beyond public finance

Beyond Public Finance: Towards Constitutional Poli…

The Part VI of this series argued that Pakistan cannot escape dependency merely by improving tax administration. Better value added taxation, digital integration and fiscal coordination are necessary, but they cannot substitute for constitutional restraints, accountable government and dismantling of systems of privilege.

The same intellectual caution must be applied to the history of economic thought. Conventional accounts often move from Greek philosophy to European scholasticism, mercantilism, Adam Smith and modern economics, leaving several centuries of Muslim intellectual activity in an unexplained gap. This omission creates the false impression that systematic thinking about taxation, markets, money, public expenditure, state responsibility and economic justice developed almost exclusively in the West.

Muslim scholars did not describe their work as “economics” in the modern sense. Economic questions appeared within jurisprudence, ethics, administration, history and political philosophy. Imposing contemporary categories upon them would be anachronistic. Excluding their contributions from the history of economic ideas is equally indefensible. Modern scholarship has documented a substantial body of Muslim economic thought that conventional textbooks have frequently overlooked.

The purpose is not to replace a Western monopoly with a Muslim one. Knowledge has always travelled across cultures as common heritage of mankind. Muslim thinkers drew upon Islamic sources, practical experience and Greek, Persian, Roman and Indian traditions. Their works were subsequently transmitted, debated and transformed in other intellectual settings. The proper objective is to restore missing pages to a shared human history.

One of the earliest important works on public revenue was Abu Yusuf’s Kitab al-Kharaj. It did not treat taxation as a ruler’s unrestricted right to maximise extraction. Tax liability had to take account of productive capacity, conditions of the land and the taxpayer’s ability to bear the burden.

Abu Yusuf preferred proportional agricultural taxation where a fixed assessment would become oppressive in a poor harvest and unduly favourable during exceptional production. He insisted that collectors should be honest, collection economical and taxpayers treated justly. He opposed arrangements capable of turning revenue collection into tyranny and also emphasised irrigation, transportation and other infrastructure necessary for production.

This was more than tax administration. It was an early recognition that revenue depends upon institutions, incentives and the conduct of public officials. A tax may be lawful in form and oppressive in operation. The character of the collector, method of assessment and use of revenue are therefore integral to the legitimacy of taxation. Pakistan’s fiscal debate still struggles to absorb this elementary insight.

In the Land of Pure, tax laws are judged by the amounts they collect, while blocked refunds, arbitrary demands, compliance costs and damage to productive capacity are treated as secondary matters. Revenue obtained by weakening the taxpayer is celebrated as administrative success. Abu Yusuf’s approach reverses the perspective: the state must preserve the source from which sustainable revenue arises.

Al-Ghazali examined markets, exchange, specialisation, division of labour, money and the interdependence of economic activities. He explained that production of even an ordinary item required the cooperation of numerous workers performing specialised functions. His examples involving bread and needle-making appeared centuries before Adam Smith’s famous pin factory.

He also recognised that markets emerge from mutual need and voluntary exchange, while public authority remains necessary to maintain justice and prevent harmful practices. Economic development was not separated from education, security, infrastructure and public welfare. Prosperity, justice and legitimate political authority formed parts of an interdependent social order.

This understanding is richer than the artificial contest often presented between state and market. Markets require rules, trust, reliable money and protection against fraud. The state must provide these conditions without converting regulation into a mechanism for distributing arbitrary favours.

Ibn Taymiyyah similarly distinguished between price increases produced by changes in supply and demand and those caused by injustice, hoarding or monopoly. Not every increase in price justified administrative interference. Market forces had to be understood before intervention was attempted.

Intervention became necessary where concentrated power allowed monopolists to exploit the public. Ibn Taymiyyah therefore combined recognition of market mechanisms with restraint upon abuse—an approach far removed from both indiscriminate price control and unregulated private coercion.

Pakistan repeatedly swings between these extremes. Governments interfere through administered prices, selective subsidies and discretionary regulation, while tolerating cartels, protected industries and barriers to competition. The result is not a free market or an effective developmental state. It is a negotiated market in which access to authority frequently determines economic advantage.

Al-Maqrizi’s analysis of monetary debasement and inflation provides another striking antecedent. Writing in the context of monetary disorder, scarcity and maladministration, he connected the excessive issue of inferior money with rising prices, disruption of exchange and hardship for the population. Ibn Taymiyyah had also warned that circulation of currencies with different intrinsic values could drive better money out of use.

The instruments have changed. Modern states no longer depend upon metallic coins in the same manner. The underlying warning remains relevant: governments cannot conceal fiscal disorder indefinitely through manipulation of money. Inflation transfers resources without transparent legislative approval and imposes its harshest burden upon those least able to protect their savings and incomes.

