Islamabad needs smarter security, not more roadblocks

Many years ago, while supervising security arrangements for a high-profile visit, I stood at a roadblock watching traffic build up under the afternoon sun. Drivers were frustrated, motorcycles squeezed through gaps, and pedestrians searched for alternate routes. Amid the confusion, an elderly man approached carrying a sick child in his arms. He was trying to reach a nearby hospital. “How long, Sahib?” he asked quietly. I looked toward the convoy route and realized I had no clear answer.

Security was necessary. The threat was real. But had caution begun to outweigh common sense? The suffering of common people caught in the disruption was equally real. Since then, I have often reflected on a difficult question: how do we protect society without making society pay an unnecessary price?

A city usually wakes up to an ordinary morning. Children head to school, patients rush to hospitals, office workers hurry to work, and shopkeepers open their businesses. Then a convoy moves. Roads are sealed, traffic freezes, and daily life comes to a standstill. Hours later, normality returns until the next closure.

For residents of Islamabad and other major cities, this has become a familiar experience. Security arrangements for foreign delegations, political gatherings, protests, cricket matches, and VIP movements increasingly shape the rhythm of urban life. The question is no longer whether security is needed. It is whether security can be provided without disrupting the lives of millions.

Pakistan faces genuine security challenges. Decades of terrorism, political violence, and targeted attacks have left deep scars on the national psyche. The 2009 attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team in Lahore remains a painful reminder of how a single incident can damage a country’s image for years. Assassinations of national leaders and attacks on high-profile targets continue to haunt security planners.

Governments cannot afford such failures. A successful attack on a foreign delegation, a major sporting event, or a senior public figure can have far-reaching diplomatic, political, and economic consequences. Faced with such risks, security planners often err on the side of overprotection. Their caution is understandable: failures are remembered far longer than successes. But should security become synonymous with paralysis?

One reality often goes unspoken. Large-scale physical security arrangements are frequently a response to limitations in actionable intelligence. When authorities know where a threat exists, they can focus resources accordingly. When they do not, everything becomes a potential threat and everyone a potential suspect. Uncertainty is then managed through inconvenience.

This has gradually produced a security culture that often values visibility over effectiveness. Citizens see checkpoints, barriers, flashing lights, convoys, and armed personnel. These measures create an impression of control, but visibility is not always security. Effective security is intelligence-led. Less effective security relies heavily on displays of force and restrictions on movement.

A modern state must protect foreign guests, public officials, and national events. But it must also protect the dignity of common citizens trying to reach work, school, hospitals, and homes. A secure city is not one where traffic stops for power. It is one where life continues safely for everyone

Dr. Syed Kaleem Imam-

Over time, what was once reserved for heads of state and a handful of senior officials has expanded considerably. Escorts, route clearances and protocol-based security have become increasingly common. Regular motorists are pushed aside while selected individuals move uninterrupted through the city. The message, intended or not, is simple: some people’s time matters more than others.

The costs go beyond frustration. Ambulances can become trapped in diversions. Patients struggle to reach hospitals. Doctors and nurses face delays. Parents worry about children stuck on blocked roads. Residents living near major venues often complain that large events bring more disruption than benefit. During cricket tournaments, many openly question whether the excitement inside the stadium justifies the inconvenience outside it.

There is another cost that receives far less attention. Every officer assigned to convoy duties, route clearances, static security, and protocol arrangements is an officer diverted from other responsibilities. Police exist not only to protect designated individuals but also to prevent crime, investigate offenses, respond to emergencies, and engage with communities.

As security commitments have expanded, so has the demand for manpower. Police, civil armed forces, and sometimes military personnel are increasingly tied up in security cordons. The result is a troubling paradox: the more resources devoted to protecting the few, the fewer remain available to serve the many. Citizens complain about rising street crime while watching large numbers of uniformed personnel deployed elsewhere.

The answer, however, is not bigger security but smarter and less visible security. Pakistan should continue investing in Safe City projects, surveillance systems, and intelligence capabilities. These tools can help move us away from manpower-heavy and disruption-based models toward intelligence-led and risk-based approaches. Road closures should be precise rather than expansive. Technology should replace unnecessary barriers, and public communication should improve so citizens can plan around disruptions.

Most importantly, public convenience should be recognized as a legitimate security objective. Equally important is community trust. Citizens who trust their institutions are more likely to cooperate, share information, and support security efforts. In the long run, public confidence can be as valuable as any security barrier or checkpoint.

A modern state must protect foreign guests, public officials, and national events. But it must also protect the dignity of common citizens trying to reach work, school, hospitals, and homes. A secure city is not one where traffic stops for power. It is one where life continues safely for everyone. The true measure of security is not how effectively we can shut a city down, but how effectively we can protect people while allowing life to move forward.

—The writer holds a PhD and is a former federal secretary, inspector general of police and UN police commissioner. He teaches law and philosophy at universities. He tweets @Kaleemimam. Email: [email protected] and fb@syedkaleemimam.