Why I Proudly Support Pakistan’s Ban on Indian Medicines

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride when Pakistan drew that definitive line in the sand by banning pharmaceutical and other imports from India. For too long, we relied on our neighbor for up to sixty per cent of the active pharmaceutical ingredients (APIs) and finished medicines that keep our hospitals stocked—anti-rabies serums, MMR vaccines, Onco-BCG cancer treatments, monoclonal antibodies and even anti-snake-venom. Every diplomatic spat risked cutting off our life-saving drugs; every flare of tension threatened shortages in our clinics. By severing that umbilical cord, we struck a hard, strategic blow at New Delhi’s export revenues and proved that Pakistan can chart its own course.

When intelligence briefings began to reveal that a share of Indian import revenues was finding its way—directly or indirectly—into the coffers of militant proxies waging terror campaigns on our soil, the rationale for continued trade evaporated. I still remember poring over reports that linked funds channeled through ostensibly legitimate pharmaceutical shipments to the financing of bombings in Karachi markets and IED ambushes on rural roads. It was ghastly to consider that every vial of anti-tetanus serum or life-saving cancer drug might be underwriting the next attack on innocent Pakistanis. Confronted with this grim reality, I understood why Islamabad concluded that business as usual was no longer tenable.

As soon as the government announced the pharmaceutical embargo, I watched regulators swing into action. The Drug Regulatory Authority of Pakistan (DRAP) and the Ministry of National Health Services reactivated contingency plans drawn up after the 2019 crisis. Within days, they had green-lit new partnerships: China, already supplying roughly forty per cent of our API requirements, was asked to ramp up shipments of antibiotic precursors, vaccine intermediates and crucial biological compounds. I took heart from news that Bangladesh’s generics industry would soon deliver bulk APIs and finished formulations, while Malaysia and Indonesia geared up to export vaccine intermediates and chemical reagents. Even South Korean biotech firms and select European manufacturers began lining up to fill the gaps.

That rapid pivot delivered real results almost overnight. I no longer fret over the possibility of running out of anti-rabies immunoglobulins or equine anti-thymocyte globulin. Shipments from Beijing now arrive on a steady schedule, Bangladeshi generics fill the shortfalls, and Malaysian and Indonesian compounds keep our vaccine production lines humming. We’ve even secured agreements for monoclonal antibody therapies, once an Indian monopoly, to be imported from Seoul and Frankfurt. In practical terms, we’ve neutralised the threat of supply-chain hostage-taking—and dealt a sharp economic blow to India’s pharmaceutical exporters.

Of course, the transition wasn’t without its hurdles. I’m aware that Indian APIs were often the cheapest on the market—sometimes a fraction of the cost quoted by Western suppliers—and that testing and registering new sources can take months. But these short-term sacrifices are trivial compared to the imperative of ending the financing of terror within our borders. I’ve heard colleagues ask, “Why should we bankroll a neighbor whose proxies bring violence to our villages?” Their question captures the moral clarity of our decision: every rupee spent on hostile imports was one too many.

To soften the impact on patients, the government fast-tracked customs clearances and regulatory approvals for all critical imports—MMR vaccines, anti-snake-venom serums, methotrexate, Onco-BCG and beyond. I commend the special inter-ministerial committees now monitoring stock levels daily, ensuring that no hospital ward goes unprotected. Their work has been vital in reassuring clinicians and pharmacists that patient care needn’t suffer while we rebuild our supply chains.

Beyond pharmaceuticals, I’ve watched with satisfaction as Pakistan diversified its wider imports. Textiles now flow in from Turkey, electronics from Malaysia, automotive parts from Japan and South Korea, and agricultural machinery from Europe and China. I’ve even spoken to consumers who cheerfully accept marginally higher prices on these non-Indian goods, recognizing that the true cost of cheap imports had become measured in blood and instability. Through a combination of government policy and public solidarity, we’ve turned what was once a vulnerability into a testament to our collective resolve.

Unsurprisingly, the reverberations have reached New Delhi. Indian industry groups are fretting over lost revenues and idle factories, while commentators concede that economic interdependence cuts both ways. By refusing to import Indian pharmaceuticals and consumer goods, we’ve shown that trade relations cannot be taken for granted—and that sovereignty demands we never allow commerce to bankroll violence.

Strategically, our bold stance has sent a message far beyond South Asia. Nations grappling with asymmetric threats must heed our example: economic ties cannot become conduits for terror financing. By cutting off the funds that once underwrote attacks on our citizens, Pakistan has reclaimed its right to stability and health. In doing so, we’ve also broadened our diplomatic horizons—deepening ties with China, forging new bonds in Europe and South Korea, and reducing New Delhi’s perceived leverage over us.

On the home front, I’m heartened by signs that this policy is stimulating investment in our own industries. Plans are already underway for new API plants, backed by technology transfers, and research into indigenous medicinal resources is gaining momentum. Vocational training programmes are expanding to staff these facilities, laying the foundation for long-term capacity and job creation.

Yes, challenges remain. Port logistics need streamlining, currency fluctuations must be managed, and robust customs enforcement is essential to curb smuggling. But I am confident that, united in purpose, we will overcome these obstacles. Pakistan’s trade break with India is not an act of spite; it is a decisive act of self-defense. By refusing to subsidies our own insecurity, we have delivered a knockout blow to those who would trade in terror—and asserted that the health and safety of our people will always come first.

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and beliefs of ARYNews or its management.