The most comprehensive contribution came from Ibn Khaldun. His Muqaddimah connected taxation with state formation, political authority, incentives, production, public expenditure, urban development, elite luxury and dynastic decline.

Ibn Khaldun observed that during the earlier stages of a dynasty, moderate assessments could generate substantial revenue because economic activity remained vigorous. As ruling establishments expanded, expenditure increased and elites became accustomed to luxury, new taxes and higher rates were imposed. Productive incentives weakened, the tax base contracted and larger assessments produced smaller revenues.

Arthur Laffer expressly acknowledged this antecedent in 2004, writing: “The Laffer Curve, by the way, was not invented by me”. He immediately referred to Ibn Khaldun’s analysis of high assessments and declining revenue. Laffer also mentioned other predecessors, so historical accuracy requires us to describe Ibn Khaldun as a major antecedent rather than the sole originator of the idea.

Reducing Ibn Khaldun to the Laffer Curve would nevertheless diminish his contribution. His argument was not merely that tax cuts might increase revenue. He was describing a broader political and institutional cycle. As the ruling establishment becomes more expensive, it seeks additional revenue. As taxation becomes oppressive, incentives and production decline. As productive activity contracts, the government raises burdens further. The state eventually consumes the economic foundations upon which its authority depends.

This is Constitutional Political Economy centuries before the term was coined—not in its modern mathematical or contractual form, but in its central concern with how political institutions and incentives shape fiscal outcomes.

Pakistan’s experience gives Ibn Khaldun’s analysis disturbing contemporary relevance. The state protects privileges, expands non-developmental expenditure, borrows to meet recurring obligations and imposes additional burdens upon documented and productive sectors. Each revenue shortfall produces new withholding provisions, levies, minimum taxes and advance collections. The failure of one coercive measure becomes the justification for another.

A wider normative framework also emerges from the Islamic intellectual tradition. There is no need to reproduce or mechanically cite scriptural verses in a newspaper discussion. The underlying principles can be expressed in universal constitutional language: justice in public burdens; accountability of those exercising authority; consultation in collective decision-making; protection against arbitrary appropriation; honest measurement in exchange; fulfilment of public trusts; wider circulation of wealth; protection of vulnerable persons; and restraint upon unjust enrichment.

These principles do not offer a ready-made tax code for a modern federation. They provide standards by which fiscal institutions can be judged.

A tax cannot be defended merely because Parliament has enacted it. Its constitutional legitimacy also depends upon equality, rational classification, due process, protection of property, representative consent and use of public resources for legitimate purposes. Revenue collection divorced from these values becomes fiscal coercion.

Modern CPE, particularly the work of James Buchanan, contributes powerful analytical tools for examining the rules under which political decisions are made. Richard Abel Musgrave remains indispensable for understanding allocation, distribution and stabilisation. Douglas North explains how formal and informal institutions shape incentives and long-term performance.

Their contributions should be studied alongside, rather than instead of, Abu Yusuf, Al-Ghazali, Ibn Taymiyyah, Al-Maqrizi and Ibn Khaldun.

The West has no monopoly over reason. Muslim societies have no monopoly over justice. The common task is to recover and critically examine every intellectual tradition capable of helping humanity restrain power, promote production and organise public resources fairly. Pakistan’s tragedy is not that it lacks intellectual inheritance. It is that its rulers repeatedly invoke inherited ideals while constructing fiscal institutions that contradict them.

In the next part, we shall examine taxation, power and constitutional incentives in Pakistan, and ask whether parliamentary enactment alone can legitimise taxes designed through executive convenience, delegated legislation and unequal political bargaining.

[To be continued]

Postscript

Professor Ehtisham Ahmad has clarified that the paper discussed in Part VI was only a preliminary outline circulated for initial comments and not a final monograph. Our purpose in engaging with it was to initiate a serious and constructive debate on Pakistan’s constitutional political economy, not to question his scholarship or cause him any personal hurt. We deeply regret that our intervention was perceived otherwise and have already conveyed an unqualified apology to him for any unintended distress. We also extend our sincere wishes and prayers for the speedy recovery of his wife, who is presently unwell.

____________________________________________________________________

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 served Civil Services of Pakistan from 1984 to 1996.

