Land in Sindh has never been merely a piece of property. For millions of people, it represents a livelihood, an ancestral connection, a source of food, a place for grazing animals, a settlement for generations and, perhaps most importantly, a form of economic security. In a province where land is deeply connected with history, identity and survival, decisions involving thousands of acres cannot be treated as ordinary administrative matters.
That is why recent decisions concerning large areas of Sindh’s land deserve serious public scrutiny. The question is not whether Pakistan needs modern agriculture, investment or a strong national defence. It does. The real question is much more fundamental: when thousands of acres are placed under the control or use of powerful institutions, are these decisions being made transparently, fairly and with sufficient protection for the people who have lived on, worked on or depended upon that land? This is where the debate begins.
50,600 Acres at Dhabeji: Defence Requirements and the Question of Local Communities
The Dhabeji case illustrates just how complicated the question of state and federal land can become. According to proceedings before the Sindh High Court, 50,600 acres at Dhabeji were notified for military field firing and manoeuvre exercises through notifications issued in 1999 and 2004. Around 115 petitioners approached the court, claiming that their villages had been affected.
What makes the matter particularly significant is that different government officials provided different accounts concerning the land. Reports submitted by deputy and assistant commissioners indicated that the Defence Ministry claimed an area of approximately 50,000 to 51,000 acres. At the same time, villages, graveyards and other lands were reportedly situated within the area.
The military estate officer, meanwhile, told the court that 13,500 acres had been transferred by the Sindh government to the Defence Ministry without compensation for defence purposes. Another report stated that the original 13,500 acre lease had been granted for 99 years, while a subsequent decision allowed the land to be used without cost. These details raise a question that goes beyond Dhabeji.
When a community has lived on or used an area for generations, what happens to its rights when that land is later designated for a federal purpose? National security is unquestionably a legitimate responsibility of the state. A country cannot ignore its defence requirements. But national security cannot become a principle under which the rights and concerns of ordinary citizens simply disappear from consideration.
The strength of a state is not measured only by its military capacity. It is also measured by how fairly it treats those who have the least power to defend their interests.
52,713 Acres for Corporate Farming
The second major issue concerns the Green Pakistan Initiative. In January 2024, the caretaker Sindh government signed an agreement with Green Corporate Initiative Private Limited, an army backed company, concerning approximately 52,713 acres of land for corporate farming for a period of 20 years. The land was identified across six districts:
- Khairpur: 28,000 acres
- Tharparkar: 10,000 acres
- Dadu: 9,305 acres
- Sujawal: 3,408 acres
- Thatta: 1,000 acres
- Badin: 1,000 acres
The government described the land as barren and maintained that ownership would remain with the Sindh government rather than being permanently transferred. That distinction is important.
The arrangement was not formally presented as a sale of Sindh’s land. Instead, it was presented as a temporary arrangement through which land would be cultivated and developed for a specified period.
The government also pointed to several safeguards. It said that the land would first be surveyed and verified, while villages, grazing areas, graveyards, forests, protected areas, wetlands, roads and other specified categories would be excluded.
The financial structure also appears designed to provide a benefit to the province. According to the agreement, 40 percent of net profit would go to the Sindh government, 20 percent would be allocated to research and development, while the remaining 40 percent would be spent on local infrastructure and related development.
From the government’s perspective, the argument is straightforward. The land remains the property of Sindh. The arrangement is temporary. Land described as barren can potentially be made productive. Agricultural investment can increase productivity. The province can receive revenue and local communities can potentially benefit from development. All of these arguments deserve consideration. But they do not end the debate.
The Real Question: Who Benefits From Sindh’s Land?
A policy can be legally structured and still deserve public scrutiny. That is an important distinction. The question should not be whether corporate farming is inherently good or bad. Nor should the discussion be reduced to an argument between Sindh and the military.
The deeper question is who ultimately benefits when thousands of acres are placed under the control of a large and powerful institution. If the government is making such vast areas available for corporate agriculture, it has a responsibility to demonstrate how ordinary Sindhis will benefit from the arrangement.
This question becomes particularly difficult in a province where thousands of small farmers and landless peasants struggle to secure productive agricultural land.
Why should a large corporate farming project receive access to tens of thousands of acres while a small farmer may spend years trying to obtain enough land to support a family?
That is not necessarily an argument against corporate agriculture. It is an argument for fairness in the distribution of opportunity. A serious government should therefore publish, district by district, the exact boundaries and maps of every parcel involved. It should disclose the ownership status of the land, identify nearby villages and communities, provide evidence that the land is genuinely unused or barren, explain the project’s water requirements and identify the source of that water.
It should also disclose expected employment opportunities for local residents, expected government revenue, environmental assessments, the complete terms of the agreement and the mechanism through which citizens can challenge decisions or lodge complaints. Without such information, citizens are effectively being asked to trust the government rather than verify its claims. That is not how public confidence is built.
The Water Question Cannot Be Ignored
Land and water are inseparable. It is easy to look at thousands of acres on a map and describe them as barren. It is much harder to ask what would be required to make those acres productive.
The government stated that companies involved in corporate farming would have to arrange water through alternative sources rather than simply depending upon existing irrigation channels. That is an important safeguard.
But Sindh is a lower riparian province, and water has always been one of the most sensitive economic and political questions in the province. Any large expansion of agricultural activity therefore raises an obvious question. Where will the water come from? And if water becomes scarce, who will bear the consequences?
