before map new

Before We Map New Provinces: Replacing Colonial Bu…

For eighteen years, I have made a quiet, sometimes lonely case: that technology, not more paperwork and more offices, is the only honest path to good governance in Pakistan. I did not arrive at this conviction from a textbook. I arrived at it from a desk inside the Planning Commission, watching a system that was designed — on paper — to deliver development, and instead delivered delay, opacity, and grievance.

Anyone who has sat through the sanctioning of a Public Sector Development Program (PSDP) project knows the ritual. The feasibility study is glowing. The PC-1 is approved with confident projections. Committees nod. Funds are released. And then the project disappears into the machinery of provincial implementation, where oversight thins out and accountability evaporates. What was promised on paper and what is delivered on the ground are, more often than not, two entirely different stories. I watched this happen again and again, and each time the gap between sanction and delivery was not explained by a shortage of money or expertise. It was explained by bureaucracy — a system built not to serve citizens but to preserve itself.

This is not an abstract observation. It is the root of a very real and very dangerous problem. A significant part of the unrest we see in Balochistan, in Azad Jammu and Kashmir, and in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is not simply about resources or geography. It is about the absence of transparency and the absence of governance that people can see, question, and trust. When a citizen cannot find out where a development fund went, when a project sanctioned in Islamabad never materializes as promised in a district headquarters, when the only visible authority is a bureaucrat with a stamp and a discretionary signature, resentment grows. People do not rebel against distance from the capital. They rebel against being governed by a system that treats them as subjects to be managed rather than citizens to be served.

And here is the tragedy that too few are willing to name plainly: the bureaucratic architecture we still operate under was never designed to serve the governed. It was designed by the British Raj to control a colonized population — to extract revenue, maintain order, and ensure that authority always flowed downward from a distant center, never upward from the people. Files, layers of clearance, and the personal discretion of an officer were features of a colonial control system, not instruments of democratic accountability. We inherited that machinery at independence and, astonishingly, kept it largely intact. The tool built to pacify a colony has been repurposed, with barely a redesign, to govern a republic. It should trouble us deeply that a structure engineered to keep a colonized people in check is now one of the principal reasons that Pakistan’s most marginalized regions distrust their own government.

So when the conversation turns, as it periodically does, to creating new administrative units — carving out new divisions, new districts, new tiers of provincial machinery — as the answer to Balochistan’s or KPK’s grievances, I feel obligated to push back, loudly. Before we draw a single new administrative boundary, we must confront the core disease, not multiply its symptoms. New units will not dilute bureaucratic power; they will replicate it. Every new administrative tier is another office, another set of discretionary signatures, another opportunity for the same colonial-era logic of gatekeeping to entrench itself further. For the aggrieved citizen in Turbat or Muzaffarabad or Bannu, a new secretariat is not relief. It is simply a new address for the same unaccountable authority. We would be handing the bureaucracy — an institution that has shown a consistent instinct for self-preservation — more territory to govern, not less power to abuse. Real relief requires shrinking the space in which discretion operates unchecked, not expanding the number of desks where it can be exercised.

This is precisely why the moment for AI-enabled local governance has arrived, and why Pakistan can no longer afford to treat it as a distant aspiration. Around the world, and notably across India, urban local bodies and municipalities are moving beyond basic digitization toward what might be called algorithms of accountability — systems purpose-built to increase transparency, limit human discretion where it invites abuse, and protect citizen data. These frameworks generally rest on a few consistent pillars: ensuring that automated public decisions on things like welfare disbursement or tax assessment can be audited and challenged rather than buried in a file; protecting citizen data through clear legal safeguards; requiring any private vendor supplying government technology to disclose how its systems work; and actively checking automated tools for bias against marginalized communities.

The Indian experience offers concrete, transferable lessons. Municipal bodies in cities like Delhi and Bengaluru now use satellite imagery and mapping systems to flag unauthorized construction and property tax discrepancies — but critically, they pair this with a human-verification step, so an algorithm’s flag is only ever an advisory alert, not a final punishment, creating a documented trail a citizen can actually contest. States such as Telangana and Maharashtra have deployed multilingual citizen chatbots to handle civic complaints, built with data-masking safeguards that strip personal information before it ever touches a broader system. Smart-city command centers in Surat and Pune operate under strict data retention rules, so surveillance footage is automatically deleted unless tied to an active investigation, preventing the machinery from becoming a permanent surveillance state. And where facial-recognition attendance systems have been used to track municipal staff, unions pushed successfully for dispute mechanisms so that a technical glitch never costs a worker their wages.

None of these systems eliminate human judgment. What they eliminate is unaccountable, invisible, discretionary human judgment — the exact currency the colonial bureaucracy was built to trade in. That is the reform Pakistan needs at the local government level: not another administrative layer, but a transparent, auditable, citizen-facing system that makes it structurally difficult for a project to vanish between sanction and delivery, and structurally easy for a citizen in the most neglected corners of this country to see, in real time, where the money went and why.

Eighteen years ago I believed this was a matter of efficiency. Today I believe it is a matter of national survival. We cannot keep asking why the periphery feels alienated from the state while refusing to dismantle the very colonial machinery that manufactures that alienation. The choice before us is not between more bureaucracy and less. It is between a system engineered to control people and one engineered to serve them. Technology, honestly deployed, is how we finally choose the latter.

Enough delay. Enough committees. Enough files that travel for months and decisions that arrive too late to matter. Pakistan does not need more ink on more forms — it needs transparency, it needs accountability, it needs delivery the citizen can actually see, and it needs it now.

A Direct Message to the Prime Minister of Pakistan

Mr. Prime Minister, hear this plainly: carving new provinces out of old grievances, while leaving the same unreformed bureaucracy in charge of them, will not be reform. It will be a disaster — a slower-motion repeat of the same betrayal, multiplied across more offices, more secretariats, more discretionary stamps. A new province built on the old colonial machinery is not liberation for the people of Balochistan, AJK, or Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. It is the same cage, repainted, and handed a new name.

So here is the test of real courage and real intent. If the ambition is to bring the state closer to its people, then go further than anyone has dared: create not five new provinces, not ten — create a hundred, if that is what devolution demands. But build every single one of them on a foundation of AI-driven governance, radical transparency, and algorithmic accountability, not on the discretionary power of a bureaucrat’s signature. Let every rupee of every PSDP project be trackable by the citizen it was meant to serve. Let every grievance be logged, timestamped, and answered — not buried. Let no officer’s personal discretion ever again stand between a promise made in Islamabad and a result delivered in a village.

This — and only this — is what the people of Pakistan actually want. Not new maps. Not new masters. They want to see where the money went. They want a government that answers to them, not one that manages them. Mr. Prime Minister, the technology exists. The models exist. The political will is the only variable still missing. History will not remember how many provinces were drawn on your watch. It will remember whether you finally broke the bureaucracy’s century-old grip on this country’s trust — or whether you handed it more territory to rule. Choose transparency. Choose accountability. Choose the people. Choose now.

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  • The AJK Crisis 

    Azad Jammu and Kashmir has recorded at least 40 deaths since early June in clashes tied to the Joint Awami Action Committee’s campaign against the region’s twelve refugee assembly seats, a toll that predates the events of July 27-28, when JAAC and AJK police gave conflicting counts of 14 to 21 more killed in Rawalakot. The combined total since June likely sits in the high 40s to high 50s, though no independent body has confirmed a single figure; every clash in this sequence has produced a JAAC count and a police count that don’t match, and neither has been verified from outside. The July violence fell during the first phase of a legislative election that AJK’s election commission split into three stages because of the unrest, a break from the territory’s usual practice of voting in a single day. Mirpur division cast ballots on July 27. Rawalakot, in Poonch division, was deliberately held back for the third phase because it has been the epicenter of the agitation. The clashes there on July 27-28 came as JAAC’s long march tried to push through the city toward Muzaffarabad, not on a day its own constituents were voting. That the state felt it necessary to stagger an election by geography to manage a protest movement is itself a measure of how far the crisis had already gone. Law enforcement personnel have been repeatedly targeted through the unrest. Police say an armed JAAC contingent opened fire on officers near Combined Military Hospital Rawalakot in a planned attack, which the region’s police chief called outright terrorism. JAAC disputes this, as it has disputed nearly every account of nearly every clash, saying its own people came under fire after power was cut to the area. Neither version has been independently verified, and the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan has called for an impartial probe into the Rawalakot deaths for that reason. What is not contested is that a movement now banned under anti-terrorism law has been in near-continuous confrontation with police for eight weeks, and that officers have died in it. The dispute traces back to a structural question the state has already answered through the proper channel. Six of the twelve seats go to refugees from the Jammu division, numbering around 434,000; six more go to refugees from the Kashmir Valley, numbering around 30,000. JAAC calls this disproportionate and argues the seats let people who do not live in AJK shape its politics from outside. The AJK Supreme Court ruled on June 7 that the seats are constitutionally protected and can only be altered through a formal amendment, not by administrative order or by protest. The government’s proscription of JAAC under anti-terrorism law came two days earlier, on June 5, ahead of a planned June 9 protest; the worst of the killing followed the ban rather than preceding it. Both sides of that sequence can be argued. What can’t be argued is that the state waited for a body count before invoking the law , it acted first, and the deaths followed. On the demands themselves, the government reports 24 of JAAC’s 44 total demands fully implemented and 16 more partially complete or in process, with 4 at an impasse. That record is substantial, larger than most governments manage against a protest charter. But it does not settle the argument on its own, because none of the 24 completed demands is the refugee-seat question. That one sits among the 16 still unresolved, and it is the demand driving the current violence. A compliance rate built mostly from other line items ; subsidies, cabinet size, judicial commissions, demonstrates the state’s good faith in general. It does not demonstrate its handling of the one issue JAAC is dying and killing over, and that distinction should not be blurred. Even so, the seat question has been settled by the only body with authority to settle it. Abolishing the seats to appease pressure tactics would be unconstitutional on its face, and it would tell any future movement in Pakistan that enough disruption can override a court and a negotiated settlement alike. A state that has followed its own constitutional process, implemented most of an agreed reform charter, and still faces an intensifying campaign of blockades and attacks on security personnel has grounds to hold its position; grounds that rest on the process it followed, not on an implementation statistic that doesn’t reach the actual grievance. The state’s strongest move now is to negotiate from the position it has already earned, not concede from a position of weakness. Reweighting the seats toward Jammu’s larger population, pursued through the amendment process the Supreme Court has itself outlined, would resolve the proportionality complaint on the state’s own terms and timeline, not JAAC’s. Offered now, immediately after a disputed mass-casualty event, it would read as capitulation. Offered once the group’s remaining leadership either accepts the court’s authority or is dealt with through the law, it becomes a demonstration of a functioning constitutional order rather than a retreat from one. The state does not owe JAAC a seat at the table it has spent eight weeks helping to blow up. It owes AJK’s residents a government that can enforce the law, account honestly for its own role in how this got this bloody, and eventually fix what is fair within the constitution , in that order.

  • From Mediator to Ally: Pakistan’s Balancing …

    In the space of a single year, Pakistan has moved from the periphery of Middle Eastern diplomacy to its center. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and army chief Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir have positioned the country as both a mediator between Washington and Tehran and, more recently, a formal treaty partner of Saudi Arabia and Turkey. The result  the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement, signed on August 7 in Islam’s holiest city  marks one of the most consequential shifts in South Asian foreign policy in decades. Yet it also raises hard questions about who is really steering Pakistan’s course, and at what long-term cost.   A war that reshaped the region   The backdrop is a war between the United States and Iran that erupted on February 28, drawing in Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states, Iraqi militias and Yemen’s Houthi movement, and disrupting roughly a fifth of the world’s seaborne energy supplies through the Strait of Hormuz. Missile and drone exchanges reached Saudi cities, unsettling a region that had spent years trying to de-escalate after the 2015 nuclear deal’s collapse.   Pakistan, one of the few states with working channels to both Washington and Tehran, stepped into the gap. Sharif’s government hosted preliminary contacts that produced the so-called Islamabad Memorandum, under which Iran signalled it would not pursue nuclear weapons  a pledge it had already made under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and the 2015 accord  in exchange for a mechanism allowing it to dilute stockpiles of highly enriched uranium. Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian later thanked Islamabad for its “constructive engagement” in securing a ceasefire and agreed to send negotiators to further talks in the Pakistani capital. Analysts at the Washington-based Stimson Center have noted that Munir personally staked considerable political capital on the diplomacy, given how easily it could have collapsed.       The Makkah pact   That mediating role fed directly into last week’s agreement. Saudi Arabia, repeatedly struck during the war by Iranian missiles and by Tehran-aligned forces in Yemen and Iraq, had already signed a bilateral defence pact with Pakistan in September 2025  struck, notably, just over a week after an Israeli strike on Hamas negotiators in Doha rattled Gulf capitals’ confidence in American security guarantees. The Makkah agreement extends that arrangement into a trilateral pact with Turkey, declaring that an armed attack on any one of the three signatories will be treated as an attack on all.   Pakistani officials describe the pact as purely defensive. Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar said this week it was “not directed against any country” and remained open to other regional states. President Asif Ali Zardari called it a reflection of “shared resolve for peace and security,” while Sharif credited Munir’s “tireless efforts” in securing an arrangement he said had been years in the making. For Riyadh and Ankara, the pact offers a hedge against dependence on any single outside power at a moment when American commitments to the region look less certain than they once did. For Pakistan, it offers closer ties with two wealthy allies, a symbolic role as guardian of Islam’s holiest sites, and outsized influence for a country whose economy remains fragile.   Praise, and pointed scepticism   The agreement has been celebrated in much of Pakistan’s domestic media as evidence that the country’s leadership  civilian and military alike  is finally translating decades of geopolitical positioning into tangible strategic weight. Supporters point to a similar dynamic in May, when a brief but intense military confrontation with India ended within days, after which the government promoted Munir to the rare, largely ceremonial rank of Field Marshal, only the second officer in Pakistan’s history to hold it.   But that same promotion has drawn sharp criticism from analysts who see it as part of a broader consolidation of power by the military at the expense of elected institutions. Munir, appointed army chief in November 2022, has presided over a period in which  according to critics including jailed former prime minister Imran Khan’s supporters  courts, the media and Sharif’s own coalition have operated increasingly under military direction, a system some commentators have dubbed a “hybrid regime.” The Middle East Institute has described Munir’s elevation as “a thunderous declaration of the military’s unassailable supremacy,” while other analysts note that his growing role in foreign and economic policy  well beyond the traditional remit of an army chief  blurs the line between civilian governance and military command in a country with a long history of that line collapsing altogether.   What comes next   None of this diminishes the immediate diplomatic achievement: a ceasefire process that, however fragile, has held; a new pact that binds three influential Muslim-majority states more closely together; and a Pakistan that finds itself, for now, indispensable to great-power diplomacy in a region convulsed by war. Whether that translates into durable stability  for the Gulf, for the broader Middle East, or for Pakistan’s own democratic institutions  remains an open question. The coming months, as the Islamabad talks resume and the Makkah pact’s practical implications become clearer, will test whether this new era represents a genuine diplomatic breakthrough or a further tightening of military control dressed in the language of strategic necessity.

  • Beyond Public Finance: Towards Constitutional Poli…

    The previous part VIII of this series concluded that a just tax system must satisfy more than the requirements of arithmetic. It must rest upon legislative competence, representative consent, rational classification, due process, protection against arbitrary deprivation, transparent expenditure and effective remedies. Parliament, while levying taxes cannot constitutionalise injustice merely by enacting it. Pakistan’s fiscal crisis will not be resolved by asking citizens to finance an unreformed state through increasingly coercive instruments. A recent book by Dr Hafiz A. Pasha, Fatima Malik and Hafsa Tanveer, Pakistan: Reforming an Inefficient and Inequitable Tax System, provides an appropriate opportunity to carry that argument forward. The volume is ambitious, data-rich and deserving of serious attention. Few recent studies attempt, within a single work, to map federal and provincial taxation, estimate tax gaps through different methodologies, examine incidence across income groups and sectors, evaluate fiscal incentives and finally present a quantified reform programme. Its central diagnosis is familiar but supported by extensive empirical work. Pakistan combines high statutory rates with a low tax-to-GDP ratio, excessive dependence on indirect taxation, pervasive evasion, severe sectoral disparities and weak provincial revenue mobilisation. The authors propose reforms that, in their estimation, can increase the national tax-to-GDP ratio by approximately three percentage points by 2027–28. The principal difficulty lies not in what the book measures. It lies in what the framework of measurement necessarily leaves outside its calculations. The usefulness—and limits—of the tax-gap lens The organising idea of the book is the tax gap. Through cross-country regressions, a representative-tax-system approach, monetary estimates of evasion and bottom-up calculations, the authors conclude that Pakistan possesses the potential to collect approximately three percent of GDP more in taxes. This is analytically valuable. It also risks converting a constitutional and political problem into an accounting exercise. A tax gap is not necessarily a reservoir of revenue waiting to be collected. Parts of it may reflect privileges protected by influential groups. Other parts arise from low productivity, fragmented enterprises, unemployment, weak financial inclusion and the regulatory costs created by the state itself. Informality is not always a voluntary choice made for the purpose of evasion; it can also be a survival strategy in an economy where formalisation invites multiple taxes, withholding obligations, inspections and compliance costs without ensuring reliable public services. Citizens also judge taxation in relation to expenditure. Their reluctance cannot be understood solely as non-compliance when additional revenue appears likely to finance debt servicing, administrative expansion, elite concessions, loss-making state enterprises and politically negotiated subsidies rather than education, healthcare, transport, security of property and equal economic opportunity. The decisive question is consequently not only how much more can be collected. It is who controls the state, who bears its burdens, who receives its rents, and why technically sound reforms repeatedly fail. Public finance asks how the gap should be closed. Constitutional Political Economy asks why the beneficiaries of the existing arrangement would permit it to be closed fairly. The selective fiscal state The book repeatedly recognises the presence of powerful vested interests. It identifies the under-taxation of property, agriculture, wholesale and retail trade, real estate and parts of the services sector. At the same time, it finds a disproportionate burden upon large-scale manufacturing, banking and formal businesses. Its estimate that industry bears taxes equivalent to 23.8 percent of its value added, with the incidence on large-scale manufacturing exceeding 36 percent, is particularly revealing. These figures demonstrate that Pakistan does not suffer from a uniformly low-tax equilibrium. Pakistan has created a selective fiscal state: coercive towards visible and organised taxpayers, accommodating towards politically protected or administratively difficult constituencies. This conclusion should change the design of reform. Where political influence determines the tax structure, another catalogue of proposed rates and bases cannot alter the equilibrium by itself. Reform must address the rules through which fiscal choices are made, concessions are granted and enforcement is selectively applied. A technically perfect proposal remains politically irrelevant when those who must enact it derive power from the arrangements it seeks to dismantle. Withholdingisation is not income taxation The book correctly notes that withholding and advance taxes generate overwhelming part of total income-tax revenue and have failed to eliminate evasion. It also recognises the distortions created by presumptive/mimum taxation and the fragmentation of income into separately taxed blocs. The consequences are more serious than those of an imperfect collection technique. Withholdingisation represents the gradual abandonment of income taxation as a levy on net accretion to economic power. Banks, utility companies, telecom operators, employers, import authorities, registrars and purchasers have been converted into unpaid tax collectors. Gross transactions are taxed without determining actual income, allowable expenditure, losses or the taxpayer’s real capacity to contribute. The revenue authority obtains money without developing the institutional capacity to examine accounts, conduct intelligent audits and establish taxable income. Compliant businesses suffer liquidity costs and wait for adjustments or refunds, while informal and influential sectors remain beyond meaningful assessment. The reform of income taxation must restore the return, assessment and audit as its foundations. Withholding should remain confined to situations where it is a genuine advance payment—principally salaries, dividends, profit on debt and payments to non-residents (mostly covered under tax treaties). It should remain fully adjustable against the final liability. A system based upon extracting money from every visible transaction may achieve collection targets. It cannot be described as a coherent income tax. Contradictions within the reform programme The book advocates broad-basing and criticises presumptive taxation, but later recommends restoration of a one-percent fixed tax on export proceeds. It supports neutrality while proposing a general five-year tax holiday for investment, enhanced deductions for energy costs and other selective allowances. These proposals arise from genuine concerns. Pakistan’s investment rate remains dangerously low, exporters face high energy and financing costs, and industry competes under an unstable exchange-rate and tariff environment. The proposed remedies nevertheless risk recreating the same exceptionalism that has made Pakistan’s tax system discriminatory, unpredictable and vulnerable to lobbying. A fixed tax on export proceeds is not a tax on income. It taxes turnover

  • Road to the East

    Vice President Pakistan-China Joint Chamber In the early 1990, when Chinese Government planned to develop the most modern city of the world at the south eat coast of China, named Shenzhen, the Government named it as the window of the world. In the modern history it is the most advanced, beautiful and well-planned city in the world with its population reaching almost 18 million. Along, Shenzhen GDP is bigger than the GDPs of many countries. Similarly, after the Chairman Xhi announced his initiative to develop for a global trade in the name of Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) which is considered to be the biggest financial project globally. In respect to active this project the initiative of CPEC as a flagship project of BRI was taken. Pakistan with its most sage borders with its neighboring countries China is also the key part of this initiative. Considering my experience to travel to China using a road link was started from the small city of Pakistan name coast. Which is even more than like 200 km from the border of the Khunjarab which leads you to enter to the new window of the world which is starting from the south west of China. Directly you pass the immigration process at Tashgorqan, you will feel the things have been entirely changed. My first inspiration was this city for its cultural background buildings, music, food, that totally fascinated me. I was just in the middle ages where there was a very beautiful city to welcome me with all its cultural strength. The city is even smaller like a country of Kashgar but still you can see the international food chains along with a lot of local delicacies. The ethnic people are mainly Chinese and Tajik origin. This city is similarly famous for the yolk beef. And that was my first feast tried at this city. The visitors of the city were even more than the locals who came from all over China to observe the rich culture of this city. Even I spent there few hours but the fascination, beauty and culture of this city will definitely attract me to visit it again. The roads were wide, clean, infrastructure was excellent, like a combination of an old civilization with modern infrastructure. If a got a chance in the future I would love to stay in this city significantly marking the importance of this city even in the ancient time till today. This was the first settlement as a city I found on my way to the Khunjarab border to tashgorqan. The people were very friendly, beautiful and they showed a lot of love not only fore me but for the all visitors. Such a small city with a rich culture for their dressing, music and traditional dance can fascinate anyone. Kashgar is about 5 hours drive from Tashgorqan. Being the second largest city of Xinjian, this city is I may call a new window of the world. Kashgar city which is normally a called as Kashi by Chinese is an inspiration. This city which was formally very undeveloped like a couple of decades before now have become a center of financial activities under the BRI. With its specific location along with the silk route the locals of Kashi claims that this city have a history to 2000 to 5000 years old. I have never observed a city like Xinjiang with such a remote area and having the ethnic communities for more than 13 including Yugur, dominating Han, Tatar, Tajik, Karghaiz, Mangol and many other are among the most prominent ethnic nationalities living in this city. This diversified this city as a multicultural hub.   China Government is very concerned and they are really developing this area with all the available resources they can inject. Within a decade of time Kashi is now one of the modern cities developing with the gigantic speed and its bordering with the countries like Kirghizstan, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Tajikistan. With its population increasing ofr more than 6 million people is one of the biggest city in all this region. Yecheng as a county of Xinjiang, is considered to be a window to Tibet all that, who want to start their expedition to Tibet, they have to start from this city name , Yecheng. I got an opportunity to visit his small city which is similarly fascinating, I should appreciate this all areas are culturally being so rich that every building and every road is telling a new story about this city. What attracted me the most that was the food and the dancing culture of this city with some fascinating music. This area is rich for its dry fruits where you can see the most variety of dry fruits in the world. Yecheng is considered to be a capital city of walnuts. Coming back of Kashi which is my topic of the day, everybody can spend hours and hours to have a look at the rich culture. The Government have preserved the buildings and most of them have been converted into historical places mostly are called in the name of Mehman Khana (Hotel). The walled city of Kashgar is one of the top most attraction for any foreigners and mainland Chinese. Now the Kashi economy is mainly based on tourism as the Chairman Xhi announced in his last speech as tourism and health sector would be the main focus of Chinese Government. The streets of Kashi were swarming with the Chinese from all provinces who were eager to learn more about the history and culture of this region.   To be continued..

  • Vietnam as an Economic Lesson for Pakistan

    Vietnam and Pakistan are often viewed as very different economies, yet they share several important characteristics: large populations, substantial labor forces, strategic geographic locations, sizeable domestic markets and considerable potential in agriculture, manufacturing and services. The more important difference, however, is not simply what the two countries possess, but how effectively they have leveraged those assets into production, exports, investment, foreign exchange and sustained economic growth. The contrast is increasingly visible in the numbers. In 2025, Vietnam’s economy reached approximately $514.7 billion, compared with $407.3 billion for Pakistan, despite Pakistan having more than twice Vietnam’s population. GDP per capita was about $5,066 in Vietnam against $1,596 in Pakistan, while economic growth was 8.0 percent compared with 3.7 percent. Vietnam also attracted FDI equivalent to 4.2 percent of GDP, compared with only 0.5 percent in Pakistan. These figures do not mean that the two countries started from identical circumstances. They do, however, demonstrate the consequences of different approaches to leveraging economic potential.   Vietnam’s transformation began with the Doi Moi reforms in 1986, which gradually moved the economy towards market oriented production and greater integration with international markets. Over the following decades, Vietnam built a growth model around manufacturing, exports, foreign direct investment, infrastructure and participation in global value chains. Trade became one of their principal engine of growth. The scale of this transformation is striking. Vietnam’s merchandise exports reached about $475 billion in 2025, while imports were around $455 billion, producing a trade surplus of approximately $20 billion. Total merchandise trade was therefore close to $930 billion, almost twice the country’s GDP. Manufacturing accounted for nearly 89 percent of exports. This demonstrates the power of economic leverage: labour, infrastructure, foreign investment and imported technology have been combined to produce goods for global markets and generate foreign exchange. The access to US provides a particularly revealing comparison. Vietnam exported approximately $153 billion of goods to the U.S. market in 2025. China, meanwhile, remained its largest source of imports. This reflects Vietnam’s position within regional production networks, where it imports machinery, components and intermediate goods and transforms them into products for export. Vietnam’s experience shows that imports are not necessarily a weakness when they support productive investment and future export capacity. Pakistan’s trade structure remains considerably different. According to the State Bank of Pakistan, goods exports were $32.3 billion in FY2025, while goods imports reached $59.1 billion, resulting in a merchandise trade deficit of $26.8 billion. Services exports were $8.4 billion, including ICT exports of $3.8 billion. The difference becomes even more significant when viewed through the balance of payments. Pakistan recorded a current account surplus of $2.1 billion in FY2025, but workers’ remittances contributed $38.3 billion to the external account. The goods and services trade balance remained in deficit by approximately $29.4 billion. This highlights a fundamental difference between the two economies. Pakistan has been able to stabilize its external account partly through remittances, whereas Vietnam has built a much larger export generating productive base. Remittances are vital for Pakistan, but they cannot substitute for an economy capable of generating foreign exchange through competitive production and exports. The U.S. market further illustrates the gap. The United States is Pakistan’s largest export destination, yet Pakistan’s goods exports to the U.S. are only a small fraction of Vietnam’s. The opportunity therefore exists, but Pakistan has not yet developed the scale, diversification and industrial capacity required to capture a much larger share of the market. The lesson is not simply to increase exports to the United States, but to develop the productive ecosystem that makes sustained export growth possible. Vietnam’s experience also contains an important warning. Its impressive export performance has been driven heavily by foreign invested companies. This has helped Vietnam integrate into global value chains, but it has also created concerns about domestic value addition and linkages between multinational corporations and local firms. The lesson for Pakistan is clear: attracting FDI should not be the final objective. FDI should contribute to technology transfer, supplier development, skills, local procurement and domestic value addition. Pakistan therefore needs to rethink the relationship between imports, investment and exports. Restricting imports may temporarily reduce pressure on the balance of payments, but it does not create competitiveness. Machinery, technology, industrial equipment and productive intermediate goods can expand future production and exports. The objective should be to reduce consumption driven imports while facilitating investment driven imports that strengthen domestic productive capacity. Pakistan’s strategic location linking South Asia with China, Central Asia, Afghanistan, Iran and the Middle East offers major economic opportunities, but infrastructure alone cannot deliver transformation. CPEC, Gwadar, economic corridors, industrial zones and digital connectivity must be linked with productive clusters, reliable energy, logistics, skills and international markets. Pakistan should leverage its existing strengths by moving agriculture towards processing and higher value exports, textiles towards design and technical products, minerals towards processing and value addition, and IT, engineering, pharmaceuticals, tourism and business services towards stronger export performance. Pakistan also needs to make exports a central objective of economic policy. Balance of payments stability cannot depend indefinitely on remittances, external borrowing and periodic financial assistance. FDI policy should focus on quality rather than simply quantity, with incentives linked to technology transfer, local supplier development, skills, domestic value addition and exports. Special economic zones should be developed around clearly identified industries and markets, supported by reliable infrastructure and efficient regulation. CPEC, ports, industrial zones, roads and digital infrastructure should function as integrated production and trade systems rather than isolated projects. Public private partnerships can help mobilize investment where projects are economically and financially viable. The central lesson from Vietnam is that economic success depends on leveraging existing advantages through strong institutions, policy continuity and effective coordination. Pakistan has a large market, substantial workforce, strategic geography, natural resources and access to major markets. The priority should be to convert these assets into productivity, exports, investment and sustainable foreign exchange earnings. Pakistan must turn geography into connectivity, population into productive human capital, resources into value added exports, infrastructure into industrial capacity

  • Key Insights from the University of Oxford’s AI,…

    I recently completed the AI, Justice, and the Rule of Law course, developed by the Saïd Business School at the University of Oxford in collaboration with UNESCO. The course was designed to equip legal professionals, judges, policymakers, researchers and justice sector practitioners with a comprehensive understanding of how artificial intelligence is transforming legal systems and the administration of justice while safeguarding the rule of law. Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a future possibility but an integral part of modern justice systems. A UNESCO survey of judicial operators from 96 countries found that 44% already use AI in their daily work, while only 9% have received formal AI training. AI is already being used in courts across more than one hundred jurisdictions to support legal research, document review, transcription, translation, case management, document summarisation, and drafting assistance. However, AI should not be viewed as a single technology; rather, it should be understood in terms of the specific task it performs within the judicial process. This functional approach is essential because the legal implications of AI depend on where and how it is used. Different categories of AI create different opportunities and risks. Administrative AI is primarily used for case management, transcription, translation, and other routine functions that improve court efficiency. Research and analytical AI assists legal professionals in identifying relevant legislation, precedents, and legal principles. Decision-support AI helps analyse patterns and provide recommendations, while generative AI produces summaries, drafts legal documents, and generates text. Each category presents distinct legal, ethical, and governance challenges, requiring different levels of scrutiny and oversight. A central theme in the course was that AI should support judicial work rather than replace judicial decision-making. Judicial authority must always remain with human judges, who retain ultimate responsibility for interpreting the law and deciding cases. AI can assist by improving efficiency and providing analytical support, but it cannot substitute independent legal reasoning or judicial discretion. The principle of Human-in-the-Loop (HITL) is emphasized, under which meaningful human oversight remains essential whenever AI influences legal processes or outcomes. There are considerable opportunities AI presents for improving justice systems. AI can significantly accelerate legal research, improve case management, automate transcription and translation, summarise lengthy legal documents, and reduce the administrative workload of judges and court staff. By automating repetitive tasks, AI enables judges to devote more time to hearings, legal analysis, and reasoned decision-making. AI has the potential to improve access to justice by making legal services faster, more efficient, and more accessible. Alongside these benefits, there are risks associated with AI in the justice sector. Generative AI may produce hallucinated legal authorities, inaccurate citations, or misleading legal analysis. Algorithmic bias may reinforce existing inequalities, while automation bias can encourage users to place excessive trust in AI-generated outputs without independent verification. Other important concerns include the lack of transparency in ‘black box’ algorithms, risks to privacy and confidentiality, and the possibility that excessive reliance on AI may gradually erode the professional skills and independent judgment of legal practitioners. The responsible adoption of AI requires governance rather than simply introducing new technology. Effective implementation depends upon institutional AI policies, comprehensive risk and human rights impact assessments, pilot testing before deployment, continuous monitoring and evaluation, transparency, explainability, and accountability. The importance of multidisciplinary oversight involving judges, technologists, policymakers, and civil society to ensure that AI systems remain trustworthy and aligned with the principles of justice and the rule of law. Another important aspect of the role of AI is in promoting access to justice. AI-powered legal assistants can help self-represented litigants understand legal procedures, prepare legal documents, translate court materials into different languages, and support mediation and dispute resolution processes. These applications have the potential to make legal information and services more accessible, particularly for individuals who face financial, linguistic, or geographical barriers in accessing justice. However, the ethical and professional responsibility always remains with human legal professionals. Regardless of how sophisticated AI systems become, judges remain accountable for their decisions, and lawyers remain responsible for the accuracy, quality, and integrity of their work. AI cannot replace professional ethics, judicial independence, impartiality, or the duty to provide transparent, reasoned, and legally sound judgments. Overall, AI should be viewed as a powerful judicial support tool rather than a judicial decision-maker. Its responsible use depends upon understanding the function of each AI system, maintaining meaningful human oversight, safeguarding fundamental rights, ensuring transparency and accountability, and adopting strong institutional governance so that technological innovation strengthens, rather than undermines, the rule of law.

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