Similar Posts

  • The Gen Z and Its Vision of Pakistan

    Pakistan presents a distinct demographic profile in the 21st century. According to the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics and UNFPA, 64% of the population is under the age of 30, with a median age of 20.8 years. This structure situates Pakistan within the category of youth-majority states. Consequently, an analysis of contemporary Pakistan is inseparable from an analysis of Generation Z, defined as individuals born approximately between 1997 and 2012. This cohort is not a prospective entity. It constitutes the current labor force, consumer base, and increasingly, the primary agents of cultural and economic production. The characteristics of Pakistani Gen Z can be understood through three interrelated dimensions: adaptability, initiative, and connectivity. The first dimension is adaptability coupled with digital fluency. This generation represents the first cohort in Pakistan to mature entirely within a digital ecosystem. DataReportal’s 2026 report indicates 111 million internet users and 71.1 million social media users in Pakistan, with internet penetration at 48.5%. The primary mode of access remains mobile broadband, which has effectively decentralized information and opportunity. This environment has cultivated rapid skill acquisition. The ability to learn and deploy new tools is reflected in economic outcomes. Pakistan currently ranks 4th globally in freelance earnings on platforms such as Upwork and Fiverr. Estimated annual freelance exports exceed $400 million. This phenomenon, often termed “digital remittances,” enables participation in the global economy without physical migration. The geographic implications are significant: a software developer in Peshawar, a content creator in Multan, and a designer in Lahore operate within the same digital marketplace, competing on skill rather than location. The second dimension is initiative and entrepreneurial orientation. In response to structural constraints in traditional employment, Gen Z has demonstrated a marked propensity toward self-directed economic activity. Data from the State Bank of Pakistan indicates a rising proportion of SME financing directed to individuals under 35. This is manifested in the proliferation of micro-enterprises, including e-commerce ventures, content creation channels, and home-based businesses. The underlying logic is one of experimentation and iteration: initiate at a small scale, acquire feedback, and scale operations. Importantly, this trend is not confined to metropolitan areas. Digital platforms have reduced barriers to market entry for individuals in Gilgit, Quetta, and rural Sindh, enabling access to national and international consumers. A craftswoman in interior Sindh can, through social commerce, reach buyers in Karachi and Dubai. This represents a structural shift in how economic value is created and distributed. The third dimension is connectivity and civic awareness. Pakistani Gen Z is the most interconnected generation in the nation’s history. Multilingualism is normative, with Urdu, English, and regional languages such as Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, and Balochi used fluidly. This linguistic dexterity mirrors a broader cultural orientation that is simultaneously local and global. This connectivity correlates with heightened awareness of social and global issues. During the 2022 floods, youth networks coordinated relief, fundraising, and volunteer mobilization within hours, utilizing WhatsApp, Facebook, and other platforms. The same infrastructure is used for peer-to-peer learning, dissemination of job opportunities, and advocacy around public health and education. Surveys by Gallup Pakistan and various youth organizations indicate participation rates in volunteerism among 18-30 year olds are substantially higher than in previous cohorts. Beyond present attributes, it is critical to articulate the vision of Pakistan held by this generation. Based on available survey data, academic research, and observable behavior, three core elements emerge. The first element is a vision of inclusive economic participation. Gen Z conceptualizes economic contribution beyond formal employment. The priority is productivity, skill utilization, and value creation. Key sectors of engagement include information technology, freelancing, e-commerce, EdTech, AgriTech, and creative industries. There is also a measurable increase in female participation. PBS data indicates that women constitute approximately 30% of registered freelancers, reflecting both economic necessity and changing social norms. The overarching goal is to convert Pakistan’s demographic dividend into tangible economic output. The second element is a vision of competency-based development. This cohort places primacy on skills, portfolios, and demonstrable output over credentials alone. There is growing demand for vocational training, digital literacy, artificial intelligence tools, and communication competencies. The emerging model is decentralized: one individual acquires a skill and disseminates it within their network. This peer-learning architecture has the potential to address gaps in formal education through non-formal channels. The third element is a vision of contributory citizenship. Gen Z associates nation-building with direct action. This includes environmental initiatives such as tree plantation, public health campaigns such as blood donation, and educational outreach in underserved areas. The conception of patriotism is thus operationalized. It is expressed not only through symbolic observance on 14th August, but through sustained engagement in community development. The narrative of 1947 is understood as securing independence. The narrative of 2026, from this perspective, is about deploying that independence toward institutional and social strengthening. Pakistan’s strategic advantage lies in this human capital. The generation is characterized by adaptability, enterprise, and networked awareness. The realization of this potential is contingent on the alignment of opportunities in skills development, digital infrastructure, and platforms for civic engagement. The trajectory of Pakistan will be determined in classrooms, in digital workspaces, in small enterprises, and in the aggregate of individual decisions made by over 110 million young citizens. With continued emphasis on learning, collaboration, and productive engagement, Gen Z possesses the capacity to advance national development objectives. This is their Pakistan, and the process of building it is already underway.

  • The Invisible Infrastructure of a Civil Society

    A man’s hand emerges from a moving car window on Lahore’s Ferozepur Road, opens, and lets go, garbage tumbling onto the road like something the city never asked for. He drives on, does not look back. Nearby, another man treats a red light as inconvenience, not command, and guns through it because the road, for one careless breath, looks empty, not realizing a motorcyclist is already crossing into that emptiness. Neither would call himself careless. Ask them, and they will say, with the confidence of the unexamined life, that they are decent, law-abiding citizens, and narrowly, they are not wrong. Neither has broken a law that will ever find them. What they are missing is something smaller than law and, in the end, far heavier: civic sense. Civic sense is a phrase worn smooth by overuse and rarely defined. It is not patriotism, that loud, flag-waving thing. It is not obedience, that bowed, fearful thing. It is, instead, a kind of seeing, the awareness that one’s actions ripple into rooms one will never enter: the neighbour’s wall, turned dumping ground; the footpath, swallowed by parked motorcycles, leaving the pedestrian nowhere to stand but the road; the river downstream, carrying someone else’s filth to a family that never asked for it. It is the quiet discipline of behaving as though other people exist and matter, even when no policeman stands at the corner. Pakistan is not short of laws. Karachi’s bylaws on waste disposal would look entirely respectable in any city hall in the world. Islamabad’s traffic regulations are detailed enough to please the most exacting planner. What is missing is not ink on paper but something beneath the skin: the private sense that a rule is worth keeping even when no one is watching. This is why civic sense cannot be legislated into being, however many statutes are stacked atop one another. You can fine a man for littering. You cannot fine him into loving the street he lives on. Take something as unremarkable as a queue. Anyone who has stood at a bank counter, a railway window, a hospital OPD here knows the choreography by heart: the line exists as an idea until someone decides their time outweighs everyone else’s, and it dissolves like sugar in water. This was never really about queues. It is about a deeper assumption: that public space belongs to no one in particular, and rules, somehow, are meant for other people. Multiply that across a city of ten million restless souls, and you get gridlock that swallows whole afternoons, bins overflowing like wounds left untended, and parks abandoned within a year of their own birth. There is a cost to all this, rarely counted honestly. Karachi bleeds away enormous productive hours each year to congestion worsened, not created, by drivers who treat lanes as suggestions and red lights as optional punctuation. Public health suffers when open drains and uncollected waste become nurseries for disease, an arithmetic residents of nearly every major Pakistani city have learned to expect each monsoon. None of this appears, tidy and legible, in a budget document. It appears in hospital wards, in wages lost to sick days, in a low-grade sense that public life is something to survive rather than inhabit. It would be convenient to lay the blame entirely at poverty or lack of schooling, and there is a grain of truth there; a person fighting daily to feed a family has little room left for civic virtue. But the explanation only carries so far. Plenty of well-off, well-schooled Pakistanis fling litter from car windows and treat public parks as private gardens annexed from the commons. Civic sense is not a simple function of income. It is a habit, built through repetition, example, and whatever a society quietly agrees to call normal. This is precisely where schools could do far more. Civic education in most Pakistani classrooms, where it exists at all, survives as a chapter memorized for an exam rather than a practice lived out. A child taught that littering is wrong, who watches the adults around her litter daily without flinching, will absorb the adults’ hands, not the textbook’s words. Civic sense must be modelled, not narrated: teachers who insist on a clean classroom, parents who do not fling wrappers from car windows in front of watching children, local governments that follow a complaint through to its end instead of letting it dissolve into some forgotten file. None of this demands grand reform. It demands a shift in what ordinary people find embarrassing. In cities where civic sense runs deep, a litterer feels a small, hot flush of shame, not because a fine is coming, but because it simply is not done, the way one does not spit at a wedding. That social pressure is more powerful, and far cheaper, than any enforcement machinery a government could design. Building it takes time, and begins small: a shopkeeper sweeping the pavement outside his door, a driver waiting his turn at a roundabout though no one would know if he cheated, a resident reporting a broken streetlight instead of learning to walk around the dark. Cities are not, in truth, built by planners and engineers alone. They are built street by street, choice by choice, by the accumulated decisions of the people who walk them. A country may possess the widest roads and tallest towers in the region and still feel chaotic if the people moving through them share no responsibility toward them. Civic sense is not a lesson for children, nor a slogan for a billboard. It is the invisible infrastructure, unseen and indispensable, that makes every other infrastructure actually work. The writer is serving as Director of the Institute of Humanities and Arts at Khwaja Fareed University of Engineering and Information Technology, Rahim Yar Khan, Pakistan.

  • Poetry, Power & Humanity—IV Bulleh Shah: Be…

    “The ‘I’ of Bulleh Shah represents man in his very essential capacity as a unit of creation”. —Najm Hosain Syed, Recurrent Patterns in Punjabi Poetry  Najm Hosain Syed’s reading of Bulleh Shah rescues one of Punjab’s most familiar poems from the ease of popular applause. Bullah ki jaana main kaun is commonly heard as a graceful confession that ultimate truth cannot be known. Najm sees something more demanding. Bulleh’s “I” is the elemental human being confronting the question “who?” Every answer offered by history—religion, institution, inherited status, nationality, relationship or dogma—tempts the seeker with a final identity. The poet accepts none as sufficient. His negatives are not an escape from commitment; they refuse to let any socially manufactured label exhaust the meaning of being human. This makes Bulleh Shah indispensable to our inquiry into poetry, power and humanity. Shah Hussain crossed the narrow passage between possession and freedom [Poetry, Power & Humanity—III:  Shah Hussain: Crossing the Narrow Passage of Love & Rebellion, Minute Mirror, July 21, 2026]. Bulleh Shah interrogated the walls on either side. Who constructed them? Who benefits when human beings are separated into pure and impure, believer and unbeliever, ruler and subject, high-born and low-born? His poetry exposes how identity, initially a source of belonging, can be converted into an instrument of hierarchy. اُٹھ گئے گوانڈھوں یار رَبّا ہُن کیہ کریے Uth gaye gawandhon yaar Rabba hun ki kariye The Beloved has left the neighbourhood; Lord, what am I to do now? اُٹھ چلّے ہُن رہندے ناہیں ہویا ساتھ تیار رَبّا ہُن کیہ کریے Uth chale hun rehnde nahin Hoya saath tayyar Rabba hun ki kariye He has risen and departed; the caravan stands ready, and he will remain no more. Lord, what am I to do now? ڈاڈھ کلیجے بل بل اُٹھے بھڑکے بِرہوں نار رَبّا ہُن کیہ کریے Daadh kaleje bal bal uthe Bharke birhon naar Rabba hun ki kariye The depths of my heart are aflame, kindled by the fire of separation. Lord, what am I to do now? بُلھا شاہ پیارے باجھوں رہے اُرار نہ پار رَبّا ہُن کیہ کریے Bulla Shah piyare bajhon Rahe uraar na paar Rabba hun ki kariye Without the Beloved, says Bulleh Shah, I remain stranded midstream, reaching neither shore. Lord, what am I to do now? The kafi begins with departure, though it does not end in private sorrow. The familiar neighbourhood has lost its centre; the traveller is left between shores. This is the existential moment preceding Bulleh’s interrogation of identity. Once the familiar world departs, inherited answers can no longer shelter us. “What am I to do now?” becomes the cry of every human being whose social certainties have collapsed. Bulleh Shah lived in a Punjab experiencing political dislocation, declining Mughal authority and sharpening religious and social conflict. His spiritual choice itself challenged inherited hierarchy. Born into a Syed family, he accepted Shah Inayat, traditionally identified with the Arain community, as his murshid. Knowledge and spiritual worth were thus placed above genealogy. Their relationship was not merely devotional; it denied the proposition that dignity could be inherited by one group and withheld from another. His choice of Punjabi carried similar democratic force. Persian was associated with administration and cultivated elites; Arabic commanded religious authority. Punjabi was the living speech of cultivators, artisans, women, faqirs and labouring communities. Through the kafi, philosophy ceased to be the exclusive property of courts and seminaries. It could be remembered, sung and transmitted without permission from those controlling formal knowledge. The kafi was central to Bulleh Shah’s poetic expression and to the wider Sufi traditions of Punjab and Sindh. Bulleh’s resistance becomes sharper in the following kafi, where he compares the ostentatiously pious with dogs. راتیں جاگیں کریں عبادت راتیں جاگن کُتے تیتھوں اُتے Raatin jaagein karein ibaadat Raatin jaagan kutte Taithon utte You remain awake at night in worship; dogs keep vigil too— and surpass you. بھونکنوں بند مول نہ ہندے جا روڑیں تے سُتے تیتھوں اُتے Bhonkanon band mool na honde Ja roorin te sutte Taithon utte They never cease their watchful barking, then sleep upon a refuse heap— and surpass you. خَسم اپنے دا در نہ چھڈدے بھاویں وجن جُتے تیتھوں اُتے Khasam apne da dar na chhadde Bhaven vajjan jutte Taithon utte They never abandon their Master’s door, though struck repeatedly— and surpass you. بلھے شاہ کوئی رَخت وِہاج لے نہیں تے بازی لے گئے کُتے تیتھوں اُتے Bulleh Shah koi rakht vihaaj lai Nahin te baazi lai gaye kutte Taithon utte Bulleh Shah, acquire provisions for the journey, or the dogs will carry away the prize— and surpass you. The poem reverses an established hierarchy with deliberate audacity. The dog, conventionally treated as impure, becomes the moral teacher; the visibly devout human being becomes the object of satire. Bulleh does not ridicule worship. He asks what worship is worth when it produces neither loyalty nor humility. The dog remains at its master’s threshold despite hunger, rejection and blows. The worshipper may remain awake, although ritual performed for reputation can coexist with pride, cruelty and the pursuit of power. This distinction is critical. Bulleh Shah’s target is not religion but its conversion into social capital. Piety becomes another possession—something to display, trade and employ against others. In Erich Fromm’s terms, the mode of “having” invades faith: one “has” learning, sanctity, lineage and followers. Bulleh insists upon the mode of “being”, where truth appears through conduct rather than claim. The dog’s fidelity defeats the worshipper’s performance. The same assault on borrowed identity culminates in three immortal lines: بلھیا! کی جاناں میں کون Bulleya, ki jaana main kaun? Bulleh, how can I know who I am? نہ میں مومن وچ مسیتاں نہ میں وچ کفر دیاں ریتاں Na main momin vich maseetan Na main vich kufar diyan reetan I am not confined to the believer in the mosque, nor to the rituals called unbelief. نہ میں موسیٰ، نہ فرعون Na main Moosa, na Firaun I am neither Moses nor Pharaoh. Bulleh removes the available answers one after

  • Pakistan–United States Relations: From Strategic…

    Pakistan and the United States have maintained one of the most consequential yet complex bilateral relationships in South Asia. Over more than seven decades, the relationship has witnessed periods of close strategic cooperation, moments of mutual disappointment, and repeated efforts at rebuilding trust. Today, amid shifting geopolitical realities, economic transformation, and emerging technological opportunities, both countries have a rare chance to redefine their partnership based on equality, mutual respect, and long-term shared interests rather than short-term strategic expediency. Pakistan recognized the United States soon after its independence in 1947, and diplomatic relations were formally established in 1948. During the Cold War, Pakistan emerged as an important security partner, joining U.S.-backed regional alliances such as SEATO and CENTO. The relationship deepened further during the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan in the 1980s, when both countries cooperated closely in support of the Afghan resistance. Following the end of the Cold War, however, strategic priorities diverged. The imposition of sanctions under the Pressler Amendment, differences over nuclear policy, and declining geopolitical convergence created a period of mistrust. After the tragic events of September 11, 2001, Pakistan again became a frontline partner in global counterterrorism efforts. While this cooperation produced significant security outcomes, it also imposed enormous economic, human, and social costs on Pakistan. Differences over regional security, Afghanistan, drone operations, and counterterrorism strategies periodically strained bilateral ties. Despite these fluctuations, the relationship never completely lost its strategic relevance. Both countries continued cooperation in defense, education, health, agriculture, energy, and people-to-people exchanges. Millions of Pakistani-Americans have served as an enduring bridge between the two societies, making valuable contributions to American economic, academic, technological, and public life while strengthening bilateral understanding. Recent diplomatic engagement indicates that both Islamabad and Washington recognize the need to move beyond a security-centric relationship. The visit of senior members of the U.S. Congress and American business leaders to Pakistan, alongside growing high-level diplomatic exchanges, demonstrates renewed interest in expanding cooperation across multiple sectors. Pakistan’s leadership has correctly emphasized that mature strategic partnerships are increasingly measured not by military cooperation alone but by the depth of economic, technological, and commercial engagement. Economic cooperation offers perhaps the greatest untapped potential. The United States remains Pakistan’s largest single-country export destination, while bilateral trade has continued to grow steadily. Pakistan imports American cotton, soybeans, advanced technology, and industrial equipment, while exporting textiles, apparel, surgical instruments, sporting goods, agricultural products, and information technology services. However, the current trade volume remains far below its potential. Expanding bilateral trade toward the proposed target of $20 billion over the coming years would benefit businesses, workers, and consumers in both countries. Pakistan’s improving macroeconomic stability, structural reforms, investment facilitation through the Special Investment Facilitation Council (SIFC), expanding digital economy, growing technology sector, critical minerals, renewable energy projects, and improved logistics infrastructure provide new opportunities for American investors. The recent financing support for the Reko Diq mining project demonstrates that confidence in Pakistan’s long-term economic prospects is increasing. At the same time, the relationship should not overlook cooperation in emerging sectors such as artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, higher education, climate resilience, healthcare, agricultural modernization, clean energy, semiconductor supply chains, and digital entrepreneurship. These areas represent the future of global competitiveness and can become new pillars of bilateral cooperation. Yet lasting partnerships require addressing historical shortcomings. For decades, Pakistan-U.S. relations have often been shaped by transactional calculations linked to immediate regional crises. This cyclical engagement has produced recurring trust deficits whenever strategic priorities shifted. Both sides should now avoid allowing temporary geopolitical developments to define a relationship with far broader potential. Several steps can help transform bilateral relations into a more durable partnership. First, both governments should institutionalize regular strategic dialogue covering trade, investment, technology, education, climate, and regional security. Second, expanding private-sector investment should become a central objective alongside government-to-government cooperation. Third, greater parliamentary exchanges, academic collaboration, and cultural diplomacy can reduce misconceptions and strengthen public understanding. Fourth, both countries should respect each other’s sovereignty, security concerns, and national priorities while managing differences through sustained dialogue. Finally, cooperation should increasingly be guided by equality, transparency, reciprocity, and mutual benefit rather than dependency or short-term geopolitical calculations. The Pakistan-United States relationship has survived changing global orders because it rests on shared interests that extend beyond any single issue or region. In today’s interconnected world, economic resilience, technological innovation, and regional stability require partnerships built on trust and consistency. By embracing a forward-looking agenda centered on trade, investment, innovation, and people-to-people ties, Islamabad and Washington can transform a relationship shaped by history into one driven by shared opportunity. The future of Pakistan-U.S. relations need not be defined by the ups and downs of the past. It can instead become a model of pragmatic cooperation—one based on sincerity, equality, mutual respect, and a common commitment to peace, stability, and shared prosperity.  Author: Prof. Engr. Zamir Ahmed Awan,  Sinologist – Diplomat – Advisor – Consultant, Founding Chair, Global Silk Route research Alliance.

  • Our elders deserve better than mockery

    I have been watching this whole Syed Muhammad Ahmed and Fahad Sheikh episode play out for days now. Something about it will not leave my mind. Not the scandal part. Not the apology part. The part where an older actor finally said, enough, someone is treating me poorly, and I am not going to stay quiet about it. That takes courage. Most people in his position and age would have swallowed the insult and moved on. He did not. He described how a younger colleague poked fun at his baldness, his height, his years in the profession, things that make him who he is. And when a federal minister stepped in and suggested a mentorship program so senior actors could guide the younger lot, I found myself nodding along. What a simple, decent idea. But here is what really struck me. This same disease, and I do mean disease, is eating away at another profession I know far better than showbiz. I mean journalism. I do not say this lightly. Every other day, I watch our own colleagues, people who work in the same profession as me, make fun of our elder journalists. Senior reporters who spent decades building this field, who broke stories when there was no social media to amplify them, who trained half the newsroom without ever asking for credit, these people now get mocked online. If a television channel calls someone a senior journalist, a certain crowd pounces immediately. They roll their eyes. They make jokes. They act as if age and experience are things to be embarrassed about, rather than things to be respected. I want to be fair here. Every journalist has the right to hold an ideology. I believe that with my whole heart. Disagreement is healthy. A newsroom full of people who think alike produces boring, lazy journalism. I have no complaint against anyone who looks at the news differently than I do. My complaint is about the tools some young journalists use to express that disagreement. Instead of writing a thoughtful counterargument, instead of picking apart an idea with facts and logic, they reach for personal insults. They mock a senior’s age. They mock his voice, his mannerisms, his old fashioned turns of phrase. This is not disagreement. This is low intellect wearing the mask of wit. I have seen young reporters who cannot form three coherent sentences about a policy issue, yet they can produce an entire thread mocking a veteran’s appearance within minutes. That imbalance tells you everything. When you lack the words to counter an argument, you attack the person instead. It is the oldest trick in the book, and it is a lazy one. Bushra Ansari said something in this whole controversy that stuck with me too. She said mistakes happen, tongues slip, and when someone apologises, we should accept it and move forward. I agree with her, mostly. Forgiveness matters. Nobody should lose their career over a single lapse in judgment. But forgiveness for a mistake is different from tolerating a pattern. If the mockery becomes routine, if senior professionals become an easy punchline every single week, then something in our culture needs fixing, not just the individual joke. I keep thinking about Syed Muhammad Ahmed’s words. He said he stayed quiet before because he knew a phone camera could turn any reaction into a headline. That fear alone tells you how normal this kind of disrespect has become. He finally spoke, and people listened. Good. I hope people in newsrooms find their own version of that moment soon. I hope young reporters learn to challenge ideas without demeaning the people who hold them. Our senior colleagues gave this profession its backbone. The least we owe them is an argument built on reason, not ridicule.

  • Riyadh’s Strategic Triangle: Security, Stabi…

    The visit of Pakistan’s Prime Minister and Chief of Defence Staff to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia on 6–7 August 2026 was officially presented as a meeting with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS), accompanied by the performance of religious rituals in Islam’s holy cities. Yet, diplomacy is often conducted between the lines rather than in official communiqués. French newspapers, Indian news agencies, and Israeli media all reported that Pakistan, Türkiye, and Saudi Arabia were working toward a defence agreement expected to be signed on Friday. While no official confirmation has emerged, the reports have generated an important strategic debate. If such an agreement is indeed under discussion, what is its real agenda? Would it amount to a military alliance, and if so, against whom would it operate? More fundamentally, why would Pakistan and Türkiye, both facing considerable economic pressures, seek to enter such an arrangement? Or are we witnessing the gradual birth of a new regional security architecture in the vacuum created by the declining American military footprint in the Middle East, with Pakistan assuming an anchoring role?   The first narrative comes from Pakistan. Political analyst Parveen Sawamy argues that Pakistan is gradually emerging as the principal anchor of a broader Muslim strategic framework. According to this view, Islamabad has evolved from being merely a facilitator of dialogue to becoming a mediator and now potentially a guarantor of regional security. Among the members of the OIC, Pakistan enjoys a unique diplomatic position. It maintains working relations with almost every important regional actor, consistently supports the Palestinian cause, and remains outside the circle of states that have normalized relations with Israel. This balanced diplomacy provides Islamabad with credibility across the Muslim world.   Pakistan also possesses one of the most experienced armed forces in the Islamic world, capable of contributing to Gulf security should regional circumstances demand it. At the same time, Washington may not necessarily oppose such a role, particularly given the perception that General Asim Munir enjoys constructive relations with the Trump administration. Pakistan’s geographic proximity to Iran further strengthens its credentials, allowing it to maintain channels of communication with Tehran while preserving strategic partnerships with Gulf monarchies. If Islamabad succeeds in converting this diplomatic leverage into economic opportunity, a defence understanding with Riyadh and Ankara could mark the beginning of a new Muslim security framework based on deterrence, mediation, and regional peace rather than confrontation.   The second narrative revolves around Türkiye. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, despite facing domestic economic challenges, brings decades of NATO experience, an advanced defence industry, and diplomatic flexibility. Türkiye remains a NATO member, maintains dialogue with the United States, preserves working relations with Israel, and simultaneously engages actively with Asian and Muslim nations. Such strategic diversity enables Ankara to serve as a bridge between competing geopolitical camps.   From Türkiye’s perspective, participation in a trilateral framework would capitalize on its military technology and defence manufacturing capabilities while expanding economic cooperation with Pakistan and Saudi Arabia. Ankara also offers valuable diplomatic experience and could serve as a neutral venue for negotiations during future regional crises. If such cooperation enjoys quiet support from Washington, Türkiye would strengthen both its strategic autonomy and its influence across the Muslim world.   The third and perhaps most decisive narrative belongs to Saudi Arabia. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) seeks durable security guarantees to preserve investor confidence in Vision 2030 and mega-projects such as NEOM. Economic transformation cannot succeed without regional stability. Recent conflicts have exposed the vulnerability of Gulf infrastructure to missile and drone attacks, prompting Riyadh to reassess its long-term security strategy. MBS increasingly recognizes that American military bases alone cannot guarantee the Kingdom’s security in an era of rapidly changing regional dynamics.   Pakistan and Türkiye therefore emerge as relatively affordable yet credible strategic partners. Saudi energy sustains both economies, while Islamabad and Ankara can provide military expertise, training, and strategic reassurance. More importantly, MBS appears less interested in confronting Iran through perpetual military rivalry than in managing competition through diplomacy backed by credible deterrence. If this approach succeeds, it could reduce regional tensions while safeguarding Saudi Arabia’s ambitious economic transformation.   Whether the reported defence agreement materializes or remains diplomatic speculation, the convergence of Pakistan, Türkiye, and Saudi Arabia reflects an important geopolitical trend. All three states require economic stability, strategic autonomy, and a more reliable regional security framework. Their interests intersect around the need to protect trade, investment, energy infrastructure, and political stability. If this strategic triangle evolves into a formal partnership, its true success will not be measured by the strength of its military capabilities but by its ability to prevent conflict, encourage dialogue, and foster prosperity. In a region long defined by rivalry, the most enduring alliance may ultimately be the one built not for war, but for peace.

Leave a Reply

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