By Waqas Aziz
When I first heard the name of Group Captain Asim Tariq, my heart trembled. He was a stranger to me. I had never met him. All I knew was that a woman was on the road and someone was allegedly trying to assault her.
At that moment, I wondered: What would an ordinary person do? Take out a phone? Start recording a video? Or simply walk away thinking, “Why should I get involved?”
But that day at Shaheen Chowk, a father, a husband and the father of a daughter stepped out of his vehicle. He was not wearing his uniform. He was simply wearing his conscience. And his conscience told him: “No. She is my sister.”
Islamabad will not forget that afternoon of July 5, 2026.
Group Captain Asim Tariq resisted. He became a shield. Then a gunshot was fired. When he fell, he did not fall alone. He fell carrying with him the belief that there are still people in this country willing to risk their lives to protect a daughter’s dignity.
When his funeral procession was held, the country mourned in silence. ISPR described it as being conducted with full military honors. But no honor can truly compensate for such a sacrifice.
A widow was left behind. A daughter was left without her father — a father whose hand she may still have wanted to hold on the way to school. A son was left without the father he may have wanted to play cricket with.
Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi called him a “national hero.” But even the word hero seems too small. Heroes are often associated with those who win battles or matches. Asim Tariq was someone who lost his life so that someone else could preserve her dignity.
Then came another incident.
At the Sarhad University Rawat campus in Islamabad, a video went viral. An officer was reportedly angry. The situation escalated, a physical altercation took place and aerial firing caused panic on campus.
I wondered what would happen next. Would social media explode with accusations? Would people say, “Look what a uniformed officer is doing”? Would the institution protect its own?
But within a short time, the news came: The officer had been taken into custody and an inquiry committee had been formed. ISPR issued a statement emphasizing that the system stands on justice and that anyone found responsible would face the law.
This is where the difference becomes clear.
There are many armies in the world. But what does it say about an institution when it honors its fallen soldiers while also holding its own personnel accountable when they are accused of wrongdoing?
That, to me, is the meaning of discipline.
Sacrifice and Accountability — Two Sides of the Same Coin
We are human. People make mistakes. Anger can lead someone to take the wrong step.
The officer involved in the university incident was also a human being. According to the account presented, he rushed to the campus after his wife was allegedly mistreated. He became angry and, instead of allowing the law to take its course, allegedly took matters into his own hands.
That was wrong.
But the important question is: What did the institution do?
Did it hide the matter? Did it defend the officer simply because he belonged to the institution?
No.
The officer was taken into custody and an inquiry was ordered.
That is what discipline means. It means that personal relationships and institutional affiliations cannot place anyone above the law.
On the other hand, there was Asim Tariq.
No one had ordered him to intervene. He was not carrying out an official assignment. He could have simply passed by. But he stopped.
Because somewhere inside him was the belief that when a daughter is in danger, you cannot simply remain silent.
On one side was sacrifice. On the other was accountability.
And between the two stood one word: dignity.
The dignity of the daughters of this nation.
And the dignity of the uniform.
So Why the Propaganda?
Now comes the most painful part.
On the day of Asim Tariq’s funeral, some social media accounts began describing the incident as an “alleged encounter” and questioning the account of his death.
On the day the university officer was taken into custody, other accounts described the incident as an attack by the military on students and accused the institution of “fascism.”
I have one question: Where has our sense of responsibility gone?
A mother has lost her son. A daughter has lost her father. How can his sacrifice be casually reduced to an “allegation”?
An institution took action against one of its own after an incident on a university campus. Why should accountability itself be portrayed as oppression?
I believe there are people who do not object to sacrifice or accountability on principle. What troubles them is the possibility that the public may see an institution capable of both.
They have a problem when a uniformed officer acts courageously.
They also have a problem when a uniformed officer is held accountable.
Perhaps the real issue, then, is not the uniform itself. Perhaps it is the narrative people want the public to believe about that uniform.
A Child’s Simple Answer
Last week, I visited a friend’s house. His father is an Army colonel. His sister is 10 years old.
I asked her, “Does it scare you when your father leaves for duty?”
She replied, “Uncle, Dad says he is there because of people like us. If people like him were not there, anyone could trouble us.”
That one sentence says more than an entire column could.
Group Captain Asim Tariq was also someone’s father. He was someone’s daughter’s “Dad.” He was not on official duty that day. He was simply a human being who saw another person in distress — and chose to act.
The officer involved at Sarhad University was also someone’s husband. If the allegations against him are established, he was wrong to take the law into his own hands.
But the institution’s response sent another message: Personal relationships do not place anyone above accountability.
One Final Thought
I am not a spokesman for the military. I am an ordinary Pakistani.
I have a sister who could be on a university campus. I have a wife who could be in a market. I have a mother who could be alone at home.
And I know this: If there is no one like Asim Tariq willing to stand up when a woman is in danger, then tomorrow my own sister could face a similar situation.
I also know that if institutions stop holding their own people accountable, tomorrow another officer may begin to believe that the law does not apply to him.
So, for God’s sake, do not dismiss a fallen soldier’s sacrifice without evidence.
And do not dismiss institutional accountability as a mere performance without evidence.
This uniform is a wall around our homes.
Do not throw mud at that wall.
Group Captain Asim Tariq, we cannot repay the debt we owe you. Perhaps the least we can do is tell our daughters:
“Do not be afraid. If someone ever tries to harm you, remember that there are still people in this country who are willing to stand up for you, even at the cost of their lives.”
And to the students of Sarhad University, we should say:
“Raise your voice. Demand your rights. Protest peacefully. But also remember that institutions must be held to the law — because the same institutions are expected to protect you when you need them.”
This is Pakistan.
This is what sacrifice and accountability should mean.
The sacrifice is ours. The accountability is ours. The dignity is ours.
May Allah elevate the ranks of Group Captain Asim Tariq and grant patience to his family. Ameen.
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