The debate in the National Assembly over the Green Pakistan Initiative also reflected concerns about water availability and the possible impact of large scale agricultural projects on provincial interests. This is why the word “barren” cannot be treated as the end of the argument.
A piece of land may be agriculturally unproductive because it lacks sufficient water, infrastructure or investment. Turning such land into productive farmland may be beneficial. But if doing so requires substantial quantities of water, the source of that water and its potential impact on existing farmers and communities must be publicly established. Development should not solve one problem by quietly creating another.
The Constitutional Question
The Constitution provides an important starting point for understanding the issue. Article 172 establishes principles concerning ownerless property located within a province, while Article 173 deals with the authority of the federal and provincial governments concerning property and provides that the transfer of land by either government is regulated by law. This is why the debate should not simply be framed as “Army versus Sindh.” That framing may generate political emotion, but it does not necessarily help us understand the legal question. The more useful questions are these:
Who legally owns the particular piece of land? Under what law is it being used, leased or transferred? What authority has made the decision? What rights do existing occupants, villages and communities possess? And what legal remedies are available to them?
These questions matter because the Dhabeji dispute and the corporate farming arrangement are not identical situations. They involve different legal, administrative and historical circumstances. A serious discussion must therefore resist the temptation to place every land dispute into the same political category.
A Troubling Pattern of Concentration
There is, however, another reason why citizens have legitimate grounds for concern. In January 2025, the Sindh government postponed consideration of another proposal involving 14,008 acres in Umerkot for corporate farming by Green Corporate Initiative. Local public representatives and stakeholders were reportedly to be consulted regarding the availability of the land.
The Karachi Bar Association described the proposed arrangement as a “dangerous precedent” and argued that state land should primarily benefit local communities. Whether one agrees completely with that position or not, the fact that such objections have emerged is important. It suggests that the controversy is not limited to one agreement or one district. The larger issue is the principle governing access to state land in Sindh. Who gets access? On what terms? For how long? Under whose supervision? And most importantly, who receives the long term benefit?
These are questions that deserve answers beyond political statements and official assurances.
So, Is It Fair?
There is no intellectually honest way to argue that every acre allocated for defence purposes or agricultural investment is automatically illegal or illegitimate. Defence requirements are real. Agricultural modernization is real. Private and corporate investment can potentially improve productivity, create employment and generate revenue. But fairness requires more than a government saying that an arrangement is lawful. Lawfulness is the minimum standard. Fairness demands more.
It demands transparency, consultation, protection of existing rights, environmental safeguards, water security and measurable benefits for the communities living in the province where the land is located. Imagine the situation from the perspective of an ordinary farmer.
He may be told that land is unavailable because it belongs to the state. Then he sees thousands of acres being placed under the control of a powerful institution or corporate entity. Naturally, he will ask a simple question. If the land belongs to the state, why is it unavailable to me but available to someone else? That question deserves a serious answer.
Similarly, if a village has existed for generations, its people should not become invisible simply because they lack modern title documents or formal paperwork.
A state must recognize that possession, settlement, livelihood and historical use can have social realities that are not always captured neatly in official records.
At the same time, if land is genuinely barren and unused, the first question should not automatically be, “Which powerful investor should receive it?” The first question should be:
“How can this land generate the greatest long term benefit for the people of Sindh?” That is the question around which a mature land policy should be built.
What Should Happen?
A fair policy should begin with five basic principles.
First, complete transparency. Every major agreement involving state land should be publicly available. Citizens should be able to see the maps, duration, financial terms, conditions and beneficiaries without having to depend on leaks or newspaper reports.
Second, independent verification. Claims that land is barren, unused or free from existing rights should be independently verified. Such claims should not depend solely on administrative reports prepared by the same system responsible for implementing the policy.
Third, protection of local communities. Villages, ancestral settlements, grazing rights and legitimate possessory claims should be properly documented and protected. Development should not turn long established communities into obstacles standing in the way of a project.
Fourth, protection of water. No agricultural project should be permitted to undermine the water availability of existing farmers or communities. The source, quantity and environmental consequences of water used by large scale agricultural projects should be publicly disclosed.
Fifth, meaningful local benefit. Employment, infrastructure, education, healthcare and agricultural opportunities should reach the communities living around the project. Development should be visible in the lives of ordinary people, not merely in government announcements and official statistics.
Conclusion
Sindh does not oppose development simply because it is development. Sindh needs investment. It needs modern agriculture, better irrigation systems, technology, employment and opportunities for its young population. The province cannot afford to reject every form of investment or modernization.
But development cannot mean that decisions concerning thousands of acres are made without giving the people most affected by those decisions a meaningful voice.
The 50,600 acre Dhabeji dispute and the 52,713 acre corporate farming arrangement are different cases. Yet both raise a broader question about land governance in Sindh. Who controls the land? Under what legal authority? For whose benefit? And who gets to decide?
These questions should not be treated as attacks on development or national institutions. They are questions that any responsible government should be willing to answer. The strongest position is therefore not to oppose every defence requirement or every agricultural investment. It is to demand something more fundamental.
Sindh’s land must be administered transparently, lawfully and responsibly, with proper protection for existing communities and with a clear emphasis on the long term interests of the people of Sindh. Because land is not simply measured in acres. For the people who live on it, land carries memory, livelihood, history and hope.
And when decisions are made about that land, the people whose lives are tied to it deserve more than an assurance that everything is being done in their interest. They deserve the right to see it, question it and, where necessary, challenge it. That is not anti development. That is accountability.