beyond public finance

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 irrespective of profitability, penalises low-margin exporters and confers an unintended advantage upon businesses earning higher margins. A general tax holiday invites the relabelling, reconstruction or transfer of existing activities into supposedly new entities. Special deductions obscure the measurement of real income and create fresh opportunities for classification disputes.

Investment, both domestic and foreign, is better encouraged through macroeconomic stability, competitive energy prices, accelerated depreciation, loss carry-forwards, neutral investment allowances, efficient infrastructure and predictable low-rate taxation. These measures reward actual capital formation without permanently fragmenting the tax base. Pakistan’s history shows that every temporary concession develops a permanent constituency.

Property taxation and constitutional competence

The book estimates substantial revenue potential from urban immovable property tax, capital value tax, rental income, capital gains and property transactions. Its empirical emphasis is justified. Wealth accumulated in real estate has remained inadequately taxed, while speculative investment in land has diverted capital from productive activity. Its constitutional classification, however, requires reconsideration.

The book places capital gains arising from immovable property among federal revenues and appears to assume that federal and provincial taxes may operate simultaneously over different manifestations of property. Such an assumption cannot be sustained without confronting Entry 50 of Part I of the Federal Legislative List, Fourth Schedule to the Constitution.

Constitutional competence depends upon the true nature of a levy, not the label assigned to it by Parliament. Rental income is the fruit produced by property and may properly fall within federal income taxation. Appreciation realised upon disposal concerns the capital value of immovable property—the tree itself. The distinction is not semantic. It determines the constitutional allocation of taxing authority between the Federation and provinces.

Revenue expediency cannot enlarge a legislative entry. A federal tax cannot become constitutionally valid merely because it is inserted into the Income Tax Ordinance, 2001 and described as capital gain.

A serious reform programme must therefore distinguish between the taxation of income derived from property, the taxation of its capital value, and transaction-based levies associated with its transfer. Fiscal federalism cannot be redesigned through statutory labels.

Revenue without expenditure transformation

The book seeks an additional three percent of GDP in revenue so that fiscal deficits and debt accumulation may be contained and social and development expenditure expanded. The objective is desirable. Its achievement depends upon an assumption that Pakistan’s political economy has repeatedly contradicted: that additional revenue will automatically produce socially productive expenditure.

Revenue mobilisation has repeatedly been absorbed by rising debt servicing, security imperatives, administrative expenditure, energy-sector losses, subsidies benefiting influential groups and the continued financing of inefficient state-owned enterprises.

Tax reform without expenditure reform may create a larger state without creating a better one. Citizens cannot indefinitely be asked to finance institutions whose priorities they do not determine and whose benefits they do not receive equitably. The legitimacy of taxation depends not only upon lawful collection but also upon transparent, accountable and constitutionally defensible expenditure.

The tax-to-GDP ratio, viewed in isolation, tells us little about justice, productivity or state capacity.

A higher ratio obtained through petroleum levy, regressive consumption taxation, turnover-based income taxes, blocked refunds and coercive withholding may deepen rather than cure structural weaknesses.

Beyond another catalogue of reforms

Hafiz Pasha and his co-authors have produced an important statistical map of Pakistan’s tax system. Their estimates of tax incidence, evasion, property under-taxation and sectoral inequality deserve careful engagement.

Their discussion of the PIDE-PRIME Tax Reforms Commission, 2024 also brings into the book proposals for a citizen-friendly, transparent and predictable regime; taxation of income without discrimination by source; reduction of corporate taxation; withdrawal of super tax and turnover tax; abolition of presumptive regimes; harmonisation of sales tax on goods and services; reduction of VAT; and eventual elimination of most withholding taxes.

The limitation is not a lack of sound proposals. It is that the analysis remains largely within public finance.

The book asks what a more efficient and equitable tax system should look like. Constitutional Political Economy asks why Pakistan persistently chooses—and preserves—an inefficient and inequitable one.

The next reform effort does not need another catalogue of rates, exemptions and revenue estimates. It must address the distribution of political power, constitutional allocation of taxing authority, independence of tax adjudication, accountability for public expenditure, federal-provincial coordination, and the incentives confronting legislators and tax administrators.

Pakistan’s tax crisis is not a shortage of proposals. It is the predictable fiscal expression of a rent-distributing, externally dependent and weakly accountable state. Until that state is transformed, even the best-designed tax system will remain another technically persuasive plan defeated by the political order it was never designed to change.

