Years ago, I was accompanying a Japanese quality expert visiting Pakistan when he encountered a safety lapse at a hotel. The management quickly offered him a free upgrade. Instead of being pleased, he refused and insisted on leaving the hotel altogether.
What he wanted was not compensation, but an investigation to ensure the mistake never happened again. For him, prevention mattered more than face-saving. That moment revealed a larger truth: while some cultures insist on finding causes, in Pakistan, our instinct is to cover up.
In our national vocabulary, ‘mitti pao’ (let it go) has become more than a phrase; it is a way of life. Whether in government or daily affairs, we prefer quick fixes. Instead of asking why something went wrong, we rush to patch the surface. The result is that the same problems persist, often in more damaging forms.
Take floods. Every monsoon season brings devastation, and the reflex response is to announce another grand dam or a headline-grabbing project. Yet assessments after the 2022 floods, which submerged a third of the country and affected 33 million people, revealed a more complex story: extreme rainfall, melting glaciers, poor urban planning, encroachments on waterways and broken drainage systems. However, since only cosmetic measures were implemented, with no significant progress made in curbing riverbed encroachments or maintaining drains, the impact of the current 2025 flooding has been even more severe. These are institutional failures that new dams alone cannot fix. Spending billions on fresh concrete while leaving existing systems neglected is no more than a cosmetic cure.
Or consider Lahore’s smog. Every winter, the city chokes and the government responds with school closures, temporary bans or even spraying water on roads. Such measures may ease public anger for a week, but do not touch the underlying drivers of pollution. Studies show that the mix is clearly dominated by vehicle emissions, crop-residue burning, brick kilns, construction dust and unchecked industrial activity. As a result, toxic particles in the air far exceed safe limits, imposing enormous health costs. Without tougher regulations, cleaner fuel and modern technology in kilns and vehicles, the smog will return year after year.
The same ‘patch instead of fix’ approach defines Karachi’s water crisis. The city routinely faces severe shortages, even though a large share of available supply never reaches consumers. Utility studies estimate one-third of the supply is lost to leaks, theft, or mismanagement. At the same time, a parallel tanker economy flourishes, selling water back to those failed by the piped system at inflated prices. The result is artificial scarcity, deep inequality and huge economic costs. Yet instead of repairing networks, ending theft, and upgrading distribution, officials resort to emergency tankers or ad-hoc projects that only entrench dependence.
Why this pattern? Because admitting root causes means confronting uncomfortable truths. Illegal construction worsens floods. Powerful lobbies resist pollution controls. Neglected infrastructure leaks water that could serve millions. Facing these realities risks political fallout and does not fit short electoral cycles. It is easier to announce a dam, close schools or dispatch tankers than to engage in the hard, messy work of reform.
Japan’s philosophy of ‘Kaizen’ – the discipline of repeatedly asking ‘why’ until the real cause is found – offers a striking alternative. The aim is not to punish but to prevent. Mistakes are studied, not buried. That culture of continual improvement reshaped institutions and industries, delivering durable value to citizens.
Pakistan is not short of talent. Our engineers, doctors and planners excel abroad. But at home, a culture of cosmetic fixes holds us back. Imagine flood management that begins with enforcing zoning laws, restoring floodplains and clearing drains before the rains arrive. Imagine a smog policy focused on cleaner fuels, stricter emissions checks and retrofitted brick kilns instead of temporary bans. Imagine water reform that prioritises fixing leaks, cracking down on theft and upgrading distribution rather than normalising tanker mafias.
The difference between progress and stagnation lies in whether a society rewards truth or appearances. Today, appearances too often win. The price is visible: flooded homes, poisoned lungs, empty taps and mounting bills. Until we replace ‘mitti pao’ with root-cause thinking, we will keep mistaking band-aids for cures.
Changing this mindset requires political courage and civic honesty. Pakistan’s future resilience depends on leaders and citizens willing to ask the harder questions and act on the real answers.
The writer is a consultant and trainer with a focus on sustainability,
governance and quality of life in Pakistan.