Friends, let’s have a moment of brutal honesty today. We, the people of the media, the so-called “fourth pillar” of the state, have a sickness. I have spent my life in these newsrooms, surrounded by the smell of stale tea and the panic of the deadline. We are addicted to the fire. If a tyre burns on Murree Road, we have five DSNG vans there in ten minutes. If a politician calls another politician a thief, we run a marathon transmission. We sell you fear, we sell you chaos, and we sell you the idea that Pakistan is sinking.

Every night at 8:00 PM, we scream that the world hates us, that the “CPC” designation is an American bomb about to explode on our economy, and that there is no hope.

But while we were busy selling this despair, a man from Karachi, a man named Muhammad Kashif Mirza, was quietly teaching us how to do our actual job. He didn’t shout. He didn’t burn a flag. He didn’t hold a press conference to abuse his opponents. Instead, he boarded a plane to Washington D.C. for the third time in three years, and he took the real story of Pakistan with him.

You see, for years, the narrative about Pakistan’s minorities in the international press has been one-sided. And honestly, we are to blame. When a mob attacks, we show it on loop. But when civil society sits down to draft a law, we are nowhere to be found. It’s “boring.” It doesn’t get ratings.

Kashif changed this. He realized that if you want to save your country from sanctions, you cannot just do good work in the dark. You have to turn the lights on.

The “Hat-Trick” of Engagement

I sat with Kashif recently, and he told me something that should embarrass every assignment editor in this country. He said, “Qazi sahab, we cry that the Western media is biased. But have we ever given them a different picture to look at?”

For three consecutive years, 2023, 2024, and now in 2025, Kashif has attended the IRF Summit in Washington. This isn’t a holiday. This is where the heavyweights sit. I am talking about people like Sam Brownback and Dr. Katrina Lantos Swett. These are the people whose reports can cut off our aid and stop our loans. Usually, Pakistanis go there to beg or to complain.

But Kashif went with a strategy. He didn’t just go to meet the Americans; he went to engage the narrative. He told me about the sessions he organized, not just for diplomats, but for the media. He brought the IRF Roundtable concept to life. He showed that in Pakistan, a bearded Muslim Imam and a Christian Pastor can sit at the same table and break bread.

He asked me, “Why wasn’t our media showing this? Why did I have to go to Washington to show the world that we are fixing our own house?”

Using the Camera for Peace

This is where Kashif’s genius lies. He didn’t treat the media as an enemy; he treated us as a tool that needed sharpening.

He told me about his work with Anila Ali, the brave Co-Chair of the IRF Roundtable Pakistan. Together, they didn’t just hold closed-door meetings with Nadine Maenza from the IRF Secretariat. They made sure that the stories of resilience came out. When they met with the U.S. Embassy officials here in Islamabad, Kashif made sure it wasn’t a secret conspiracy. He normalized it. He showed us that engaging with the world is not “ghaddari” (treason); it is diplomacy.

He engaged journalists here in Pakistan. He invited them to these roundtables. He forced my colleagues to sit and listen to the grievances of the sanitation workers and the fears of the Hindu community in Sindh. He forced the camera lens to shift from the angry mob to the solution builders.

He told me, “Media is a double-edged sword, Junaid sahab. It can incite a riot, or it can build a bridge. I decided to make you build bridges.”

The Award That Shamed Us

And it worked. The world noticed what we ignored.

In August 2025, in the heart of Washington D.C., they gave him the International Award for Interfaith Freedom. It was handed to him by Greg Mitchell, the Co-Chair of the Roundtable. When I saw that picture, I felt a strange mix of pride and shame. Pride, because a Pakistani was being honored. Shame, because we never gave him a headline until the Americans gave him a trophy.

Kashif didn’t let that fame go to his head. He used it. He used that moment to spotlight the role of the media in interfaith harmony. He gave interviews, not to boast, but to educate. He explained that “Soft Image” isn’t about fashion shows. It is about showing that our civil society is mature, professional, and capable of protecting its own minorities without foreign intervention.

The Real Victory: A Bill, Not a Breaking News Ticker

While we were busy analyzing the hairstyle of political leaders, Kashif and his team were doing the unglamorous work of lobbying. They leveraged the IRF platform to push for the National Commission for Minorities Rights Bill.

They used the media pressure constructively. Instead of letting the extremists hijack the microphone, they briefed columnists, they spoke to editors, and they created a consensus that this law was necessary for Pakistan’s survival.

And in December, when the bill passed, it wasn’t just a legal victory. It was a victory of narrative. It proved that if you engage the system, the media, the parliament, the diplomats, you can change the destiny of a nation.

Wake Up, My Friends

So, I write this today as a wake-up call to my community.

Muhammad Kashif Mirza has done his job. He has secured his “hat-trick” in Washington. He has brought home the award. He has helped pass the law. He has saved us, for now, from the worst of the economic sanctions by showing the world that Pakistan is trying.

But what about us? Are we going to go back to selling fear tomorrow? Or are we going to learn from Kashif?

The IRF Summit isn’t a threat; it’s a mirror. And thanks to Kashif, the reflection in that mirror is finally starting to look a little better. It is time we focused our cameras on the builders, not just the destroyers.