The next [concluding part] will highlight that ultimate purpose of taxation is not to enlarge the power of the state over citizens, but to enable citizens, through a constitutionally restrained state, to secure justice, dignity and shared prosperity. Only then will taxation cease to be an instrument of extraction and become an expression of constitutional citizenship.

[To be continued]

____________________________________________________________________

Dr. Ikramul Haq, Advocate Supreme Court, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds an LLD in tax laws. He was full-time journalist from 1979 to 1984 with Viewpoint and Dawn. He also s

Similar Posts

  • Musharraf and ‘Absolutely Not’: The My…

    By Ali Hiader A certain segment in Pakistan has been gaining momentum in arguing that had dictator General Pervez Musharraf—like Imran Khan—said “Absolutely Not” to Washington, Pakistan might have been spared the scourge of terrorism and the subsequent economic hardships. However, such an argument attempts to view the decision made in 2001 through the lens of circumstances that emerged years later. The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, shook the United States and sent shockwaves through the global order; approximately 3,000 people lost their lives, and institutions regarded globally as symbols of American economic and military might were targeted. These attacks challenged the security of the world’s sole superpower and generated intense public pressure on the President George W. Bush’s administration to take retaliatory action. For the United States, inaction had become politically almost impossible. Responsibility for these attacks was attributed to Al-Qaeda and its leader, Osama bin Laden—a Saudi national who was living in Afghanistan under Taliban protection. Initially, Bin Laden denied responsibility for the attacks, but his later statements increasingly portrayed as a retaliatory response to American policies. Regardless of how these statements were interpreted politically, by the end of 2001, it was clear to Washington that Al-Qaeda was the primary enemy and that Afghanistan was the hub of its operations. This context holds particular significance for Pakistan because the Taliban government was harboring Osama bin Laden. Pakistan was not merely a distant spectator to this crisis; it shared a long border with Afghanistan and had spent two decades during the Cold War establishing an extensive political and intelligence network there. Consequently, the United States had no better option than Pakistan. Therefore, the fundamental question is: Did Pakistan truly have the option to simply say “absolutely not,” instead of joining the American war? Pakistan was already grappling with severe economic and diplomatic vulnerabilities during the post-9/11 crisis, as the United States and other Western nations had imposed harsh economic sanctions following the 1998 nuclear tests. These sanctions slowed the pace of development, hampered foreign investment, and strained relations with global financial institutions, leaving the country already burdened by heavy debt. The situation became further complicated when General Pervez Musharraf seized power in October 1999, overthrowing an elected government. The military coup added fuel to the fire, further damaging Pakistan’s global reputation and leaving the country diplomatically weakened at a time when it needed international support the most. Following the September 11 attacks, Washington made its expectations absolutely clear. According to Musharraf’s own account, US Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage delivered a stern message to Pakistan: it had to stand either with the United States or against it. Another remark widely attributed to the US position was that if Pakistan refused to cooperate, it could be sent “back to the Stone Age.” Although the exact wording of that phrase was never officially substantiated, the intensity of US pressure was undeniable. Did the United States have the capability to inflict devastating damage on Pakistan, despite Pakistan being a nuclear power? The answer to this is “yes.” Pakistan’s nuclear capability was primarily developed to deter India. Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal provided Islamabad with a strategic deterrent against its key regional rival, but this did not mean Pakistan was immune to American economic, diplomatic, or technological pressure. Pakistan lacked the long-range military capabilities to directly strike the U.S. mainland—located 7,000 miles away—whereas the United States held an overwhelming advantage in air power, naval strength, intelligence, technology, financial resources, and global diplomatic influence. Therefore, nuclear weapons were not synonymous with strategic parity with the United States. Pakistan could deter certain types of aggression from India, but realistically, it lacked the capability to inflict the same level of damage upon the United States. Another major reason for Pakistan’s importance to the United States was the intelligence network present in Afghanistan. During the Cold War, Pakistan was one of the United States’ key regional partners in supporting the Afghan resistance against the Soviet occupation. Pakistani intelligence agencies established extensive networks among Afghan groups, while the United States and Saudi Arabia provided arms and financial support for the resistance. Pakistan served as a crucial conduit for channeling this aid to the Afghan resistance. This historical relationship gave the United States a unique strategic advantage after 9/11. Pakistan possessed a combination of geography, intelligence networks, logistical routes, and institutional experience—assets that would have been extremely difficult to replace. Its cooperation could significantly facilitate U.S. operations in Afghanistan. Consequently, Islamabad chose the path it deemed relatively less damaging. Pakistan provided assistance through logistical support, access to airspace and facilities, intelligence cooperation, and other means, but did not directly join the war; in return for this strategic support, US sanctions were eased, economic aid increased, and Pakistan regained special diplomatic significance in Washington. This does not mean that the decision was without negative consequences. Pakistan itself became a major target of terrorism, resulting in the deaths of nearly 70,000 civilian and military personnels and economic losses of approximately $150 billion; Pakistan paid a very heavy price for this war. Furthermore, the repercussions of the strategic policies adopted during the 1980s and 1990s later manifested as problems for Pakistan—issues that perhaps could not have been fully foreseen in 2001. However, there is an important distinction here: criticizing the consequences of a decision and claiming that a different realistic course of action existed at the time are two separate things. A major irony of the Afghan war is that U.S. officials and analysts have repeatedly cited Pakistan as one of the primary reason for the failure to achieve American objectives in Afghanistan. When the question arises as to why the world’s most powerful military failed to achieve its objectives in Afghanistan, the answer is sometimes given in a single word: Pakistan. This should not necessarily be viewed as a badge of honor; rather, it reflects a complex relationship in which Washington needed Pakistan yet lacked trust in it, while simultaneously accusing certain Pakistani elements of supporting forces that were undermining

