Lessons from South Korea

 The Ebola outbreak in DRC is not getting the required traction from the world despite being categorized as the fastest growing infection so far recorded by the World Health Organization (WHO). Before diving deep into the threats posed by this disease, it is imperative to provide the readers with an overview of this viral infection. An Overview of Ebola Outbreak The Bundibugyo virus, one of the Orthoebolavirus species is responsible for causing severe Ebola disease known as Bundibugyo virus disease (BVD). It is a zoonotic disease, with fruit bats suspected to be the natural reservoir.  With the close contact of a human to the blood or secretions of infected wildlife (including bats or non-human primates), the human gets the infection. Consequently, the infection spreads from one human to other through direct contact with the blood, bodily secretions, and organs of the infected ones. The viral infection can also spread through close contact with the surfaces and materials contaminated with the bodily secretions of the infected individuals. Very similar to the Corona virus, the spread of this infection is particularly high in health-care settings having inadequate sterilization measures in place. Moreover, a direct contact with the infected deceased individuals during their burial can contribute to its spread as well. Incubation period and Clinical symptoms The incubation period for BVD ranges from 2 to 21 days, and infected individuals are not infectious until symptom onset. Fever, fatigue, muscle pain, headache, and sore throat may represent as the early symptoms of this disease. But the non-specific nature of these symptoms often makes the diagnosis difficult resulting in delayed detection. Without early detection, the symptoms of this disease aggravate leading to gastrointestinal symptoms and organ dysfunction. In some cases, haemorrhagic manifestations may also occur in the infected individuals. Diagnosis and Treatment In the absence of confirmatory tests such as Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR) or antigen- or antibody-based assays in the laboratory, it becomes a challenge for the health care professionals to differentiate BVD from other endemic febrile illnesses such as malaria. Outbreak control depends on early detection, isolation and care, contact tracing, safe burials and strong community engagement. Since there are no approved vaccines or specific treatments available for BVD, the current mortality rate of 44% to 46% for this disease poses a great threat to the affected communities. Current situation of Ebola outbreak Ebola, which spreads through contact with bodily fluids and causes a hemorrhagic fever, has killed more than 15,000 people in Africa over the past 50 years. As per the reports of international media outlets, the Ebola outbreak in DR Congo has spread to sixth province as death toll passes 2,100 with 4665 confirmed Ebola cases. The World Health Organization has already warned about its pace- the Ebola epidemic, already the deadliest in the country’s history, is spreading faster than any previous Ebola outbreak. Until now, five Congolese provinces had recorded cases: Ituri, which borders Uganda and South Sudan, North Kivu and South Kivu, Haut-Uélé and Tshopo. The risk of cross-border spread of this infection primarily to Uganda and South Sudan is very high. To make things worse, the response to contain this virus in the DRC is hampered by stretched health services, insufficient clean water and safe toilets. Some of the provinces where Ebola is present are densely populated and have only a weak government presence and largely lacking health infrastructure. North Kivu and South Kivu are also split by the front lines between the Congolese army and the anti-government armed group M23, backed by Rwanda, which has seized vast swathes of territory. This makes the conflict-ridden territory extremely prone to viral spread. Should we be worried? According to WHO official statement, the organization hopes to reverse the spread of this deadly virus in DRC within a span of three months with proper medical intervention. However, the pace with which it is spreading within DRC and bordering areas, it is quintessential to take some preventive measures. Since the globalization of the world was primarily responsible for Covid-19 pandemic, it is essential to have preparedness in advance. The healthcare authorities should establish proper communication channel with their counterparts in DRC to have real time data in hand. Similarly, a stock of screening kits should be maintained in the repository. In our airports and seaports, no preventive measures are in place for the screening of any such disease. To put things into perspective, our agencies working in the airports handle body search of persons and their belongings with no protective gears. They do not even wear any mask while dealing with international flights. Most of the time, those passengers who present with clinical symptoms of disease like coughing, flu or fever tend to wear no mask. This puts the fellow passengers and the airport authorities at risk of many diseases. Therefore, the government should take proper measures in this regard. The seaport and airport personnel should be trained to wear masks and protective gear while handling the flights coming from DRC directly or indirectly. Proper screening booths should be installed having health care professionals equipped with medical kits and personal protective gear. There should be proper sanitization within the airports and seaports vicinities. All these measures will put us in a better position to prevent many contagious diseases beforehand. Prevention should be the top most priority of our health care system only then we can envisage a healthy future. In the end, let us hope the viral infection in DRC subsides before getting out of control.

