A New Strategic Divide: The India-Iran Axis Meets …

Development is the process of creating lasting improvements in the lives of people by addressing their genuine social, economic, and public needs and not merely constructing new infrastructure, completing projects, impressive photographs, or utilising the allocated public funds. In a true sense, the real measure of development is whether the real problem has been solved, and whether the interventions have created sustainable public value and an evident change in social or economic conditions of the society. A project should begin with a clearly defined problem and public need. Its vision, goals, activities, and measurable indicators should follow the problem. In professional project management practices, all these elements are recorded in the planning and design phase. In Pakistan, we have mastered the art of reporting these elements without achieving any meaningful results. Imagine a public park surrounded by a steel fence. Children and families using the park are visible from the road. If funds are available and privacy is the genuine concern, the executing agency can add steel sheets, plant trees, or use temporary screens. Each solution is inexpensive and retains the existing structure. However, if the focus is primarily on expenditure, the agency may remove the functioning fence and replace it with a new brick wall. This may have a longer life, but is not necessarily the most economical or appropriate solution. Considering Pakistan’s fragile economic outlook, many major development projects are financed through foreign loans. Such funds are eventually repaid, often with interest. Money spent on an unnecessary intervention is no longer available for genuine public need. This is a recurring weakness in Pakistan, where success is measured by the money spent, not by the effectiveness of the solution. This recalls Peter Drucker’s observation. “There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.” The continued existence of infrastructure built during the Mughal and British periods is in contrast with contemporary projects, which deteriorate within years. This might be a romantic comparison, influenced by the fact that we see only the structures that survived, but durability and long-term public value are not central to our project culture. The same mindset is evident in urban beautification schemes. Imagine a local government installs a 15-foot-high statue. The project is indeed beautiful and will produce attractive photographs for official reports, but if the same statue is mounted on thoughtfully designed columns, the shaded seating can be utilised by daily wage workers who gather at bus stops, on footpaths, and in other public spaces because no designated facility is available. This is not an encroachment issue, but a planning failure. Planners and designers should use one intervention to achieve multiple objectives. Imagine a decades-old roundabout, with a working fountain surrounded by grass. During hot afternoons, labourers and children visit the site to cool themselves in the fountain’s spray. Officials might consider this behaviour undesirable and wish to block access. They can barricade it through small trees or shrubs, but the typical response will be to uproot the entire structure, construct a new fountain, and replace the grass with artificial green carpet. The public behaviour may reflect the unavailability of affordable recreational areas or public bathing facilities. Yet, the official solution destroys a functioning public asset, removes a natural green area, and spends substantial funds without addressing the underlying need. Needs assessment appears in project reports, but they are rarely conducted with sufficient depth. Imagine a posh housing society, where tubewells were eventually replaced by private borewells. Residents have spent a considerable amount to arrange their own water supply. Now, if any government agency has received funds for water distribution, they should spend it in areas where the people are still digging borewells or have no access to clean drinking water. However, again the typical response will be to spend millions in this posh area, where households have already arranged their own water supply. The fall of the water table is the real problem, which in this case will persist after spending millions. Pakistan has an extensive planning structure, which includes the federal and provincial bodies, planning departments in government organizations, consultants, and project management units. In 2025-26 alone, the National Economic Council approved the national development portfolio of 4.224 trillion. Such substantial expenditure should produce visible and lasting improvement in people live. The problem, therefore, is not insufficient funding, but how projects are identified, designed, approved, and evaluated. The same problem is visible in education, health, and administrative projects. Consider a basic health unit or education facility with a leaking roof. The available funds should be directed to fix the roof. However, funds are allocated to boundary wall, new signage, and in some cases, for an entirely new building. Similarly, for decade, government departments are trying to digitise their operations. For a quick solution, these departments procure specialised softwares, which has high licensing costs, and inadequate training mechanisms. After years of implementation, enforcement, and expenditure, the same departments revert to paper files or to a new software. The first step should be, to strengthen the capacity of all relevant staff in problem identification and root cause analysis. Every project initiation document should clearly identify the problem, public need, examine alternatives, and link the proposed intervention to public value. These elements should always be in quantifiable terms. Moreover, the project indicators should measure the extent to which the problem is solved and the post-completion evaluation should validate the visualized public benefits. Institutions move energetically, spend heavily, and report extensively, but bypass the original problem. Pakistan does not simply need more projects; it needs projects to solve problems; it needs interventions that respond to genuine needs, preserve what already works, and provide sustainable public value. The true measure should not be the amount spent but the resolution of the problem. Unless problem-solving becomes central to planning and evaluation, fund utilisation will continue to be mistaken for development and detour away from progress we seek. Writers  Dr. Sikandar Bilal Khattak  Academician with Research Interest in Sustainable Systems Can be