  • Man: The Cruelest Animal?

    “Remember your humanity, and forget the rest”— Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein, The Russell–Einstein Manifesto, 1955   On the morning of August 6, 1945, Hiroshima was a living city. Children were preparing for school, workers were beginning another day, meals were being eaten, conversations remained unfinished and countless ordinary plans had been made for an evening many would never see. At 8:15 am, a single atomic bomb changed all that. In seconds, a city became an inferno and human ingenuity demonstrated what it was capable of when divorced from human conscience. Three days later, Nagasaki suffered the same fate.   More than eight decades have passed, yet the mind still struggles to comprehend what happened. Not merely the scale of destruction, but the extraordinary contradiction it represented. Human beings had acquired sufficient knowledge of physics to split the atom but apparently insufficient wisdom to prevent that knowledge from being used to incinerate fellow human beings. This raises an uncomfortable question: is man the cruellest animal?   Animals kill. Nature is certainly not a sentimental place. Predators hunt for food, animals fight over territory, mates and dominance, and some species occasionally kill for reasons other than immediate survival. Yet no creature other than Homo sapiens has transformed killing into an organised industry. No animal constructs factories to manufacture weapons capable of destroying entire cities. None develops elaborate ideologies to justify mass slaughter, calculates acceptable casualties or decorates members of its species for becoming exceptionally efficient at killing others. Only the supposedly “wise man” has achieved such sophistication.   The atomic bombings cannot, of course, be examined outside the horrors of the Second World War. Nazi Germany had perpetrated the holocaust. Imperial Japan had committed horrific atrocities across Asia. Cities had already been devastated by conventional and incendiary bombing. Millions of soldiers and civilians were dead. Defenders of the decision to use atomic weapons maintain that the bombs accelerated Japan’s surrender and avoided an invasion that could have caused enormous casualties on both sides. Critics have long questioned whether alternatives existed and whether the second bombing, in particular, was necessary.   Historians may continue debating these questions. Humanity must confront another. At what point does military necessity cease to provide moral shelter for the deliberate infliction of unimaginable suffering upon civilians? Perhaps the most disturbing legacy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is not simply that atomic bombs were used. It is that humanity had reached a stage where the destruction of enormous number of ordinary people could be incorporated into strategic calculation. Human beings had become numbers. Therein lies the first requirement of organised cruelty: dehumanisation.   Before we can inflict unbearable suffering upon others, we must somehow stop seeing them as ourselves. They become the enemy, an alien race, religion, nationality, sect or ideology. Children become unfortunate collateral damage. Dead bodies become casualty figures. Destroyed neighbourhoods become strategic targets. Language performs the anaesthesia that conscience might otherwise refuse. Once human beings are converted into categories, almost anything becomes possible.   History is littered with evidence. Colonial atrocities required subject populations to be regarded as inferior. Ethnic cleansing requires neighbours to become enemies. Genocide requires individual faces to disappear behind collective labels. Modern warfare similarly becomes easier to tolerate when suffering is viewed through satellite images rather than through the eyes of a mother holding her dead child. Perhaps that explains one of the strangest contradictions of our species. The same human hand that tenderly caresses a newborn can press the button that launches a missile towards somebody else’s newborn.   The same species that produces Mozart and Rumi, builds hospitals, writes poetry, explores distant planets and risks lives rescuing strangers from disasters also constructs concentration camps, torture chambers, chemical weapons and nuclear warheads. How can such tenderness and such barbarity inhabit the same creature?   We proudly call ourselves civilised. Yet civilisation cannot merely mean technological advancement. If anything, technology without corresponding moral advancement makes human beings more dangerous, not less. A primitive weapon can kill one person. Human intelligence created weapons capable of killing millions. Science gives us power. It does not necessarily give us wisdom. That distinction should haunt us.   The scientists who unlocked the secrets of the atom demonstrated one of humanity’s greatest intellectual achievements. But when knowledge becomes separated from ethics, achievement can become catastrophe. Ten years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein, together with other distinguished scientists, issued their famous manifesto warning humanity about nuclear war. Their appeal was breathtakingly simple: “Remember your humanity, and forget the rest.”   What an extraordinary plea to have to make to human beings. Remember that the person across the border is human. Remember that the child beneath the rubble is human. Remember that the mother screaming outside a hospital is human. Remember that beneath uniforms, flags, religions, ethnicities and nationalities beats essentially the same vulnerable human heart.   