Beauty, defeat and the unbroken spirit of Pakistan

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. 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 - swallowed nearly a third of the country. Over 30 million lives were upended. Families displaced. Futures drowned.

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.

We responded. From the flash flood prone mountains of Gilgit-Baltistan and Khyber-Pakhtunkha to the farmlands of southern Punjab and the flood plains of Sindh and Balochistan, we reached millions: delivering safe water, health care, nutrition, safe spaces for children and temporary learning centres for education.

It was among the greatest challenges of my career. But also, one of the most deeply rewarding.

Crisis after crisis, Pakistan kept us on our feet. There was never a dull moment. It demanded resilience, creativity, compassion - and, above all, humility.

Julius Caesar's victory announcement to Rome following a decisive win in the battle of Zela is apt: Veni, Vidi, Vici - I came, I saw, I conquered.

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.

I was defeated by the sheer, breathtaking beauty of this land.

The towering majesty of the Karakoram and Himalayas, 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 - 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 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 civilisations flourished along the banks of the Indus. Mohenjo-daro and Harappa - sites that remind us of Pakistan's place as one of the oldest cradles of human civilisation.

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.

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.

During the floods, and despite the heroic response by the government, the people, by civil society, NGOs and the support and generosity of the international community, what I witnessed in the remote areas of flood-hit communities was decades of under-development and history of marginalisation and abject poverty that I have not seen anywhere else I had served up to now...the painful misery I witnessed preceded the floods.

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? How can we accept that women - who carry the burden and promise of the nation - remain on the margins, with labour 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? 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 5,000 years, the Indus River has nurtured civilisations, sustained communities and shaped the identify 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 born children.

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. 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.

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 is the hope I carry.

The dream of Pakistan; if it ever flickers, it is kept alive by its people.

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.

Abdullah Fadil 
The writer is the UNICEF Representative in Pakistan