There has been a lot of excitement on the passage of the Mines and Minerals Act 2025. It is considered a game changer in the capital that would bring much-needed investments, would release the mineral treasures of Pakistan and would liberate the economy from the control of international lenders. But even in the province of Balochistan, whose land contains the deposits of these minerals, the law has generated heat, suspicion and even resistance, so it is easily understandable why.
Balochistan has never been both on the spot and on the surface of the earth. Natural gas discoveries in the early 1950s seemed to have promised the province a paradise of prosperity. Rather, the gas was used to light homes and factories hundreds of miles away, while gas-producing districts still cooked with firewood. Today, decades later, with large-scale copper, gold and coal mining projects, nothing has changed: the resources are extracted, the revenues disappear into the treasury, and the local community is stuck in unemployment and poverty. In such a background, it is no surprise that the new law has not been perceived as an opportunity; rather it is seen as an extension of the same exploitation regime.
The state markets the Act as an ambitious change in its text. There is talk about regulation, investment and modernisation. At the same time, officials cite investor conferences, memoranda of understanding and foreign delegations as indicators of improvement. What counts, however, is the test of what is good on paper or good in international forums. A miner in Mach can now ask whether his wages are enough to raise a family, a graduate in Quetta can now inquire whether he or she can find employment in the sector, and whether the proceeds of copper or a gold mine are used to create hospitals, schools and roads in the district where it is mined. On such criteria, the Act offers little assurance.
One of the most acute concerns is constitutional. The 18th Amendment was meant to empower federalism because it enabled provinces to regulate their own natural resources. That principle was intended to respond to a long record of centralised expropriation. By opening the door for the federal government to intervene in decisions on mining and investment, the new legislation jeopardises provincial powers. In a province where distrust of the centre is endemic, such a move is no minor technicality; it is an attack on the concept of autonomy. The fight against the law can be waged in courtrooms, but the political harm has already been inflicted in terms of perception.
The problem is not that Balochistan lacks resources, but that its resources have never been utilised for the benefit of its people
Another notable failure is the lack of environmental protection. The ecology of Balochistan is delicate, water sources are limited, and crops are already strained. Coal mining in the past has resulted in scarred landscapes and contaminated groundwater. Projects that involve oceanic mining, such as copper and gold, will bring long-term hazards including toxic waste and depletion of water. However, the law has no practical provisions to safeguard land, air or water, or to ensure that, once projects are over, communities will be rehabilitated. This is not only an environmental concern; it is about survival in a province where livelihoods depend on land and water.
Security is also at stake. Balochistan has been a hotspot for resource projects in the past. Pipelines, mines and foreign workers are perceived as impositions and sources of exploitation, and have been targeted by insurgents and armed groups. The Act threatens genuine progress towards reconciliation because it concentrates control and privileges investor trust over local approval. No investor can expect to work in an environment where local people feel alienated and excluded from development.
The discussion is framed in high rhetoric—national interest, economic recovery, and liberation from international debt. Yet to people on the ground such phrases are empty. They hold the state accountable on the basis of whether their children can find jobs, whether their homes have electricity and whether their land is respected. History has taught them to be sceptical. From the Dera Bugti gas fields to the Saindak copper mines, potential has abounded but has been claimed and forgotten too many times. Rather than departing from this history, the new Act seems to entrench it.
The risk is that the law will further contribute to the sense of alienation already rampant in the province. Balochistan is not simply a storehouse of minerals; it is a land with people whose rights and aspirations cannot be overlooked. So long as they feel excluded from decision-making and deprived of the fruits of their resources, the story of exploitation can only be reinforced. In this context, the Act not only fails to deliver justice; it risks becoming a new source of conflict.
The problem is not that Balochistan lacks resources, but that its resources have never been utilised for the benefit of its people. Any credible law-making process must begin with the principle that the immediate beneficiaries of Balochistan’s resources should be its people. This requires binding revenue-sharing, earmarking of mining profits for local development projects, strict environmental laws, and full transparency in contracts. Without these, talk of prosperity is nothing more than recycled rhetoric.
The Mines and Minerals Act 2025 is thus not just a law. It is a test of Pakistan's federalism, governance, and moral credibility. Will Balochistan finally enjoy equal status in the federation and real ownership of its resources? Or will it be the same colonial logic, where wealth is extracted from the periphery to sustain the centre, leaving resentment and poverty in its wake? The answer will not be found in memoranda signed at conferences, but in whether communities living on Balochistan’s land will ever feel the benefits of the riches beneath it.
If this law does not deliver that, it will not be remembered as a step towards development. It will instead be chronicled as yet another instance of dispossession, another broken promise, and another example that in Pakistan’s political economy, Balochistan’s minerals weigh more than its people.