Yet eighty-one years after Hiroshima, humanity still maintains nuclear arsenals capable of inflicting destruction on a scale those who witnessed 1945 could scarcely have imagined. Governments speak comfortably of deterrence, strategic balance, tactical nuclear weapons and acceptable responses. Behind this sophisticated vocabulary lies an elementary reality: we have created instruments capable of annihilating ourselves and entrusted their possible use to human beings subject to anger, ambition, miscalculation and fear. What could be more absurd?   Perhaps the problem lies in our understanding of civilisation itself. We measure progress through economic growth, scientific discovery, technological innovation and military capability. We celebrate artificial intelligence, space exploration and machines capable of performing tasks once thought impossible but are we becoming better human beings? Can technological advancement truly be called progress if our moral consciousness remains primitive?   The jungle may be brutal, but it possesses no Hiroshima, no Nagasaki, no Bosnia, no Rwanda and no Gaza. Animals do not convene conferences to plan genocide. They do not manufacture propaganda to persuade millions to hate strangers. They do not teach generations to inherit ancient hostilities. Above all, they have never developed

  • How China Intimidated the United States of America

       For as long as the world can recall, the United States have controllably preserved their seat as the strongest one in the council of global superpowers- defeating the Nazis, USSR and setting their currency as the medium of trade and exchange. However, in recent events this strong hold seems to have become weakened as on the other side of the world a new power emerges, a power that the United States considers the biggest threat to their existence- the new super power China.   Ironically, China was still developing and submerged in poverty a few decades ago holding up its communist views and rejecting the new capitalist western world. Though they were not completely cut off on giving this new ideology a try, opening their first economic zone in Shenzhen in 1980 to pursue foreign investments and market based economic trade. Soon enough they realized the potential it had and once they started, they were quite impossible to stop.   It was in the 2010s that China had found numerous ways to include itself in the exporting and manufacturing industry. Every household was filled with items labeled “made in China”, however they were referred to as a low quality item hence cheaper. China nevertheless learnt, and they were fast learners. They knew that in a world dominated and feared by the United States they would have to have a friendlier approach. They started helping countries including Pakistan and many African nations with infrastructure projects in exchange for leverage and usage of their resources.   On the outside it seemed like a friendly deal, a helpful one even, but China knew that this was their way into achieving ultimate domination. The US was watching this very closely knowing very well what kind of abomination was taking place in front of their eyes, yet they could only spread propaganda about it, calling it “Debt trap Diplomacy” and “Predatory Lending”. The world did not give much thought since theyfinally had someone helping them without any threats and sanctions which they had experienced harshly in the past with the United States .   Uptil now, the USA still had the upper hand on oil and currency domination which was soon to get shaken up as well. Bill Clinton had put a ban on trading Iranian oil in his regime and so was done to Russia after they invaded Ukraine, meaning almost the whole world trading in US dollars could not buy Russian and Iranian oil.  Few of the other powerful currencies that could trade without the US dollar are euro, Japanese yen and Chinese yuan. Thus only China had the willingness to buy the sanctioned oil in their currency under different company names, trade routes which the US would find it difficult to identify and stop.   The United States has had  a history of having these geographical threats against major countries in order to secure their position. The same goes with China, with them using the strait of Malacca in southeast Asia as a passage they could close which would disrupt 80% of China’s oil trade. Chinese leaders have called this the “Malacca Dilemma” in the past.   Since the Iran war, it has come to light that China has once again found a path out of this misery and showed the world silently that this dilemma is far gone. When the whole world was panicking due to the Strait of Harmoz shutting down, China with no hurdles dropped their oil imports by 50% and started using their oil reserves which were more than double than usa. This was a direct showcase to the USA that even if they block straight out of Malacca- China will survive and wont go into an economic shutdown.   Now it is very evident that China has secured its position as an export leader, having significant oil reserves, defenses as well as the support of major countries through mutual diplomacy, and the US is forced down on its knees- especially after the Trump and Biden administration. The US has no options but to comply with China which was seen when Trump and his billionaire delegation visited China- which they were deemed to be intimidated by.