By Malik Khuda Bakhsh Awan, retired Inspector General of Punjab Police and former IG of Azad Jammu & Kashmir & Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, water and energy expert who has served in KPK and AJK, We write this not as critics sitting comfortably at a distance, but as two servants of this soil who have spent our working lives in the very regions now aflame with unrest — one of us measuring the water and energy that could have irrigated peace in KPK and AJK, the other commanding police lines in Punjab and standing watch over the mountains of Azad Kashmir. What we have seen convinces us of one thing above all: the fire in Balochistan, AJK and the erstwhile KPK is serious, but it is not yet beyond our control. It can still be reversed — if the Government of Pakistan acts with the courage to match the sacrifice already being offered on our behalf. Before we offer a single suggestion, we must first bow our heads. Every day, a young Jawan somewhere in Balochistan or the tribal belt tightens his boots before dawn, not knowing if he will return. Every week, a Frontier Corps patrol walks into an ambush it did not seek, and an FC officer’s name is added to a list none of us wants to grow longer. Every month, policemen in Quetta, Muzaffarabad and Peshawar guard checkposts that other citizens simply drive past without a thought. From the newest recruit to the most senior general, our security forces have offered blood, limb and years away from their families to hold this country together. Their courage is not in question. Their commitment is not in doubt. What we owe them now is not more praise — it is a strategy worthy of their sacrifice. That is the entire purpose of this letter. We do not want the martyrdom of our Army, Police and FC personnel to be spent on a war that could have been shortened, or avoided, by decisions made in Islamabad rather than only on the battlefield. History offers us hard evidence that this is possible, even in conflicts far older and far bloodier than ours. Lessons the world has already paid for, so we don’t have to. Colombia fought a Marxist insurgency for fifty years, financed by drugs and kidnapping — arguably a longer and more entrenched war than anything Pakistan faces today. Peace came in 2016 not because the state finally won every battle, but because it paired security operations with land redistribution for poor farmers and a transitional justice system that let fighters confess their crimes in exchange for reduced sentences, rebuilding public trust along the way. In Northern Ireland, three decades of sectarian killing between republicans and unionists ended largely because international partners poured investment into the poorest, most neglected border towns — the very places where despair had made paramilitary recruitment easy — while a new power-sharing government guaranteed both communities an equal, transparent voice. Sierra Leone’s civil war was fuelled by “blood diamonds.” It was tamed not merely by defeating the rebels but by legalising and regulating small-scale mining so that ordinary mining communities, not warlords, earned the benefit, backed by an internationally certified transparent supply chain and a strengthened anti-corruption commission. And in our own neighbourhood, the Philippines faced a decades-long Muslim separatist insurgency in Mindanao. It was calmed considerably by granting the Bangsamoro region genuine fiscal autonomy — its own revenue powers and a guaranteed development grant — replacing a corrupt, clan-captured funding system with one that visibly reached ordinary people. The pattern across every one of these conflicts, each objectively worse than what we face today, is the same. Peace did not arrive purely from military victory. It arrived when governments paired continued security pressure with transparent governance and genuine economic opportunity, so that the incentive to pick up a gun simply fell away. Our humble suggestions to the Government- First, unemployment among our youth is, in our respectful assessment, the single biggest driver of unrest in Balochistan, AJK and the tribal districts. A young man with a trade, a wage and a future does not need the BLA or the TTP to promise him meaning; he already has it. We therefore urge the government to treat job creation in these regions not as a welfare afterthought but as a core national-security investment, on par with any military allocation. Second, we ask for financial transparency in how resources from these very regions — gas, minerals, hydropower, forests — are spent. When local people can see, in plain terms, where the revenue from their own land goes, resentment gives way to ownership. Third, we ask for genuine, verifiable inclusion — local land and mining rights regularised in favour of communities rather than absentee interests, block grants that reach tehsil and union council level without being intercepted along the way, and reconstruction that is co-designed with elders and local government rather than imposed from a distant secretariat. Fourth, we ask for a dignified, well-resourced path for demobilisation and reintegration wherever it is possible — vocational training, stipends and honest employment for those willing to lay down arms, so that today’s militant does not become tomorrow’s freelance criminal. Fifth, and we say this with the greatest respect, every federal minister must spend a minimum of fifteen days, physically present, in Balochistan, AJK and KPK each year — not for a photo opportunity at a heavily guarded circuit house, but sitting with local elders, visiting FC and police posts, and looking our Jawans in the eye. A soldier who sees his federal government only through television screens begins to wonder if Islamabad remembers he exists. When a minister walks the same ground our forces are dying to defend, it tells every Jawan, every FC sepoy, every constable that his sacrifice is seen, valued and shared by those who lead him. This single change of habit would do more for morale on the front line than any speech delivered

The signing of the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement by Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye on August 7 has opened a new and potentially consequential chapter in the security architecture of Asia and the Gulf. The agreement states that an armed attack against any one of the three countries will be regarded as an attack against all three, while envisaging deeper military coordination, joint exercises, intelligence cooperation and collaboration in areas including drones, electronic warfare, artificial intelligence and defence production. Türkiye has also indicated that the framework could eventually be expanded to other countries. What makes the development particularly significant is not simply the agreement itself, but the reaction from Washington. President Donald Trump has welcomed the pact as a “big, bold, important first step” towards regional countries being able to defend themselves more meaningfully. His words raise a larger strategic question, is the United States beginning to transfer a greater share of the burden of confronting Iran to regional powers, particularly the Gulf and Asian countries? Or making this region as its main combatant force against Iran? And what are the possible next steps? The answer is more complicated than a simple American withdrawal. Washington is unlikely to abandon the Middle East, its military assets, intelligence networks, diplomatic influence or relationships with Gulf states. What appears to be changing is the distribution of responsibility. The Trump administration’s broader philosophy of burden-sharing suggests that countries possessing substantial financial, military and strategic resources should assume greater responsibility for their own security rather than expecting Washington to carry the entire cost. In that sense, America may not be handing over the war against Iran, but it may be regionalising the consequences of that war. The distinction is crucial. A regionalised conflict can become much more dangerous because the number of actors involved increases. At the same time, regional ownership of security could eventually create a framework in which regional states themselves negotiate a new balance rather than remaining permanently dependent on an external power. The Pakistan-Saudi relationship provides the foundation for this transformation. The two countries signed their Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement in September 2025, committing themselves to collective security. The new Mecca agreement effectively brings Türkiye into a much broader strategic framework. Each country brings a different strategic asset. Saudi Arabia possesses enormous financial resources, energy influence and geographical importance. Türkiye brings one of the region’s most capable conventional militaries, a rapidly developing indigenous defence industry, drone technology and NATO experience. Pakistan brings a large and experienced military establishment and, uniquely among Muslim-majority states, a nuclear deterrent. The combination therefore has significance beyond its three signatories. It links the Gulf, South Asia and the eastern Mediterranean in a single security conversation. For Saudi Arabia, the agreement represents strategic insurance. Riyadh has increasingly understood that sophisticated American weapons alone cannot eliminate vulnerabilities created by missiles, drones, cyberwarfare and attacks on energy infrastructure. Diversifying its security relationships allows Saudi Arabia to maintain its partnership with Washington while simultaneously developing alternative sources of military capability. For Türkiye, the pact fits into Ankara’s long-standing ambition to exercise greater strategic autonomy. Türkiye remains a NATO member, but it has increasingly demonstrated that it does not want its foreign policy to be dictated by any single great power. A defence relationship stretching from Türkiye through Saudi Arabia to Pakistan expands Ankara’s influence across two strategically vital regions. For Pakistan, however, the equation is much more delicate. Pakistan has the opportunity to emerge as an important security bridge between South Asia and the Gulf, but it also has a geographical reality that cannot be ignored, it shares a border with Iran. Islamabad cannot afford to treat Tehran simply as an enemy without exposing itself to enormous security, economic and diplomatic risks. Pakistan therefore faces the most difficult balancing act of the three. Its relationship with Saudi Arabia is strategically important. Its relationship with Türkiye is deepening. Its partnership with China remains fundamental. Its relationship with the United States is economically and strategically significant. Yet Iran is its immediate western neighbour, with which it shares a long border and important diplomatic and economic interests. This makes Pakistan potentially more valuable as a mediator than as a frontline combatant. If Islamabad can defend Saudi Arabia while simultaneously maintaining communication with Tehran, it could acquire an extraordinary diplomatic role. Pakistan could become one of the few countries capable of speaking to the Gulf, Iran, Türkiye, China and Washington at the same time. That possibility is already visible in Pakistan’s efforts to maintain diplomatic engagement with Iran while navigating its defence commitments to Saudi Arabia. The Iranian response will be critical. Although the three countries have described the agreement as defensive rather than an alliance directed against a particular state, Tehran will inevitably examine its military implications. A coordinated Saudi-Turkish-Pakistani security structure potentially means improved intelligence, air defence, military exercises, drone capabilities and defence-industrial cooperation around Iran’s strategic neighbourhood. But this could produce two very different outcomes. The first is escalation. Iran could interpret the emerging architecture as an attempt to encircle it and respond by strengthening its missile forces, regional partnerships and asymmetric capabilities. The Gulf could then become increasingly militarised, with every defensive measure interpreted by the other side as preparation for aggression. The second possibility is deterrence leading eventually to diplomacy. If Iran concludes that it cannot achieve regional dominance through military pressure, while Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states conclude that permanent dependence on American protection is neither sufficient nor sustainable, both sides may eventually have an incentive to negotiate a regional security arrangement. That would be the more constructive outcome. The danger, however, is that the emerging alliance could be interpreted through a sectarian lens. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan are all Sunni-majority states, while Iran is the region’s principal Shia power. If the new security architecture becomes identified as a Sunni military bloc confronting Shia Iran, it could revive precisely the sectarian competition that has destabilised the Middle East for decades. Pakistan should be particularly careful

