Opinion

Today, the world faces unprecedented challenges, including the spread of unbridled unilateralism, the weakening of the fundamental principles of the United Nations Charter, the illegal recourse to force, the imposition of unilateral and indiscriminate sanctions, and the instrumental use of economic and financial mechanisms to exert political pressure. Members of the international system, particularly states as its primary actors, must defend multilateralism, respect for national sovereignty, sovereign equality of states, and the rule of law in international relations. Since June 2025, the nation of the Islamic Republic of Iran has experienced its bitterest days. The martyrdom of the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Revolution—as the highest political and religious authority of the Islamic Republic of Iran—the tragic attack on the Minab school resulting in the martyrdom of 168 school children, the testing of America’s latest lethal weapons and cluster missiles in the attack on the city of Lamerd in Fars Province and the indiscriminate assassination of its defenseless people, along with attacks on medical and healthcare facilities, educational environments, and universities, and the continuation of these crimes demonstrate that when a superpower turns rogue, international peace and security are put at risk. By imposing war, the U.S. government has driven several rounds of negotiations with Iran into a deadlock. The mediatory efforts of Pakistan to restore peace and tranquility to the region are commendable, and Iran has respected this vital role. It is crystal clear that wars are always initiated by one side, but ending them requires the presence and role of both warring parties. If the Americans, who imposed this war, desire to end it, they must respect the Pakistan Memorandum of Understanding and stop trying to impose peace on Iran through their own self-authored rules. However, it appears the United States seeks to dictate its demands upon Iran, whether through war or through peace. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. The Americans want everything at once and afford no standing to the opposing side. The blatant violation of the terms of the Pakistan MoU, continued attacks on transportation infrastructure, drinking water facilities, fishing boats, local commercial vessels, meteorological centers, and other civilian infrastructure are clear instances of violations of international law and international humanitarian law, as well as a stark example of the ongoing policy of resort to force and disregard for international obligations. The Islamic Republic of Iran underscores its firm resolve to defend its sovereignty, independence, and territorial integrity. The U.S. government is an untrustworthy and law-defying regime that does not adhere to international rules, regulations, and agreements. For this reason, many political analysts believe that U.S. conduct regarding West Asian regional issues poses a threat to the stability of the international community. What Trump has been asserting since last year regarding a U.S. victory and the defeat of Iranian military forces is merely a strategic mirage; continuing Trump’s self-destructive policies will pull America into a deep quagmire, demonstrating that they lack a proper understanding and perception of Iran’s history and its people. Direct U.S. intervention in the implementation of security and maritime arrangements in the Strait of Hormuz, alongside the re-imposition of a naval blockade, has once again endangered the security of one of the world’s most strategic waterways and disrupted the normal flow of international commercial shipping. The principled policy of the Islamic Republic of Iran has always been grounded in dialogue, diplomacy, good-neighborliness, and regional cooperation. We firmly believe that lasting peace will only be realized when aggression, occupation, threats, and double standards give way to mutual respect, the impartial execution of international law, and genuine commitment to international obligations. Although the Islamabad Memorandum of Understanding was signed by the presidents of both Iran and the United States, neighboring and regional countries—especially the Arab states of the southern Persian Gulf, acting as “Middle Eastern allies” of the U.S. government—are required under Articles 1 and 2 of this agreement to cooperate toward an immediate and permanent end to the war and the establishment and maintenance of peace. These countries must not forget that their territories were used to commit aggression against the Islamic Republic of Iran, and that such acts of aggression persist. Whether the territory of these nations was placed at the disposal of the United States, or the United States exploited their territory against Iran without their consent, makes no difference, as ultimately their facilities and capabilities were utilized against us. Consequently, these states form part of the war front against Iran, and they too must remain faithful to the Pakistan MoU. Brad Cooper, Commander of United States Central Command (CENTCOM), explicitly announced the involvement of several Persian Gulf Cooperation Council (PGCC) member states and Jordan in the United States’ military aggression against Iran. If this claim is merely a falsehood, these countries must officially and transparently refute it. The pervasive insecurity and raging fires across the region are the exclusive byproduct of continuous aggression against Iran, and regrettably, the territory of certain states serves these destabilizing actions. The Islamic Republic of Iran reserves its inherent right to self-defense to protect itself. We hope our neighboring countries reach a common understanding that the actions taken by Iran do not stem from hostility toward regional nations. We all believe that we are neighbors and will remain neighbors. Iran has repeatedly emphasized the logic of a “Strong Region,” believing that the entire region must become powerful—a region capable of resolving its own issues and challenges without relying on foreign forces, which are themselves the source of instability and insecurity. This region is a shared home; its security belongs to all its nations, and everyone must endeavor to create and maintain peace, security, and prosperity.

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

When the highest echelons of a state pronounce that the apparatus of governance has completely collapsed, it ceases to be merely the remark of a federal minister. Instead, it becomes a stark, involuntary confession of the internal decay inherent in a post-colonial state structure—a testament that indelibly seals the collective and systemic failure of the ruling class. To any conscious citizen, political worker, or student of history, this acknowledgment contains little novelty; the populace has long been ground to dust by the gears of this obsolete machinery, experiencing its failure as an everyday reality. The true astonishment lies in hearing this unvarnished truth uttered from the very center of power. One is compelled to ask: what intellectual evolution prompts the masters of the state to confess to their own institutional bankruptcy? Is this an enlightened realization paving the way for genuine reform, or is it merely the prelude to a new political experiment—a fresh authoritarian corset designed to tighten the controls of a shifting state arrangement? History stands as a grim witness that whenever the crisis of the state is magnified by its custodians, the ultimate objective is invariably to sabotage constitutional continuity and clear the path for elite capture or adventurous political engineering. Time and again, this tragedy has been inflicted upon the nation’s destiny. The nation has repeatedly witnessed the rise of self-proclaimed saviors who concentrated all fountainheads of power within their own persons, only to leave behind a hollow illusion of stability that dissolved like a house of sand upon their departure, plunging the country into irreparable geographic, economic, and political trauma. Today, ominous signals point toward the resurrection of this very same discredited formula. The echoes of a renewed stranglehold and a controlled democracy emanating from the rhetoric of the interior ministry betray an elite class fundamentally terrified of true popular sovereignty and constitutional supremacy. For the past seventy years, this nation has been systematically denied a genuine democratic evolution because dominant power centers have persistently sought to subordinate all state organs to their exclusive writ. To dismiss this systemic trauma merely as a functional glitch in administration is to indulge in a deliberate evasion of reality. The truth is that this is not the collapse of a mere administrative mechanism, but rather the manifestation of Hamza Alavi’s classic thesis of the over-developed state—a persistent structural crisis dominated by entrenched elite capture. Within this post-colonial framework, the coercive control mechanisms of the British Raj have been preserved intact, where the primary objective of the state remains the extraction of resources and the concentration of power rather than public welfare. When political expression is stifled, electoral outcomes are systematically engineered, and parliament is reduced to a rubber stamp, the resulting paralysis is entirely inevitable. The crisis of governance is, at its core, a profound crisis of legitimacy. No administrative superstructure can endure without the genuine, uncoerced mandate of the people. When state policy-makers declare that the system has collapsed, they are essentially confessing to their own fiscal insolvency and administrative bankruptcy. Yet, the tragedy of this confession lies in its utility: rather than diagnosing the foundational causes, they weaponize this failure as a pretext to tighten their grip on power. History teaches us that whenever economic or administrative pressures mount, the centers of power invariably bypass the spirit of the constitution to erode it further. The dangerous concentration of authority in a few hands, the freefall of economic indicators, and the formulation of policies under the duress of international financial institutions—all while excluding the citizenry from meaningful participation—constitute the real malignancy eating away at the state. Democracy is far more than casting a ballot once every few years; it is an active architecture built on inclusive policymaking, freedom of expression, the rule of law, and the uncompromising protection of fundamental human rights. When these values are systematically strangled, the collapse of governance is not an accident, but a natural law. The priorities of the ruling elite have never accommodated the welfare of the common citizen. State resources are routinely sacrificed at the altar of corporate privileges, elite exemptions, and inflated administrative expenditures, while foundational human rights—education, health, and justice—are systematically withheld from the masses. History offers a relentless warning: states are not experimental laboratories where arbitrary political models can be tested on a whim. From Ayub Khan’s Basic Democracies to Zia-ul-Haq’s Majlis-e-Shoora, and Pervez Musharraf’s devolution experiments, every single top-down engineering project ended exclusively in national fragmentation and internal turmoil. Each time, a new savior arrives claiming to smash the system, only to leave the country deeper in the mire before exiting the stage. Should the interior minister’s declaration be used this time to midwife yet another hybrid experiment or authoritarian arrangement, it will prove fatal to the nation’s remaining political existence. Escaping this vicious cycle of institutional decay demands moving beyond raw emotion and tired conspiracy theories to embrace a rigorous, actionable roadmap for structural reform that must unfold with absolute urgency. First and foremost, political will must be harnessed to draft a comprehensive framework of constitutional and legal reforms that restores parliament to its rightful position of supremacy, ensuring that executive interference in legislation is thoroughly eliminated and parliamentary committees are empowered to reflect genuine public representation. In tandem with this, a revolutionary structural overhaul of the civil and military bureaucracies remains non-negotiable, requiring the archaic and paternalistic colonial-era administrative model to be dismantled and replaced with a modern public service framework rooted entirely in direct public accountability. Furthermore, fiscal autonomy and equitable resource distribution must be granted to the federal units as an imperative measure, systematically redirecting national wealth away from elite extravagance toward foundational public infrastructure, education, and healthcare for the marginalized segments of society. Finally, the judicial system must be thoroughly reformed to guarantee the common citizen swift and affordable access to justice, effectively resolving systemic contradictions through transparent legal recourse rather than arbitrary administrative fiat. The federal interior minister’s warning that the system has collapsed must therefore serve as an

There is a common perception among experts that a new world order usually emerges after a world war or a major geopolitical event. Wars are caused by the irrational behavior of existing powers, illegal resource capture, and opposition to rising powers. These factors make the peaceful transition difficult. Thucydides’ Trap further explains the phenomenon. In modern history, World War I and World War II are often quoted as examples.   World War I began after Germany’s exponential growth and emergence as a new economic and global power. Germany’s efforts to enhance its influence further complicated the situation for existing powers such as the British Empire. It threatened them, and they started to conspire against Germany, especially after the launch of the Berlin-Baghdad railway line. The Berlin-Baghdad railway was considered a game-changing initiative for Europe and the Middle East. The British Empire negated it and built alliances with France; Russia, and later on, the USA helped them. World War II is considered a byproduct of the 1930s economic recession, Germany’s reemergence, Britain’s declining power, and the USA’s emergence as a new economic and global powerhouse.   World War I resulted in the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and Germany. It laid the first stone of the new empire, the USA. President Wilson tried to build on the fallen Empires and create a new world order through the League of Nations, but it could not sustain itself and ended with World War II. World War II ended with the collapse of Germany and the end of the two empires, the UK and Japan. After World War II, the USA emerged as a global empire and began crafting a new world order. Fortunately, it had the support of the USSR and China, which helped it create a new world order. However, after building a new world order, the USA turned against the USSR, and China laid the foundation of the Cold War Era.   The new system was built to continue the exploitation, but with new tools and strategies. With the end of World War II and the rise of freedom movements, the Western powers realized that the age of occupation and colonization had passed. It is not possible to enslave people physically. Thus, they pondered what new ways of controlling people should be. They identified the economy as a leading tool. Hence, they began devising tools to control the global economy. In the beginning, they leveraged the West’s production capacity to dominate the global economy. With the advent of globalization, they introduced tools to control supply chains and dominate markets by exerting absolute control over intellectual property rights, market rulemaking, and non-tariff barriers such as human rights, democracy, and the environment.  It led to the weaponization of the economy.   Simultaneously, they initiated the process to strengthen control over the financial system. The Bretton Woods institutions helped the USA and the West to dominate the global financial system. The US$ further consolidated its dominance as the leading global currency of global trade and reserves. Unfortunately, they also weaponized the global financial system.   However, with the dawn of the 21st century, they started to realize that new economic, technological, and trade powerhouses are emerging. These will challenge their dominance and exploitation. The rapid development and trade progress of the Global South further deepened their fears. China’s advances in technology and innovation made them worry about their future. However, China’s emergence as an alternative economic, trade, and technological power, challenging Western dominance in these areas, antagonized them.  After the launch of global initiatives such as GDI, GSI, BRI, GCI, GGI, AIIB, CIIE, and CIFTIS, among others, the West took off its gloves and began openly opposing China.   The West is opposing China, especially its BRI and technological aspects, just like the British and other powers opposed Germany’s rise and the Berlin-Baghdad railway line just before World War I. Therefore, many experts believe that the world is living under the threat of a looming third world war.   However, another school of thought claims the world is already in World War III, with different parameters. This time the battlefield would be trade, technology, and financial systems, as mentioned by an expert from Russia, Ms. Daria Para.   According to this theory, the world is already at war. President Trump has already intensified the trade war. He is using it as a tool to extract maximum benefit and consolidate the USA’s dominance over the global economic system. The USA is also not allowing any country to surpass it in the field of technology. First, in the late 90s and early 2000s, it compelled Japan to give up its dream of technological leadership. Now, the USA is doing everything to undermine Chinese advancements. It is sanctioning Chinese companies and compelling other nations to cut or restrict relations with China. Even the USA is creating challenges for Chinese students, as it considers them essential to technological development. Hence, admissions have dropped significantly. The USA has also weaponized the financial sector and is using it to penalize countries.   The war in these areas is deeply impacting humanity. It is aggravating inequality, food insecurity, and human suffering. This time, people are dying of malnutrition, unsafe water, poverty, and lack of opportunities for livelihoods, not with bullets or bombs. It is more painful and leaves lasting impacts on those who survive. Unfortunately, the war is intensifying in these fields. It is feared that soon it will lead to a hot war. First glimpses are already visible from the Iran-USA conflict, Russia-Ukraine conflict, regime change in Venezuela, blockade of Cuba, and conflicts in many other countries.   However, China and the Global South are still making every effort to avoid a third world war and create a new world order through reforms. The demand for reforms is rational and genuine, as due to flaws and inefficiencies of the existing order, inequality and poverty are on the rise and the world is facing the existential threat of climate change.

As the fourth week of the US–Israel military campaign against Iran unfolded in March 2026, a major geopolitical shift reshaped South Asia and the Middle East. For years, India’s rise under Narendra Modi had dominated regional diplomacy while Pakistan faced marginalization and economic struggles. However, the outbreak of war in West Asia created an opportunity for Pakistan to leverage its geography and relationships to regain global relevance. Within weeks, Pakistan mounted a proactive and unified diplomatic effort led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and military chief Field Marshal Asim Munir, reversing its isolation and, according to observers, redirecting diplomatic pressure toward India. This “peace offensive” highlighted Pakistan’s strategic agility and exposed perceived weaknesses in India’s foreign policy, marking a striking turnaround in regional influence. This resurgence began after the US and Israel launched their offensive against Iran on February 28, 2026, forcing countries into difficult alignments. Pakistan instead positioned itself as a neutral stabilizer, maintaining ties with both the United States and Iran while emphasizing its stake in de-escalation due to its shared border with Iran. A rare civil-military unity drove this strategy: Sharif engaged the Muslim world and framed mediation as a moral duty, including direct outreach to Iran’s president, while Munir used high-level connections in Washington to open backchannel communications. His rapport with US leadership enabled message exchanges between American and Iranian officials, helping establish a temporary de-escalation and cementing Pakistan’s role as a key diplomatic intermediary. The effectiveness of this two-pronged approach became evident when President Trump announced a conditional pause on plans to “obliterate” Iranian energy infrastructure. In his announcement on the Truth Social platform, Trump cited “VERY GOOD AND PRODUCTIVE” conversations, a tacit acknowledgment of the behind-the-scenes efforts being made by Pakistan. Building on this momentum, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif made a formal, public offer on March 24, 2026, stating that Pakistan “stands ready and honoured to be the host to facilitate meaningful and conclusive talks” between the United States and Iran. In an extraordinary diplomatic signal that underscored the shift in Washington’s attitude toward Islamabad, President Trump reposted Sharif’s offer on his Truth Social account. This repost was widely interpreted by analysts and officials in Islamabad as Washington’s de facto endorsement of Pakistan’s emerging role as a credible and neutral mediator, capable of hosting what would be a historic breakthrough in one of the world’s most volatile conflicts. While the White House cautioned that such talks remained speculative, the very fact that Pakistan was being discussed as a potential venue—and that its leadership was publicly coordinating with Turkey and Egypt to secure a fragile pause in hostilities—represented a monumental diplomatic victory for a nation that had spent years trying to shake off its image as an international pariah. The strategic ramifications of Pakistan’s diplomatic surge extend far beyond the immediate conflict in West Asia, striking directly at the heart of India’s long-standing foreign policy objectives under Prime Minister Modi. For years, a central pillar of India’s global strategy was the policy of isolating Pakistan, portraying it as a sponsor of terrorism and an unstable, economically faltering state. By deepening India’s strategic partnerships with Western powers, including the United States, Israel, and the Gulf monarchies, New Delhi sought to limit Islamabad’s diplomatic space and marginalize its influence on the world stage. However, Pakistan’s performance as the lead mediator in the US-Iran conflict has fundamentally challenged this narrative. By demonstrating that it possesses “strategic synergy” and can act as a “responsible nuclear power” and a stabilizing force, Pakistan has proven itself to be an “indispensable actor” in a crisis where a larger power like India cannot provide the same utility. This development has been described by scholars like Vali Nasr as a calculated and highly effective move to prove that Pakistan is more than a “problem child,” capable of “walking the talk” on global peace. This reversal has been so stark that it has prompted open criticism of the Modi government from within India itself. Congress leader Jairam Ramesh, a prominent voice in the Indian opposition, issued a series of scathing statements on March 24, 2026, acknowledging that Pakistan’s diplomatic engagement and narrative management had been “markedly superior to that of the Modi Govt”. Ramesh went further, stating that the international media reports identifying Pakistan as a potential intermediary represented a “severe setback and rebuff to India”. He directly attributed this disadvantage to the “self-styled Vishwaguru” (world leader) foreign policy of Prime Minister Modi, arguing that despite India’s military successes, its diplomatic space in the region had shrunk over the previous year. A key point of criticism was Modi’s “ill-advised” visit to Israel just days before the US-Israel strikes on Iran, a move that Ramesh and other analysts argued fatally compromised any claim India might have had to neutrality in the conflict. In contrast, Pakistan, despite being a close US ally, was able to maintain a balanced posture, leveraging its ties with both Washington and Tehran to become the preferred interlocutor. The once-celebrated “hug diplomacy” of Prime Minister Modi, which sought to build deep personal relationships with global leaders, was now being characterized by critics as “brutally exposed,” unable to compete with the practical, geostrategic value that Pakistan was able to offer in a moment of acute crisis. The architect of Pakistan’s success in securing such favorable access to the US administration is widely acknowledged to be Field Marshal Asim Munir, whose efforts to rebuild ties with Washington began long before the war with Iran erupted. Throughout 2025, Munir engaged in a methodical campaign to reverse the diplomatic isolation that Pakistan experienced during the Biden administration. A pivotal moment came when Pakistan nominated President Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, citing his role in de-escalating tensions between India and Pakistan. This shrewd move, which played to Trump’s well-known desire for the prestigious award, was rewarded with an invitation for Munir to a one-on-one White House lunch—a privilege rarely granted to a foreign military leader who was not also a head of state. Furthermore, Pakistan aligned

In early April the grain stood stacked by the roadside in Sahiwal, DG Khan and Bahawalnagar, harvested and bagged, waiting for a buyer the system had promised but never delivered. Three months later the buyer arrived. Not the state purchasing from Pakistani farmers, but the state purchasing from foreign suppliers, paying in scarce dollars. Pakistan’s 2025-26 wheat production is estimated at 29.31 million tonnes against consumption of roughly 31.9 million. The gap is real. This import, however, is not the product of a harvest failure. It is the product of a procurement failure. The wheat existed. What did not exist was the institutional will to buy it at a price that reflected its value while it was still in the farmer’s hands. Private intermediaries bought at Rs 2,900-3,200 per 40 kilograms from farmers who had loans falling due and no storage. Those intermediaries held the grain and watched the open-market price climb to Rs 4,600 by July. The middleman’s profit was the farmer’s loss. The state, having refused to spend rupees in April, must now spend dollars in August. The invoice, compiled from months of evasion, comes due all at once. The cycle was predictable. After the 2022 floods the administrative reflex became “import.” In 2023-24 the country allowed large duty-free private imports into a market already carrying record stocks. That was 3.44 million tonnes at a cost of $1.005 billion. In 2024 and 2025 the Minimum Support Price was first ignored and then abolished under IMF conditionality linked to a $7.1 billion Extended Fund Facility. This happened years ahead of the phased timeline the Fund had allowed until FY2026. In October 2025 the government reversed course and restored the price, but the supporting machinery never materialised. In January 2026 the aggregator model collapsed. Punjab set a procurement target of three million tonnes, but by late May, with partial procurement continuing into June, total procurement fell far short of the target. Three seasons, three frameworks, one recurring failure: the system arrives after the price has already been set. The old procurement system was deeply flawed. It captured only about a quarter of production and skewed toward large landholders and politically influential actors. According to a Competition Commission of Pakistan analysis, the top 40 per cent of farmers in Punjab sold 84 per cent of their wheat to official buyers, while the bottom 40 per cent sold only 6.4 per cent, forced to accept below-benchmark prices from private traders. Abolishing it overnight without private storage, warehouse-receipt financing or functioning commodity exchanges did not liberate the small farmer. It exposed him to cartels he could not match. The state was weak when farmers needed a floor. It is assertive now that consumers need a ceiling. That is not food security. It is political timing. The cost will be paid in November. Punjab’s wheat acreage has already fallen sharply. It fell by roughly 5.5 per cent between 2023-24 and 2024-25, a reduction of close to a million acres, according to official crop reporting data corroborated by independent assessments. The decline has continued into 2025-26. Farmers are not abandoning wheat out of ideology. They are doing arithmetic after three years of suppressed returns, delayed buyers and policy uncertainty. Many are moving into canola and mustard. These are thinner markets with less infrastructure, no public benchmarks and highly concentrated private buyers. Unlike wheat, which benefits from a massive state-backed consumption floor and established procurement infrastructure, edible oils face different demand elasticities and lack the same strategic reserve backing. If oilseed acreage expands faster than processing capacity, the same distress-sale pattern will simply be exported to a new crop. Climate stress amplifies the risk. The 2025 floods were the worst in Punjab in four decades, and the 2026 harvest lost further volume to heat and storms. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall are no longer background noise; they are actively cutting yields. Yet the deeper threat remains institutional. A farmer who repeatedly experiences losses without protection responds rationally. He reduces acreage. He shifts crops. He exits. And once he exits, he does not return. Sovereignty does not lie only in borders or foreign reserves. It also lies in the ability to buy, store and release grain when the market fails. By that measure the import announcement is not a solution. It is the price of a failure we chose. The 2027 harvest window opens in November. Not in April when the crop arrives. Not in July when the state panics, but in November when the farmer stands in his field and decides what to plant. On that morning he will not be thinking about policy frameworks or export targets or buffer stocks. He will be thinking about what the last three seasons cost him and whether the state that failed him in April, imported in July and abandoned him after harvest has given him any reason to trust it again. That is the only question that matters now. That is the question that must be answered before he plants.

For eighteen years, I have made a quiet, sometimes lonely case: that technology, not more paperwork and more offices, is the only honest path to good governance in Pakistan. I did not arrive at this conviction from a textbook. I arrived at it from a desk inside the Planning Commission, watching a system that was designed — on paper — to deliver development, and instead delivered delay, opacity, and grievance. Anyone who has sat through the sanctioning of a Public Sector Development Program (PSDP) project knows the ritual. The feasibility study is glowing. The PC-1 is approved with confident projections. Committees nod. Funds are released. And then the project disappears into the machinery of provincial implementation, where oversight thins out and accountability evaporates. What was promised on paper and what is delivered on the ground are, more often than not, two entirely different stories. I watched this happen again and again, and each time the gap between sanction and delivery was not explained by a shortage of money or expertise. It was explained by bureaucracy — a system built not to serve citizens but to preserve itself. This is not an abstract observation. It is the root of a very real and very dangerous problem. A significant part of the unrest we see in Balochistan, in Azad Jammu and Kashmir, and in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is not simply about resources or geography. It is about the absence of transparency and the absence of governance that people can see, question, and trust. When a citizen cannot find out where a development fund went, when a project sanctioned in Islamabad never materializes as promised in a district headquarters, when the only visible authority is a bureaucrat with a stamp and a discretionary signature, resentment grows. People do not rebel against distance from the capital. They rebel against being governed by a system that treats them as subjects to be managed rather than citizens to be served. And here is the tragedy that too few are willing to name plainly: the bureaucratic architecture we still operate under was never designed to serve the governed. It was designed by the British Raj to control a colonized population — to extract revenue, maintain order, and ensure that authority always flowed downward from a distant center, never upward from the people. Files, layers of clearance, and the personal discretion of an officer were features of a colonial control system, not instruments of democratic accountability. We inherited that machinery at independence and, astonishingly, kept it largely intact. The tool built to pacify a colony has been repurposed, with barely a redesign, to govern a republic. It should trouble us deeply that a structure engineered to keep a colonized people in check is now one of the principal reasons that Pakistan’s most marginalized regions distrust their own government. So when the conversation turns, as it periodically does, to creating new administrative units — carving out new divisions, new districts, new tiers of provincial machinery — as the answer to Balochistan’s or KPK’s grievances, I feel obligated to push back, loudly. Before we draw a single new administrative boundary, we must confront the core disease, not multiply its symptoms. New units will not dilute bureaucratic power; they will replicate it. Every new administrative tier is another office, another set of discretionary signatures, another opportunity for the same colonial-era logic of gatekeeping to entrench itself further. For the aggrieved citizen in Turbat or Muzaffarabad or Bannu, a new secretariat is not relief. It is simply a new address for the same unaccountable authority. We would be handing the bureaucracy — an institution that has shown a consistent instinct for self-preservation — more territory to govern, not less power to abuse. Real relief requires shrinking the space in which discretion operates unchecked, not expanding the number of desks where it can be exercised. This is precisely why the moment for AI-enabled local governance has arrived, and why Pakistan can no longer afford to treat it as a distant aspiration. Around the world, and notably across India, urban local bodies and municipalities are moving beyond basic digitization toward what might be called algorithms of accountability — systems purpose-built to increase transparency, limit human discretion where it invites abuse, and protect citizen data. These frameworks generally rest on a few consistent pillars: ensuring that automated public decisions on things like welfare disbursement or tax assessment can be audited and challenged rather than buried in a file; protecting citizen data through clear legal safeguards; requiring any private vendor supplying government technology to disclose how its systems work; and actively checking automated tools for bias against marginalized communities. The Indian experience offers concrete, transferable lessons. Municipal bodies in cities like Delhi and Bengaluru now use satellite imagery and mapping systems to flag unauthorized construction and property tax discrepancies — but critically, they pair this with a human-verification step, so an algorithm’s flag is only ever an advisory alert, not a final punishment, creating a documented trail a citizen can actually contest. States such as Telangana and Maharashtra have deployed multilingual citizen chatbots to handle civic complaints, built with data-masking safeguards that strip personal information before it ever touches a broader system. Smart-city command centers in Surat and Pune operate under strict data retention rules, so surveillance footage is automatically deleted unless tied to an active investigation, preventing the machinery from becoming a permanent surveillance state. And where facial-recognition attendance systems have been used to track municipal staff, unions pushed successfully for dispute mechanisms so that a technical glitch never costs a worker their wages. None of these systems eliminate human judgment. What they eliminate is unaccountable, invisible, discretionary human judgment — the exact currency the colonial bureaucracy was built to trade in. That is the reform Pakistan needs at the local government level: not another administrative layer, but a transparent, auditable, citizen-facing system that makes it structurally difficult for a project to vanish between sanction and delivery, and structurally easy for a citizen in the

Regions with structural problems need structural fixes, not more funding formulas. Pakistan’s administrative map was drawn for a country that no longer exists. We have four provinces today, the same number we had 55 years ago, while East Pakistan, which used to be one province, now has eight administrative units and 64 subdivisions or districts. Since then Pakistan’s population has multiplied several times over, but the map has not moved an inch. That mismatch is the primary reason why resources never reach the people who need them. Pakistan’s approach when it comes to managing resources is wrong for a country this size. The population crossed 241 million in 2023, with density around 260 people per square kilometre. On its own, this is a sign of a healthy, growing country, just until we look at how that population is actually distributed. In the last six years alone, the country has added roughly 35 million people, which is a 16 percent increase. Sixty-one percent of that population lives in rural areas, 39 percent in cities like Islamabad, Lahore and Karachi. The alarmingly undeniable fact is that the trend keeps moving one direction, in which young people keep leaving villages for urban areas because those are the only places where jobs, universities and hospitals reliably exist. This migration is certainly not a lifestyle choice. This is bound to happen when four provincial governments are asked to administer a population that is five times larger than the one they were built for. Punjab alone holds 59 percent of the country’s population. It is administered as a single unit, but its population is more than most countries on earth. No provincial government, no matter however competent it is, can deliver electricity, healthcare and education evenly across a population that size from a single provincial capital. The same problem exists in reverse in Balochistan, which covers 48 percent of Pakistan’s landmass but accommodates only 11 to 12 percent of the population, and has absorbed six of the last six years’ 16 points of national population growth despite having the country’s thinnest infrastructure. These two provinces tell the story of two completely different failures. The cause, however, is common: the administrative unit is the wrong size for the job. The numbers underneath this are national rather than regional. Eighty-two percent of Pakistanis have electricity, but that average hides the gap between urban grids and rural darkness; hence urbanisation. The list of problems does not stop here. Take Balochistan, where one doctor serves 10,000 to 10,500 people. Sixty percent of the province lacks clean water, and filtration plants are scarcer still. Moreover, 70 percent of rural communities nationwide lack adequate education, and 44 to 45 percent of people in those communities never reach middle school. The human cost of that distance is specific and repeats itself in province after province. Young doctors trained in these regions leave for Punjab, Sindh and Islamabad. The biggest reason is safety, since their lives can be at risk in remote postings. The second is that a health facility 30 kilometres from the nearest paved road, unable to stock full equipment, offers nothing to build a career on. Vocational training institutes exist in these areas but sit locked, not for lack of funding but because there is no administrative capacity to operate them. These are not Balochistan’s problems alone. They can happen anywhere a provincial government is too large, too centralised, or too distant to reach its own population. Balochistan simply shows the extreme case. If it were split into three or four provinces, governments could actually reach people there. Then there is this issue of financial distribution, and this is where the case for new provinces stops being administrative and becomes constitutional. Pakistan’s own constitution ties resource revenue to the province that produces it. Sindh generates around 70 percent of national revenue and receives back only 24 to 25 percent. Similarly, Balochistan sits on gas fields and mineral wealth that fund the federation, while its own communities remain unconnected to piped gas or reliable power. Calling this a technical funding gap would be wrong because the problem is structural. Provinces too large to manage internally are also too large to track what they are owed, let alone claim it. Regions with structural problems need structural fixes, which again brings us to the dire need for carving out more provinces instead of introducing more funding formulas layered onto the same four units. How many provinces should there be is debatable. There are four now, and making that six or eight is better than staying at four. That would certainly put administration close enough to reach a village 30 kilometres off the highway, and close enough that Punjab’s 59 percent isn’t governed as a single bloc or Balochistan’s 48 percent of the map isn’t governed as an afterthought. Balochistan’s neglect, Punjab’s congestion, Sindh’s revenue grievance, the pressure on Karachi and Lahore are not four different crises but one. And this crisis will not be solved by anyone currently governing under the old map.

In a world driven by technology, only change is permanent. Change we must, but how? Transition from one system to another is perhaps the biggest challenge that we have not been able to cope with. Half-baked solutions with underage players cannot deliver. Reminds me of Einstein’s famous quote: “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” Steve Jobs, one of the greatest technologists of the 21st century, went even further by saying: “Either lead or get out of the way.” A few years back I was doing some research on universities and their impact on setting the course of nations. Syed Ahmed Khan’s Aligarh Muslim University stood out. It produced the Change Managers who not only led the freedom movement but also had the capacity to sustain it. The Islamic Republic of Pakistan (IRP) desperately needs such individuals who can understand and then manage the needful. In the year 1875 he founded the MAO College (Mohammadian Anglo Oriental College) which later grew into a university in the year 1920. He passed away in 1898 but the institution grew. Later on, Allama Iqbal led the movement, and finally it was Muhammad Ali Jinnah who succeeded in carving a new homeland in August 1947 for the Muslims of the Indian Subcontinent. Unfortunately, he did not live long enough to lay the foundations of the new state, but he did leave clear guidelines for the inherited establishment to follow (Armed Forces, Bureaucracy). After taking over in October 1999, Pervez Musharraf created a think tank called the National Reconstruction Bureau (NRB). Headed by Lt. Gen. Tanvir Naqvi, it was located in the Chief Executive (CE) secretariat. The task was to design and execute political and administrative reforms in the country. I was invited to give my input. Naqvi Sb was very confident about delivering meaningful change. His main focus was on devolution of power. As a student of management, I asked him a simple question: “Who will implement his plan?” Bureaucracy, of course, was his quick reply. He did not have an answer to my second concern: “Why will they implement a plan which reduces their power?” He then decided to get rid of me by saying if I wanted to discuss implementation details, I should go to the third floor to the CE’s office. Finally, he stepped down and was replaced by a young novice who lacked the experience and clout to deliver meaningful change. Then there was another initiative called the National Commission for Human Development (NCHD), led by a pediatrician from a small town in Oregon. The worthy Dr assured the CE that he would manage funds from abroad while the local expenses were to be provided by the Government of Pakistan (GOP). Various centers were established across the country and staff recruited. While GOP provided the internal resources, the external help never came despite fundraising efforts abroad. The CE was convinced that the two sectors were well covered, but they were not. Finally, NCHD became a liability and was shut down and the staff laid off. During my term as Chairman, Pakistan Science Foundation (PSF), I lobbied for technocrats to head technical ministries, which was not well received by the powers that be. Commercialization and application of research is the biggest challenge faced by the R&D sector of the country. When I was denied an extension after the completion of my term, I paid a farewell visit to the Secretary MOST (Ministry of Science and Technology). It was a friendly meeting; the Secretary appreciated my work but complained that I did not follow his guidelines. While leaving, he pointed at the board where the names of his predecessors were written. I still remember his words: “Only our names make it here.” He did not like my spontaneous response: “Time will tell,” and it did. My lobbying prevailed; a retired Chairman of PAEC (Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission) replaced him. Though he had no commercial background, I decided to guide and support him. He recommended major investments in creating public sector entities like HMC III, run by PAEC, for meeting their equipment needs. At best, only pilot plants were viable for transfer of technology from laboratory to industry. He was unable to get the funds. As such, his term ended with no major breakthrough, and business as usual continued. Pakistan has a federal structure of governance. Federating units are diverse with differing needs. I am in favor of devolution, but the task on hand is not simple. The forces of status quo are too entrenched. Change Managers are needed at all levels. Complexities have to be understood and managed. There has to be consensus on the road map. Islamabad has an archive of failed plans. The same mistakes should not be repeated again. The first challenge is to find qualified individuals with solid re-engineering experience to lead the crusade. Einstein and Jobs were two brilliant brains of their times; we must value their outlook to move forward and avoid chaos and confusion. Oversimplification of the task at hand must be avoided.

Taxation, constitutional legitimacy & fiscal justice The previous Part VII of this series traced the contributions of Abu Yusuf, Al-Ghazali, Ibn Taymiyyah, Al-Maqrizi and Ibn Khaldun to public finance and political economy. Their works differed in purpose and historical setting, but a common normative framework emerged: justice in public burdens, accountability of authority, consultation in collective decisions, protection against arbitrary appropriation, honest exchange, responsible administration of public resources, wider circulation of wealth and protection of vulnerable citizens. These principles do not provide a ready-made tax code for a modern federation. They offer something more fundamental: standards by which taxation, expenditure and public authority may be judged. The same standards find expression in the constitutional order of Pakistan. Taxation is not legitimate merely because money is required by the state or because a provision has been inserted into a Finance Act. Parliament possesses wide legislative authority, but it is a creature of the Constitution and not its master. It cannot validly enact what the Constitution prohibits, invade a field constitutionally assigned elsewhere or destroy rights and limitations that bind every organ of the state. The proposition appears elementary. Pakistan’s fiscal practice repeatedly ignores it. Article 77 of the Constitution provides that no federal tax shall be levied except by or under the authority of an Act of Parliament. This embodies the historic principle of no taxation without representation. Revenue cannot be extracted through executive preference, administrative instruction or unstructured discretion. Legislative authority must exist. Article 77 is a necessary condition for lawful taxation, not a complete test of constitutional legitimacy. A tax enacted by Parliament must also conform to the distribution of legislative powers, equality before law, due process, protection of property and other constitutional guarantees. Parliamentary form cannot cure substantive constitutional defect. Otherwise, the requirement of constitutional supremacy would be reduced to the proposition that Parliament may do anything so long as it records the command in statutory language. Pakistan is not governed under parliamentary sovereignty in the British sense. It is governed under a written and supreme Constitution. Legislative authority is not unlimited authority The Constitution divides taxing powers between the Federation and provinces. Parliament cannot convert a provincial subject into a federal one merely by changing its label. A levy upon capital value cannot automatically become income tax because it is placed in the Income Tax Ordinance, 2001. A tax upon services cannot be extended to transactions lacking the character of a service merely because additional revenue is desired. The true nature, subject matter and effect of the levy remain decisive. This is particularly important because fiscal pressures create incentives to stretch legislative entries beyond their constitutional purpose. Governments confronting debt servicing, defence expenditure and programme targets naturally seek accessible revenue. Constitutional limitations exist precisely because necessity, convenience and expediency cannot be allowed to determine the boundaries of public power. A Constitution does not become less binding when the treasury is empty. The Supreme Court’s jurisprudence has recognised that Parliament’s taxing competence, though broad, is not without constitutional limits. In Elahi Cotton Mills, the Court accepted substantial legislative latitude in taxation, including the use of legal fictions, classifications and presumptive methods. It also made clear that the legislature cannot tax as “income” something that cannot rationally possess the character of income. The breadth of a legislative entry does not eliminate its essential subject matter.  The same discipline must govern every fiscal enactment. Equality is not arithmetical uniformity Article 25 guarantees equality before law and equal protection of law. Equality does not require every person, transaction or source of income to be taxed identically. Legislatures may classify taxpayers and activities where a real distinction exists and the classification bears a rational relationship to the purpose of the law. The power to classify cannot become a licence to privilege. Pakistan’s tax system contains numerous distinctions based upon source, status, sector, documentation and bargaining power. Salary, dividends, profit on debt, business income, contracts, imports, property income and capital gains are frequently subjected to different rates and regimes. Some differentiation may be justified by collection realities or constitutional allocation. Much of it has emerged through political accommodation rather than coherent principle. A constitutional analysis must therefore ask whether similarly situated persons are treated alike, whether distinctions correspond to genuine economic differences, and whether the burden imposed is reasonably connected with the stated objective. Higher transactional taxes upon “non-filers”, for example, are presented as instruments of documentation. Their constitutional and economic legitimacy becomes doubtful when they operate indefinitely as revenue measures without determining actual income, establishing liability or bringing the person into a genuine assessment system. A temporary incentive to file cannot become a permanent substitute for income taxation. Due process in fiscal administration Article 4 protects the right of every person to be dealt with in accordance with law. Tax administration must consequently involve more than statutory authority to demand money. Liability must be determined through fair procedures, relevant evidence, a meaningful opportunity to respond and access to independent adjudication. Automated notices, coercive recovery, attachment of accounts, blocked refunds and repeated demands without proper examination undermine this constitutional relationship. Technology does not suspend due process. Digital systems can improve matching, risk identification and transparency. They cannot transform an algorithmic suspicion into established liability. The taxpayer must know the basis of the demand, confront the material relied upon and obtain a reasoned determination from a legally competent authority. A revenue system that collects first and examines legality later converts constitutional administration into fiscal compulsion. The Supreme Court’s judgment in Mustafa Impex also reinforced the constitutional identity of executive authority. Statutory powers assigned to the Federal Government cannot automatically be exercised by an individual minister, division or official unless the constitutional and statutory framework permits it. Fiscal measures made through notifications and delegated authority must remain within the limits imposed by the parent legislation and the constitutional structure of government.  Delegation may supply machinery. It cannot create a new taxable event, enlarge the charge or transfer essential legislative choices to the executive. Property,