  • Muzaffarabad was more than a rally — It was Nawa…

    The Pakistan Muslim League (N)’s power show in Muzaffarabad during the Azad Jammu and Kashmir election campaign was far more than an ordinary political rally. To me, it marked the re-emergence of Nawaz Sharif as the central figure in Pakistan’s political landscape. The message from Muzaffarabad was unmistakable. Nawaz Sharif spoke of development rather than division, construction rather than confrontation, and public welfare rather than political vendettas. His interaction with the crowd was genuine and heartfelt. One symbolic moment that captured public attention was his light-hearted remark expressing a desire to become the Prime Minister of Azad Jammu and Kashmir. It reflected his affection for the region and the deep emotional bond he has always maintained with the people of Kashmir, whose support has remained consistent throughout his political career. Having covered Pakistani politics for nearly three decades and followed Nawaz Sharif closely since his arrival in London from exile in 2006, I have witnessed every major phase of his political journey. From Duke Street in London, where he addressed party workers during years of political exile, to the massive public gathering in Muzaffarabad, I saw the same determination and resilience that has defined his politics for decades. Few political leaders in South Asia have experienced the highs and lows that Nawaz Sharif has endured. His elected government was overthrown by General Pervez Musharraf in 1999. He was prosecuted, imprisoned and later forced into exile. Years later, he returned to Pakistan and regained political power, only to face another period of legal and political challenges following the Panama Papers case. In my view, elements within the state establishment and parts of the judiciary played significant roles during different phases of these political confrontations. Regardless of differing opinions on those events, what remains remarkable is that every major attempt to end his political career has ultimately been followed by his return to the centre of national politics. Many analysts predicted that the 2024 general elections would mark the end of Nawaz Sharif’s political dominance. I never shared that assessment. Throughout my television appearances and reporting, I consistently argued that he remained the principal decision-maker within the PML-N and that no major political decision was taken without his approval. One of the defining strengths of the Sharif family’s politics has been continuity of leadership. Shehbaz Sharif has repeatedly demonstrated exceptional political loyalty to his elder brother. On several occasions, he chose party unity over personal ambition. Following the difficult electoral environment of 2024, he assumed the office of Prime Minister at a time when Pakistan was facing severe economic and diplomatic challenges. In my assessment, his government helped restore economic confidence, improved macroeconomic stability and steered Pakistan away from a potentially deeper financial crisis. His administrative style has always been focused on governance and delivery rather than political rhetoric. Maryam Nawaz’s rise represents another important chapter in the party’s evolution. During the years when Nawaz Sharif faced political disqualification and exile, she emerged as one of the PML-N’s most visible campaigners. She endured political pressure, remained active throughout the party’s most difficult period and gradually established herself as a national political leader in her own right. As Chief Minister of Punjab, Maryam Nawaz has sought to build her political identity around governance, administrative reforms and public service delivery. Whether one agrees with her politics or not, she has brought energy and visibility to the office and has made rapid implementation of development initiatives a defining feature of her administration. Her speeches continue to energise party workers, while her governance record is increasingly becoming central to the PML-N’s political narrative. When I met Nawaz Sharif and Maryam Nawaz at Jati Umra earlier this year, I observed the same resolve that I had seen nearly two decades earlier during the London exile years. The determination to continue serving through politics appeared unchanged. The Muzaffarabad rally reinforced what I have believed for years: Nawaz Sharif has entered another active phase of his political career. His message is no longer about political survival—it is about political continuity, stability and development. Whether one supports him or opposes him, it is difficult to deny one reality. More than forty years after entering politics, Nawaz Sharif remains one of Pakistan’s most enduring and influential political figures. His resilience has become part of Pakistan’s political history, and Muzaffarabad demonstrated that his political story is far from over. The views expressed in this article are solely my personal observations and political analysis based on decades of reporting on Pakistan’s politics.