Every political leader is eventually defined not by promises but by performance under pressure. Pakistan has faced repeated political, economic and administrative challenges over the decades, and each crisis has demanded leadership with experience, patience and the ability to find solutions. In my view, Prime Minister Muhammad Shehbaz Sharif has established himself as a leader who understands governance, negotiation and crisis management. His journey from grassroots politics to becoming Chief Minister of Punjab and later Prime Minister of Pakistan has given him decades of experience in dealing with the practical realities of administration and public service. His reputation as a hands-on administrator comes from his approach to governance. During his tenure as Chief Minister of Punjab, he focused on reforms in education, healthcare, infrastructure and public service delivery. His fast-paced working style earned him the title “Shehbaz Speed”, reflecting his emphasis on implementation and results. I first met Shehbaz Sharif in 2005 at his flat in Avenfield House, London. Over the past twenty-one years, I have had the opportunity to observe his political journey closely. While journalism requires independence and critical analysis, personal observation also provides a unique perspective. Throughout this period, his commitment to Pakistan and his passion for public service have remained evident. During his years as Chief Minister of Punjab, I witnessed his determination to create opportunities for young Pakistanis, particularly through education reforms. Initiatives such as the Punjab Education Endowment Fund, Danish Schools, merit-based scholarships, laptop schemes for students and stipends for high achievers aimed to expand access to quality education. The policy of sending high-performing students abroad, including to the United Kingdom and other European countries, was designed to broaden their vision and expose them to international standards. These initiatives reflected a belief that education is the foundation for long-term national development. His reforms in healthcare and infrastructure also became a significant part of his governance record. Supporters believe that his focus on improving public services in Punjab provided a model of administrative delivery that he later brought to the national level. As Prime Minister, Shehbaz Sharif has faced one of the most challenging periods in Pakistan’s recent history. His supporters credit his government with helping stabilise the economy, restoring international engagement and steering Pakistan away from the risk of a deeper financial crisis. Although major economic challenges remain, they argue that difficult decisions have helped create a more stable foundation. One of the notable features of the current political landscape has been cooperation between state institutions. Supporters view the working relationship between Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir as an example of institutional coordination aimed at achieving national stability and economic progress. Pakistan has also sought a more active role on the international stage. Supporters point to its diplomatic engagement, including efforts to promote dialogue during periods of international tension, as evidence that Pakistan continues to play an important role in regional and global affairs. In my view, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has repeatedly demonstrated the ability to steer Pakistan through difficult circumstances. Based on my observations over more than two decades, I believe he has faced major challenges before and has the experience and determination to overcome them again. His strength lies in his understanding of governance, his ability to negotiate with different stakeholders and his focus on delivery. Whether dealing with political partners, institutions or international partners, his supporters believe his experience gives him an advantage in managing complex situations. However, Pakistan’s journey towards prosperity requires continued reforms. Economic pressures, inflation, unemployment and governance challenges remain serious concerns. The next phase must focus on ensuring that national progress translates into improvements in the daily lives of ordinary citizens. In my opinion, Pakistan also needs stronger administrative decentralisation. Whether through new provinces or more empowered administrative units, decision-making should be brought closer to the people. More effective local governance can improve accountability, strengthen public services and accelerate development across the country. Pakistan now needs consistency, stability and a collective commitment from all stakeholders. Political differences are part of democracy, but national progress requires institutions to work together and focus on the common goal of prosperity. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has built his political career around crisis management and public administration. His greatest challenge now is to convert stability into sustainable growth and lasting development. History will ultimately judge every leader by the impact they leave behind. For Shehbaz Sharif, the opportunity remains to transform difficult times into a period of economic recovery, institutional strength and a stronger Pakistan for future generations.

Every August, right on schedule, my phone starts buzzing. Friends send me lists. WhatsApp group start heated debates. Neighbours stop me at the corner shop. Someone always has an opinion about who made it onto Pakistan’s civil awards list this year, and someone always has an even louder opinion about who got left off. I have seen this happen so many times now that I could almost set my watch by it. The list comes out, the arguments start, and by the time the dust settles, nobody remembers what the fuss was even about. The award list carries the names which we like the most, and unfortunately, it carries those names, which do not like. I want to tell you something I have come to believe after watching this cycle play out year after year. This debate we keep having, about who deserved a medal and who did not, is about as useful as arguing over which cloud looks more like a rabbit. It never ends, and it never really goes anywhere either. People pick their favourites, defend them like family, and forget the whole point of what an award is supposed to mean in the first place. Here is the real point, plain and simple. An award is not a popularity contest. It is not a reward for showing up. It is meant for something extraordinary. Something exceptional. A person who did work so far above the ordinary that the state felt it had to stand up and say thank you in front of everybody. Now here is where the story gets interesting, and honestly, a little strange. An economist named Zehra Farooq sat down and did something most of us never bother to do. She pulled together every single civil award given out over nine years, all 2,209 of them, and looked at the pattern. What she found should stop us all in our tracks. Back in 2018, only 73 people received awards. By 2026, that number had climbed to 372. That is five times as many people being called extraordinary in less than a decade. Think about what that actually means. If we are handing out that many more awards for exceptional service, it should follow that we have more and more exceptional people walking among us. Teachers going beyond the call. Officers solving problems nobody else could touch. Scientists, engineers, public servants, all rising to meet the moment. That is what a growing list of honourees is supposed to tell us. But here is the part that keeps me up at night. If we truly have this many extraordinary minds working for the good of the country, why does the country not feel more extraordinary? Why do our institutions still creak and groan the way they always have? Why does public service still feel, for so many ordinary citizens, like an uphill climb rather than a smooth road paved by all this supposed excellence? Something does not add up. Either the definition of extraordinary has quietly loosened over the years, or the excellence being honoured is not translating into the everyday experience of the people it is meant to serve. Farooq’s numbers also show something else worth sitting with. Women still make up only around ten to sixteen percent of recipients, a share that has barely moved in nine years, and their share shrinks even further at the highest levels of honour. So the next time the list comes out and the arguments start flying, I hope we can steer the conversation somewhere more useful. Instead of fighting over names, let us ask why the growth in awards has not translated into a more exemplary, more ideal society. That is the debate worth having. That is the one that might actually change something.

The preceding part of this series examined a question ordinarily left outside discussions on riba: who should create money? It argued that commercial-bank money creation is not, by itself, riba, but that the power to create purchasing power through credit is a matter of public importance requiring transparency, restraint and accountability. One possible reform is to separate transaction money, fully backed by sovereign money, from funds deliberately committed for investment. That proposition leads to an even more fundamental question. What exactly is a bank deposit? The answer appears obvious only because modern banking has merged several economically different relationships into the same institution. A person places salary in a current account because it must be available tomorrow morning. Another person places accumulated savings with a bank hoping to earn a return over five years. A business maintains money for payroll and suppliers. An investor deliberately commits capital to a project knowing that commercial gain is accompanied by the possibility of loss. Calling all these balances “deposits” conceals distinctions that become crucial in a financial order seeking to eliminate riba. There is a basic difference between money and investment. Money held for payment performs the functions of medium of exchange and store of nominal value. Its owner expects Rs.100 deposited today to remain Rs.100 tomorrow and to be transferable on demand. Investment capital performs another function. It is consciously placed in productive activity in expectation of gain and consequently bears the possibility of commercial loss. One cannot logically demand both absolute safety and entrepreneurial return from the same contractual relationship unless somebody else is made to carry the risk. Islamic jurisprudence recognised these distinctions long before modern banking. Funds entrusted purely for safekeeping can constitute amanah. A trustee does not own them and is not ordinarily liable for loss occurring without negligence or misconduct. Where fungible money is transferred to another person with authority to use it and an obligation to return its equivalent, the relationship acquires the character of qard, or loan. State Bank of Pakistan’s own glossary reflects precisely this reasoning. It describes an amanah as property held in trust and states that current accounts may initially be regarded as trust deposits. Once a bank obtains authority to use current-account funds in its business, however, the relationship becomes a loan because the bank must repay the full amount. This point deserves much greater attention. If a bank accepts Rs.100,000 from a customer, is free to use that money for its own financing operations and remains legally bound to repay Rs.100,000 whenever demanded, the customer is not bearing an investment risk. Whatever terminology appears on the account-opening form, economically the bank has received financing from the customer. No difficulty necessarily arises if the customer receives nothing beyond repayment of the amount advanced. The difficulty arises when banking system treats this repayable-at-par money simultaneously as the raw material from which additional financing and monetary claims can be generated. Part II suggested one possible solution: transaction accounts should be treated entirely differently. A current account used for wages, household expenditure, business payments and ordinary transfers should represent protected transaction money. If such balances are fully backed by sovereign money or central-bank reserves, they need not be exposed to the bank’s commercial financing decisions. The account holder would possess money, not an investment claim upon the success of a bank. The bank would provide custody, payments, transfers, cards, digital access and settlement services. It could legitimately charge transparent fees for those services. What it would not receive is free investment capital merely because citizens require access to a payment system. The consequences are significant. Fully backed transaction accounts would remain available on demand and at par. They would not earn an investment return because their owners have assumed no investment risk. Nor would their repayment depend upon the quality of the bank’s commercial portfolio. This is not merely a theological distinction. Modern central banking itself recognises the peculiar character of bank deposits. The Bank of England recently described commercial-bank deposits as liabilities used as money, expected to be redeemable at par on demand and relied upon as a safe store of value. It contrasted them with investment products whose values fluctuate and whose losses are borne by investors. A riba-free financial system should take that distinction seriously. The second category would consist of genuine investment accounts. Here the relationship is entirely different. A customer does not merely park money awaiting payment instructions. He consciously makes capital available for investment and accepts that lawful profit cannot be separated completely from commercial risk. Mudarabah provides one classical framework. One party supplies capital and the other enterprise and expertise. Profit is divided according to an agreed ratio; financial loss, in the absence of negligence or breach by the manager, falls upon the provider of capital. SBP itself explains Islamic investment deposits on this basis: the depositor acts as rabb-ul-maal and the bank as mudarib. Restricted mudarabah allows the investor to specify where the funds may be deployed; unrestricted mudarabah gives the bank wider investment authority. The principle is straightforward. If the depositor wants profit because capital is being employed commercially, the depositor must understand what capital is doing and what risk attaches to it. This is where present banking practice requires closer examination. Islamic banks commonly pool deposits, calculate weighted-average yields and distribute profits under elaborate regulatory rules. SBP presently prescribes profit-distribution arrangements for savings depositors, including minimum distribution requirements linked to the weighted-average gross yield of the institution. It also permits additional hiba in specified circumstances. These measures protect customers against inequitable allocation of profits by banks. Their consumer-protection purpose is understandable. At the same time, an increasingly managed and smoothed return can create in the depositor’s mind an expectation remarkably similar to a conventional savings rate. The crucial question is not whether the return happens to fluctuate by a few basis points. It is whether the depositor actually bears the economic character of an investor. An investment account should identify the pool in