By Mehak Ali Pakistan is a country united by diverse cultures, languages, and provinces. Sindh, Punjab, Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Gilgit-Baltistan, and Azad Jammu and Kashmir together form a nation blessed with breathtaking mountains, mighty rivers, vast deserts, fertile plains, and a strategically significant location. These natural blessings make Pakistan one of the most important countries in South Asia. ‎Yet, despite these advantages, millions of citizens continue to struggle with basic issues. Every day, news headlines report murders, sexual violence, malnutrition, unemployment, floods, illiteracy, inflation, gas shortages, electricity outages, and rising fuel prices. These are not isolated incidents; they are challenges that affect the daily lives of ordinary Pakistanis. ‎Citizens pay taxes with the expectation that the government will provide quality education, healthcare, infrastructure, security, and economic opportunities. When these expectations remain unfulfilled, frustration naturally grows. Good governance is not measured by speeches or publicity but by improvements in the lives of the people. ‎The condition of Sindh, particularly in many rural areas, reflects these concerns. Damaged roads, overflowing garbage, poor sanitation, and inadequate public services make everyday life difficult. Similar concerns are voiced by people in Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and other regions, where many continue to demand better facilities, development, and equal opportunities. ‎Farmers work tirelessly under the scorching sun to feed the nation. Employees spend long hours in offices to support their families. Students invest years in education, yet many remain unemployed even highly qualified graduates and researchers struggle to find suitable jobs. Meanwhile, poverty, heat-related illnesses, and malnutrition continue to claim innocent lives. ‎In a democratic society, peaceful protest is a constitutional right. When citizens raise their voices for justice, development, or equal treatment, they deserve to be heard with dialogue rather than confrontation. The unrest in Azad Jammu and Kashmir reminds us that citizens’ grievances whether related to economic hardships, political representation, or governance must be addressed through dialogue, accountability, and peaceful solutions rather than allowing frustration to turn into violence. Listening to the concerns of the people strengthens democracy and builds trust between the government and its citizens. ‎Despite these challenges, Pakistan remains our home, and we are proud to be Pakistanis. Criticizing shortcomings does not mean we love our country any less. On the contrary, it reflects our hope for a better future. We dream of a Pakistan where every citizen enjoys equal rights, where public resources are used responsibly, where justice prevails, and where no one is left behind because of their province, ethnicity, or economic status. ‎Pakistan has immense potential. What it needs is sincere leadership, transparent governance, and policies that place the welfare of the people above all else. Only then will every citizen be able to say with confidence and pride: Yes, we are Pakistanis, and we are truly united.

Walk into any classroom and everything seems perfectly normal. Students are taking notes, chatting before class, and waiting for the lecture to begin. No one is arguing, no one is fighting, and everything appears calm on the surface. Yet for many students, there is a side of campus life that often goes unnoticed: bullying. For years, bullying has been treated as just a normal part of growing up, and honestly, many people will still argue that it is. Plenty still see it as harmless teasing, or worse, some rite of passage every student is simply expected to survive. The common response is often, “ignore it,” or “everyone deals with it, get over it,” as if that settles the matter. But ask the person actually on the receiving end, and it rarely feels harmless at all. What one student brushes off as a joke can leave another feeling embarrassed, isolated, and like they don’t belong anywhere in that room. The moment passes, but the hurt from it usually doesn’t, it lingers quietly while everyone else has already moved on. A student who gets mocked enough times eventually just stops raising his hand, or talking at all. Someone left out again and again stops trying to be included and stops showing up for activities.  Confidence is often the first thing to suffer, and academic performance also follows, when a student’s energy goes into avoiding attention rather than engaging in the class. By the time anyone notices, the damage is usually already done. Many would agree that this is because it does not appear all at once, it builds gradually and people mistake it for a bad mood, a phase, or anything but what it really is. As a student myself, this isn’t just something I’ve read about, I’ve seen how it feels to watch someone go quiet, to sit in a room that should feel safe and doesn’t. What I believe makes bullying so difficult to address is that it does not always look the way people expect. When people hear the word “bullying,” they often imagine physical confrontations. That’s not always how it turns out, though. In many cases, it is far less obvious and therefore much easier to overlook. It can take the form of repeated jokes at someone’s expense, hurtful nicknames, deliberate exclusion from social groups, or rumours spread behind a person’s back, things many of us have seen or experienced at some point. These behaviours are often considered as “just joking,” so a student ends up laughing along anyway, just to avoid seeming too sensitive, even when the comment is genuinely hurtful.  Emotional bullying is another common form including constant criticism, manipulation, or certain behaviours that slowly damages a person’s confidence and sense of belonging. This is probably the one most of us have gone through at some point in our student life, quietly, without ever really talking about it. And these days, it doesn’t even need a classroom to happen in. Social media, group chats, and anonymous messages have given it a whole new stage, extending its reach far beyond the campus walls. There is also a less-discussed form of bullying that affects some students whose parents work at the same school or college. These students are assumed to receive special treatment regardless of their actual performance. Their achievements may be dismissed as favouritism, and their hard work can be unfairly questioned. I admit it sounds strange, but it is a reality many students live with. While this may not involve insults or physical intimidation, constantly feeling judged for something beyond your control can be frustrating and humiliating. So why does bullying continue? Part of the answer is that mostly people underestimate its impact. A comment that seems minor to one person may stay with someone else for days or weeks. When unkind behaviour is overlooked, it can become normalized. What starts as a joke can slowly turn into a pattern. Worth asking too, is what drives a bully. Often, it is not insecurity but the confidence that comes from believing there will be no consequences. When nobody challenges the actions, it becomes a way of gaining attention, influence, or social status. That does not excuse the harm, but it helps explain why simply telling victims to ignore it doesn’t solve the problem. Now, the good part is that bullying is not inevitable. Small actions can make a meaningful difference. Teachers who recognize warning signs and students who choose to speak up when they witness unfair treatment all help create a better environment. Educational institutions should also make it easier for students to report problems without fear of embarrassment or retaliation. Perhaps most importantly, students themselves have more influence than they realize. A kind word, an invitation to join a group, or simply refusing to laugh at someone can change the atmosphere of a classroom.  Creating a respectful environment isn’t really about rules on a wall. It just needs one person willing to say something when everyone else stays quiet.

Pakistan’s banking sector is experiencing a fast pace digital transformation, which includes inception of new digital banks as well as digitalization of the banking services, like Raast, Roshan Digital Accounts etc. Nevertheless, this digitalization sometimes causes technology mistakes / errors in the banking systems as well. One such issue, though to a little extent, is the matter of mistakenly credited amounts to the customers’ accounts, due to system glitches. And unluckily, it is rare that the customers, who are beneficiaries of such mistaken credits, ever bother to intimate the banks about it or return the mistakenly credited amounts. The recovery of such amounts is though legally possible, however, since it is civil cause action, falling within the jurisdiction of civil courts, therefore, it becomes cumbersome for the banks to recover such amounts, easily and speedily. Needless to mention that the subject recovery does not fall within the jurisdiction of the Banking Courts and hence, speedy trial / summary procedure trial is not available for this kind of recovery. In addition, it is also difficult in these cases to have the support of the law enforcement agencies, due to some legal framework’s problems. Luckily, a learned Judge of the Lahore High Court Lahore has recently passed a remarkable judgement on the subject matter, which will support the banks, in such matters. The judgement is regarding a case, where a bank’s system mistakenly credited a significant amount to one of its customers, who utilized a major portion of the amount . The bank pursued the customer and he gave a cheque for the amount involved. The cheque was later bounced, due to insufficient funds in the account and the bank then lodged FIR against him under Section 489-F. He was arrested and his bail was refused by the lower Court, against which he approached the High Court. The High Court observed that the amount received by customer was not meant to be utilized by him, but it was to be retained and preserved by him for return back to the bank. The Honourable Court further observed that the customer was supposed and required to inform the sender/bank regarding the error and make arrangements for its return to the owner/bank. Furthermore, the Honourable Court observed that as soon as the customer became in a position to exercise his control over the property, the property stood entrusted to him impliedly, but he instead of returning the same to its owner/bank, withdrew significant amount and embezzled the same, as such offence punishable under Section 406 of PPC was fully attracted against him. This case will become a precedent that if a bank customer receives mistakenly credited amount in his account and utilizes it, then it will be an offence of Breach of Trust, under Section 406 of Pakistan Penal Code. The Judgement is reported as PLJ 2025 Cr. C 797 LHC.

Some things become part of your identity long before you understand why.   My love for Kashmir is one of them.   I have never had to convince myself that Kashmir mattered. It simply did. I suspect most Pakistanis would say the same. We grew up believing that Kashmiris were not strangers separated by a Line of Control, but brothers and sisters separated by circumstance.   Over time, that state narrative became something far more personal. It became brotherhood.   And brotherhood, if it means anything at all, means respecting the other’s right to make decisions for themselves.   That is why I find myself standing with the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir today.   Not because I oppose Pakistan.   But because I support Kashmir.   The public conversation has been reduced to “twelve seats,” as though the protesters have suddenly developed an irrational dislike for a number.   They haven’t.   This has never been about twelve seats.   It is about who gets to decide the political future of Azad Jammu and Kashmir.   For those unfamiliar with the issue, the Legislative Assembly of Azad Jammu and Kashmir consists of forty-five directly elected seats. Twelve additional seats are reserved for refugees from Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir who now reside in Pakistan.   On paper, the idea is understandable. Pakistan’s position has always been that the people displaced from their homes remain Kashmiris and should not lose their political voice merely because conflict forced them across the border.   No reasonable person would dispute that displaced Kashmiris deserve representation.   But representation is one thing.   Control is another.   Of those twelve refugee constituencies, nine are elected from Punjab and three from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. In practical terms, this means that more than a quarter of the directly elected Assembly is chosen by voters living outside Azad Jammu and Kashmir.   The question almost asks itself.   How can the government of a people be decided, in such significant part, by those who do not live under its administration?   Imagine if overseas Pakistanis not only voted in Pakistan’s general elections, but their constituencies alone regularly decided who became Prime Minister. Imagine if governments in Lahore or Karachi depended upon votes cast by people who did not live there. We would immediately recognise the democratic tension.   So why is it unreasonable for Kashmiris to ask the very same question?   Supporting that question does not weaken Pakistan’s position on Kashmir.   If anything, it strengthens it.   For decades, Pakistan has argued before the international community that Kashmiris possess the right to determine their own political future. Self-determination has been the moral foundation of our case.   That principle cannot stop at the Line of Control.   If we genuinely believe Kashmir belongs to the Kashmiris, then we must also believe that Kashmiris deserve the greatest possible ownership over their own democratic institutions.   Yet the debate does not end there.   Many voices now demand the immediate abolition of the refugee seats.   The law, however, is more complicated than the slogans.   In June 2026, the Supreme Court of Azad Jammu and Kashmir reaffirmed that these seats are entrenched within Article 22 of the Interim Constitution. The Court described any alteration to the Assembly’s composition as a solemn constitutional act, not something to be extracted through political pressure. Moreover, Article 33 requires prior approval from the Government of Pakistan before amendments affecting core constitutional structures may even be introduced in the Assembly.   And perhaps that raises an even bigger question than the twelve seats themselves.   Why should a legislature elected by the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir require Islamabad’s permission before debating changes to its own constitutional structure?   If our answer is that Pakistan has always stood by Kashmir, then I ask another question.   Since when has standing beside someone entitled us to stand over them?   Brotherhood is not guardianship.   Solidarity is not supervision.   Support is not control.   Pakistan has sacrificed diplomatically, politically and morally for the Kashmiri cause. That history deserves recognition. But history cannot become a perpetual licence to decide what is best for Kashmiris without listening to Kashmiris themselves.   The protests are not asking Pakistan to abandon Kashmir.   They are asking Pakistan to trust Kashmir.   Those are two very different things.   Whether the present constitutional arrangement ultimately changes is a matter for constitutional process, not street pressure. But constitutional process should never become an excuse to avoid constitutional questions.   The protesters have asked one.   It deserves an answer.   Because this was never about twelve seats.   It was always about whether we truly believe that the future of Kashmir should be written by Kashmiris themselves.

The first part of this series argued that Pakistan’s recurring fiscal crises cannot be understood through conventional economic analysis alone. The distinction between public finance and Constitutional Political Economy (CPE) must now be explained. Both examine the role of the state in economic life, but they begin from different assumptions and ask fundamentally different questions. Traditional public finance is primarily concerned with what governments ought to do. In the classical framework associated with Richard Musgrave, fiscal policy performs three principal functions: allocation of resources, redistribution of income and macroeconomic stabilisation. Governments provide public goods, correct market failures, reduce unacceptable inequalities and use taxation and expenditure to promote stability and growth. This framework remains indispensable for analysing budgets, taxes and public expenditure. The International Monetary Fund’s discussion of Musgrave’s framework confirms its enduring influence on fiscal analysis. The difficulty arises when the state is treated as a single, impartial institution pursuing social welfare. In the real world, governments consist of politicians, bureaucrats, legislators, judges, regulators and numerous organised interests. Each operates under incentives and constraints. Political actors do not cease to pursue power, institutional advantage or personal interest merely because they enter public office. A tax system may therefore be inefficient not because its designers misunderstood economic theory, but because inefficiency benefits influential constituencies. An exemption may survive not because it promotes investment, but because its beneficiaries possess political power. Public expenditure may be allocated not according to social need, but according to the ability of institutions and groups to influence the budgetary process. Public finance generally asks: what tax would be efficient, equitable and productive? CPE asks a prior question: what political and constitutional arrangements will cause those in authority to adopt and administer such a tax fairly? This difference emerged most clearly in the work of James M. Buchanan, who was awarded the 1986 Nobel Prize for developing the contractual and constitutional foundations of economic and political decision-making. Buchanan argued that economists must specify their model of politics before recommending policies. They should examine the “constitution of economic polity”—the rules and constraints within which political actors make decisions—rather than assuming that government automatically acts as a benevolent guardian of collective welfare. In The Calculus of Consent, Buchanan and Gordon Tullock applied economic reasoning to collective decision-making. They distinguished between choices made within existing rules and choices concerning the rules themselves. Ordinary politics concerns decisions taken under established constitutional arrangements. Constitutional political economy examines how those arrangements should be designed, whose consent they require and what incentives they create. The distinction may be understood through the analogy of a game. Public finance often studies the moves made by players: whether a tax rate should be increased, expenditure reduced, subsidies withdrawn or borrowing limited. CPE examines the rules of the game: who may impose a tax, who may approve expenditure, how revenues are distributed, what majorities are required, which institutions are accountable and what remedies exist when power is abused. The rules determine the range of possible outcomes. Replacing one finance minister, tax administrator or economic adviser cannot fundamentally alter results if the institutional incentives remain unchanged. Buchanan and Geoffrey Brennan developed this insight further in The Reason of Rules. Their focus was not merely upon particular policy choices but upon the rules governing political and market interaction. CPE therefore does not ask only whether a government policy appears desirable. It asks whether the institutional process through which it is adopted protects citizens against arbitrary, discriminatory or predatory use of power. This approach does not imply hostility towards the state. A capable state is essential for education, healthcare, infrastructure, environmental protection, social security and economic development. CPE merely refuses to assume that state power will automatically be exercised for these purposes. A strong state without constitutional restraints may become strong against ordinary citizens while remaining weak before powerful interests. These insights are neither exclusively modern nor exclusively Western. Centuries before the emergence of public choice theory, Ibn Khaldun analysed taxation as part of the broader rise and decline of states. He observed that governments in their earlier stages could obtain substantial revenues from relatively moderate assessments, whereas later rulers frequently imposed heavier burdens but collected less as incentives weakened, production contracted and coercive expenditure expanded. Arthur B. Laffer subsequently acknowledged that the proposition associated with the Laffer Curve was not his invention and specifically identified Ibn Khaldun as an important precursor. Ibn Khaldun’s contribution, however, went far beyond a relationship between tax rates and revenue: he connected fiscal policy with political legitimacy, administrative expansion, elite consumption and institutional decline. The Constitution of Pakistan itself demonstrates that taxation is not merely an economic instrument. Article 77 provides that no federal tax may be levied except by or under the authority of an Act of Parliament. The provision embodies the constitutional principle that taxation requires lawful legislative authority; it is not simply an administrative technique for raising revenue. Article 160 creates the National Finance Commission and provides the framework for distributing specified revenues between the Federation and the provinces. Article 160(3A) further protects the provincial share by declaring that it cannot be lower than that provided under the preceding Award. These provisions represent a constitutional bargain concerning political authority, federalism and access to public resources. Revenue distribution is consequently not just an accounting exercise. It forms part of the structure of the federation itself. Article 140A requires the provinces to establish elected local governments and devolve political, administrative and financial responsibility to them. Fiscal policy cannot produce accountable public services when decision-making remains remote from citizens and constitutionally required devolution is treated as optional. Articles 37 and 38 contain important commitments regarding social justice, education, economic well-being, reduction of inequality and provision of basic necessities. They are Principles of Policy rather than directly enforceable Fundamental Rights, and Article 30 limits their judicial enforceability. Their inclusion nevertheless demonstrates that the constitutional purposes of revenue collection extend beyond achievement of numerical tax targets. The state collects resources to fulfil social and economic obligations, not