  • Islamabad’s carriage ride

    I have lived long enough, and travelled enough, to know that a buggy ride is royal. This week, a buggy ride was held in Islamabad and that ride has become a centre of all drawing room discussions. Let me start with what I have seen with my own eyes, many times over, on the streets of London. I walk those streets often, and I see mounted police there almost every week. Big handsome horses, officers sitting tall in the saddle, moving through crowds at football matches, at protests, at royal parades. But here is the thing I want you to notice. Those horses are working. The officer on that horse is doing a job. He is controlling a crowd, keeping an eye on trouble, making sure that thousands of people move safely through narrow streets. Nobody in London looks at a mounted police officer and thinks of him as a king. They think of him as a policeman who happens to have four legs helping him do his job better than two legs could. Then there is the other side of the horse story in London, the royal family. Once or twice a year, you will see the King or a prince ride out in a grand carriage, gold trim, footmen in uniform, the whole show. And it is exactly that, a show. It is theatre, built on centuries of tradition, and everybody watching knows exactly what it is. Royalty is a different breed. Nobody expects the King to explain why he has running water or why the country’s roads have potholes. He was born into that role, and the carriage is part of a costume that comes with the job. People do not confuse that costume with the daily business of government. Now bring me back home, to Islamabad, on our own Independence Day. I watched the video like everybody else did. The chairman of the Capital Development Authority and the inspector general riding in a horse drawn carriage, arriving grandly at the ceremony. And I felt they were not kings. This was not centuries of tradition. This was a serving civil servant and a serving police officer, the very same officers who are supposed to answer to the public every single day, arriving like they were opening a coronation. Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi explains the story behind that ride. He said what happened was not appropriate, but insisted it was not the fault of the IG or the chief commissioner. He says that he and the chief guest were delayed because of the president’s meeting with the prime minister, and that the crowd had been waiting since five in the evening. Around six, when it was clear they would be late, he says he told the officers to start the programme so the public would not have to wait any longer. The buggy, he said, had been arranged for the chief guest, and the officers were only supposed to ride with him, but due to unavoidable circumstances they ended up using it alone. He added that both officers had initially resisted starting the program without him, and that he personally instructed them to proceed, for the convenience of the public. I keep thinking about that journalist who asked a simple, honest question. Have you ever seen the police commissioner of London ride around in a royal buggy? The answer, of course, is no. Because he knows his job is to serve, not to be served. That is the whole difference in one sentence. A horse carriage is a fine thing, in the right hands, for the right reason. In London, it either works, or it performs. In Islamabad this week, it did neither. It simply left a bad taste in everybody’s mouth.

