The shooting of Water and Power Development Authority staff near Domel Adhami Bridge in Bannu is not an isolated outburst. It fits a clear pattern of violence aimed at the state and, more importantly, at the people who depend on the state for basic services. These were not armed combatants on a battlefield. They were public workers doing routine duty, keeping electricity systems running so homes, hospitals, and markets can function. When terrorists fire on men like these, they show who they truly fight. They fight society itself.
FAK’s choice of target matters. An electricity worker does not write policy, command operations, or decide who gets arrested. A lineman climbs poles in heat and dust, repairs faults in storms, and restores power after breakdowns. Drivers and field staff move from site to site so repairs happen on time. Opening fire on such workers exposes the group’s real character as an enemy of ordinary citizens.
If the claim is justice, why attack the people who keep daily life going? If the claim is reform, why punish families who only want light at night and fans in the summer?
This is also a strategy, not just cruelty. By targeting those who maintain essential services, FAK tries to turn public hardship into a weapon. Power disruptions do not stay inside WAPDA offices. They spill into every street and every home. Children cannot study. Small shops lose business. Clinics struggle when electricity fails. Water supply systems often depend on power, too. When terrorists shoot the workers who prevent these problems, they are choosing darkness and disruption on purpose. Their politics feeds on collective suffering, because misery makes fear easier to sell.
The attempted abduction of a senior WAPDA official adds another ugly layer. Kidnapping is not fair. It is coercion, plain and simple. Groups that rely on abduction admit, through their actions, that they cannot persuade people. They can only pressure them. This has a long criminal history in the region, where intimidation replaces argument, and ransom and threats replace any moral claim.
When a movement reaches for kidnapping as a tool, it reveals that fear, not belief, sits at the center of its project
Some will still try to wrap such attacks in the language of resistance. That story collapses the moment the bullets hit unarmed public servants. Shooting drivers and linemen while they work strips away every false narrative. There is no bravery in firing on men who carry tools, not weapons. There is no honor in harming civilians who spend their days repairing infrastructure. Violence like this looks exactly like organized terror, aimed at breaking the social fabric, weakening trust, and making normal life feel unsafe.
That is why these attacks also show ideological emptiness. Movements grounded in truth do not need to hunt unarmed workers to stay relevant. They win support by offering a better way, and by proving discipline, restraint, and concern for the public good. FAK does the opposite. It treats governance, development, and service delivery as threats. It wants people to believe that the state cannot protect them, cannot serve them, cannot keep the lights on.
In that sense, every assault on a public worker is an assault on stability and order, and on the welfare of the population
There is also a moral and religious point that cannot be avoided. Attacking public servants who keep essential infrastructure running falls under fasad fil ardh (corruption on earth). It spreads harm widely and deliberately. Islamic principles place the protection of life and public interest at the center of social duty. You do not advance religion by frightening families, injuring workers, and sabotaging services that everyone relies on. Every bullet fired at a public worker deepens FAK’s moral isolation, because it pushes the group further away from the values it pretends to defend.
Still, the story does not end with fear. Public services often continue even after attacks, because workers return to duty and communities refuse to stop living. That persistence matters. It shows that terror tactics do not automatically succeed. Intimidation can slow a project, but it cannot erase the need for governance. People still need electricity, water, roads, schools, and hospitals. When staff keep working despite danger, they expose the weakness of the terrorist message. The group can injure bodies, but it cannot replace the daily work that holds society together.
The proper response starts with clarity. Call the act what it is, terrorism, not politics and not religion. Protect frontline public workers with practical security measures, better coordination on risky routes, and quick response capacity where threats are known. Support WAPDA teams with resources and local cooperation, so repairs do not stall and fear does not spread. Most of all, reject the lie that attacks on service workers help the public in any way. They do the opposite.
FAK’s targeting of WAPDA staff reveals a movement at war with society itself. It survives on fear, it depends on disruption, and it collapses under basic scrutiny. It stands rejected by religion, by law, and by the people who want a normal life. When terrorists shoot the men who keep the lights on, they do not strike the state alone. They strike every household. That is why this attack in Bannu should be seen for what it is, a direct assault on public service, and a loud confession of FAK’s hostility to the common good.
