources, restore soil health, and support biodiversity. Climate-resilient crops and diversified farming systems should become the cornerstone of this new strategy, ensuring that Pakistan isn’t just feeding itself but doing so in harmony with its environment.
The broader economic implications are equally compelling. A decolonised floodplain doesn’t just serve domestic needs—it lays the foundation for an export-led growth model rooted in sustainability. Instead of exporting raw materials and depleting resources, Pakistan could focus on value-added agricultural products, leveraging its ecological restoration as a unique selling point in global markets. Sustainable practices are no longer just ethical—they’re marketable.
Such a shift could also draw international investment. In an era where sustainability is increasingly prioritised, countries that demonstrate eco-friendly practices stand to gain access to premium markets and funding opportunities. Pakistan has the chance to position itself as a leader in sustainable agriculture, creating jobs, boosting exports, and enhancing its global standing.
Decolonising floodplains is not just an environmental necessity; it’s an economic opportunity. It challenges us to break free from the constraints of our colonial past and envision a future where Pakistan’s natural wealth works for its people, not against them.
The time to act is now. Climate change is accelerating, and the cost of inaction is rising. Decolonising the floodplains of the Indus Basin isn’t just about undoing past mistakes; it’s about seizing a chance to transform Pakistan’s economic destiny. This isn’t just a strategy—it’s a lifeline. By embracing this vision, Pakistan can turn its rivers from symbols of destruction to engines of progress, ushering in an era of prosperity and resilience.