  • Defending Pakistan with Prophetic Guidance

    In the shadowed epochs before the dawn of Islam, the affairs of mankind were beset by profound confusion and moral clutter. The pursuit of ethical values, the recognition of basic human rights, the establishment of social equality, and the fair administration of justice remained fragmented ideals, often trampled beneath tyranny, tribal feuds, and unchecked passions. It fell to the boundless mercy of Almighty Allah to illuminate this darkness through His divine word, the Holy Quran, which brought order, harmony, and clarity to the chaos of human existence. The Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, the final Messenger and Seal of the Prophets, then embodied these heavenly injunctions in his blessed life and teachings, translating sacred principles into living practice for all generations to follow. As centuries unfolded, new challenges and complexities inevitably emerged within Muslim societies. These were met not by innovation detached from revelation, but through the profound insight and disciplined wisdom of the rightly guided Imams and classical Islamic scholars. Their verdicts and interpretations remained ever subordinate in spirit and letter to the Quran and the authentic Sunnah, ensuring fidelity to the original divine sources. In this rich tradition, the requirements of an Islamic state were meticulously outlined; the conduct of government, the promotion of public welfare, the organisation of society, and the solemn duties of jihad. Even the refined manners of warfare received explicit attention, together with the strict conditions and ethical boundaries that must govern any legitimate striving in Allah’s cause. Thus, faith offered comprehensive guidance for both peace and peril. Regrettably, in our own turbulent times, certain elements have invoked the noble name of Islam to perpetrate acts that the Quran and Sunnah utterly repudiate. Prominent among these forbidden paths is khuruj – armed rebellion against legitimate state authority – a violation that the classical scholarly tradition of Islam has condemned with one voice across fourteen centuries as a source of fitnah and grave sin. In Pakistan, extremist factions deliberately distort this consensus to legitimise their campaigns of insurgency and terror. Yet the evidence stands irrefutable; upholding constituted authority remains a binding religious obligation upon every Muslim citizen. The Holy Quran commands with unmistakable clarity: “Obey Allah, obey the Messenger, and those in authority among you.” No scholarly interpretation grants sanction to armed revolt against Pakistan’s institutions. The Prophet, peace be upon him, cautioned that whoever withdraws from the community even by a handspan and dies in that state departs in the death of ignorance. Ibn Taymiyyah, frequently misquoted by militants, in fact affirmed that prolonged rule by an imperfect leader is preferable to anarchy, and he rejected rebellion outright. Imam al-Nawawi and Imam al-Ghazali similarly warned that the cure of insurrection proves worse than the ailment of injustice it claims to heal. The Prophet likened rightful leadership to a shield behind which the people are protected; Pakistan’s security forces fulfil this sacred role today, rendering support for them not merely civic duty but an act of profound religious obedience. Grievances, the Quran directs, must be channelled through lawful avenues – through courts, scholarly counsel, and reasoned advocacy – never through the chaos of the sword. Even in the face of oppression, the Prophet instructed believers to render due rights to authorities while petitioning Allah for their own. The exemplary patience of Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal, who suffered imprisonment under political duress yet never summoned revolt, offers Muslims an enduring model of principled forbearance. Pakistan’s Constitution, itself rooted in Islamic ideals of justice and shura (mutual consultation), provides ample mechanisms for accountability and reform. Democratic participation and legal engagement thus constitute the Islamically sanctioned road to national betterment. At the heart of this guidance shines the Seerah of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, as the consummate model of wasatiyyah – the divinely ordained path of moderation, mercy, and balance. He declared, “I was sent as a mercy to all of mankind,” establishing that his mission was never one of bloodshed or domination but of compassion and upliftment. Upon the conquest of Makkah, he forgave his bitterest enemies with magnanimity, proclaiming that no reproach would cling to them. This act of clemency remains the authentic Sunnah, bearing no resemblance to the violence extremists perpetrate in his name. The Quran defines the Muslim Ummah as “a middle nation,” chosen for equity and temperance. The Prophet protected the lives, property, and dignity of non-Muslims under covenant, warning that he would be their opponent on the Day of Judgment if they were wronged. He commanded kindness and justice toward those who had not waged war against the faith, visited the sick among other communities, reasoned gently with adversaries, and consistently preferred peace when it could be honourably secured. “Make things easy and do not make them difficult,” he counselled, rejecting the harsh extremism that burdens societies. True jihad, as he taught upon returning from the battlefield, begins with the greater struggle against one’s own soul – an internal discipline that terrorism utterly betrays. Pakistan was founded upon this prophetic ethos of justice, tolerance, and inclusive citizenship. In steadfastly defending its institutions against those who would fracture communal peace, its people engage in a service honoured by the divine. The Quran promises that Allah stands with the patient and the persevering. The path of rebellion leads only to greater discord and spiritual ruin, while the way of the Prophet calls believers to mercy, lawful order, justice for all citizens regardless of faith, and unwavering commitment to the welfare of the nation. In this balanced, compassionate, and principled course lies the true flourishing of Pakistan and the enduring honour of the Muslim Ummah.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *