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A truly democratic-technocratic model for Pakistan should also address the country’s administrative structure. Pakistan is too large and administratively complex to depend on highly centralized decision-making from Islamabad and provincial capitals. A modern governance system should therefore consider the creation of new provinces or constitutionally recognized administrative units, based on population, geography, economic viability, administrative accessibility, historical and cultural considerations, and the ability to provide effective public services. This distribution must not be based on the ground of nationality. In my personal opinion, in Pakistan, there is a very emotional and stimulation mind sets found everywhere, they create prejudice mentality among the whole nation. All provinces names should be on the basis of their respective specialty of that particular area. Sindh, Punjab, Khaiber pakhtoon kha, Balochistan, these names also must be changed to other names. This will remove the nation base mentality. The objective should not be to divide Pakistan on the basis of ethnicity, language or political rivalry. Rather, administrative boundaries should be designed around governance and public welfare. Where existing provinces have become too large to administer effectively, new administrative units could bring government closer to citizens, improve resource allocation, strengthen accountability and allow regional development plans to be tailored to local needs. Here is a very common example, as if there is a school, when strength of the students increases, school starts to produce more campus, this is just because of good administration, to deliver good services, to provide better education to all students equally. So same case is in Pakistan, now the population has been reached out more than 250 million. While, at the time of 1947, the population was 70-75 million, that was combined, west and East Pakistan both, and West Pakistan comprised of only 32-33 million. Now imagine, now the population is more than 250 million and provinces are same. The population has been increases up to 681%. Imagine….! Punjab population was 20 million in 1947, now in 2026 is 127 million. Sindh population was 6 million in 1947 and now in 2026 is 56 million. Similarly KPK was 11 million in 1947 and now is 41 million, Baluchistan was 4.3 million in 1947 and now is 15 million. By these figures, more provinces or administrative units must have been developed many years ago. When we look for cities of Sindh, as the largest opposition found in Sindh against this proposal, we see, Karachi population was 1 million and in 2026 is more than 20 million, Hyderabad was 5-6 lacs, means 500 to 600 thousands, and now in 2026 is 2.4 million. Similarly Tharparker population was almost 300 thousand only, now near to 2 million, Nawabshah, currently is SBA was 500 thousand in 1947 now in 2026 is almost 2 million, Larkana was 420 thousands and now is 1.7 million, Sukkur was 340 thousand in 1947 and now is 1.6 million. If I write the whole country data then we need many pages, so these main examples are presented to elaborate that new provinces or administrative units are compulsory in the country for the betterment of Pakistan and the people of Pakistan. Now, keeping in view the concept of new provinces or new administrative units, under a Democratic Technocracy model, each administrative unit could have an elected political government supported by professional technocratic administration. Citizens would elect their representatives, while key departments would be managed by qualified professionals and career administrators. Health systems could be led by experienced health administrators and public-health professionals; education by education-policy specialists; municipal development by professional urban planners and engineers; finance by qualified public-finance specialists; and agriculture, water, energy and industry by relevant technical experts. In current system, our all ministries have, very unfortunately, absolute irrelevant Persons to run that particular area, except a very few. Now see this model, would create a three-level governance architecture: Federal Government → Provincial/Regional Governments → Empowered Local Governments At the federal level, matters such as defense, foreign affairs, currency, national economic policy and other genuinely national responsibilities would remain centralized. At the regional level, governments would concentrate on sectors such as health, education, agriculture, provincial infrastructure and regional economic development. At the local level, elected governments would become directly responsible for municipal services, sanitation, water supply, local roads, primary healthcare, local education, waste management and other services that directly affect citizens. A New Map for Better Governance Pakistan should therefore be willing to have a serious national debate about whether the present administrative map remains optimal for the country’s future. The creation of additional provinces or administrative regions should be based on objective criteria rather than political convenience. A proposed new unit should undergo an independent feasibility assessment covering: – Population and geographic size – Administrative accessibility – Economic and revenue potential – Existing infrastructure – Healthcare and education requirements – Natural resources – Urban and rural population distribution – Connectivity and transportation – Fiscal sustainability – Public opinion and consultation – Protection of minority and regional rights No new unit should be created merely because a political group demands it, nor should a legitimate administrative reform be rejected simply because existing political interests oppose it. The principle should be simple: “Administrative boundaries should serve citizens-not political elites”. A smaller and more manageable administrative structure, combined with empowered local governments and professional administration, could make it easier to identify responsibility, measure performance and deliver public services. However, creating new provinces alone will not solve Pakistan’s governance problems. A smaller province with the same inefficient institutions would simply reproduce the same problems on a smaller scale. Administrative restructuring must therefore occur simultaneously with civil-service reform, fiscal decentralization, digital governance, merit-based appointments, independent oversight and strong local governments. The ultimate objective should be to create a Pakistan in which every citizen can reach an effective government institution without travelling hundreds of kilometers to a distant provincial capital, while every level of government remains constitutionally accountable to the people. This is where administrative reform and Democratic Technocracy meet: democracy determines representation, technocracy ensures competence,

The fiscal deficit fell to just 2.6 of GDP—the lowest in 22 years—while the primary surplus reached a record 2.9%, the highest since at least FY 2000-01— tweet by Khurram Schehzad, Adviser to Federal Finance Minister The latest official numbers tell an impressive story. Pakistan closed fiscal year 2025–26 with a consolidated budget deficit of Rs. 3.313 trillion, equal to 2.6% of gross domestic product (GDP), and a primary surplus of 2.9%. They accompany a familiar boast: the Federal Board of Revenue (FBR) achieved a “record” collection of Rs. 13.010 trillion. In the post cited above, Adviser to the Federal Finance Minister, Khurram Schehzad, described the outcome as the “strongest fiscal performance in 22 years”. He highlighted three consecutive primary surpluses, the “lowest fiscal deficit in 22 years”, and the highest primary surplus in at least 26 years, debt growth at a 20-year low, and declining debt-to-GDP and interest burdens. He concluded that Pakistan was moving decisively from recurring fiscal stress towards discipline, stability and sustainable growth. The improvement is real. The conclusion is premature. The Finance Division’s newly released Fiscal Operations for July–June 2025–26 show consolidated revenue of Rs. 19.774 trillion and expenditure of Rs. 23.087 trillion. The resulting deficit is unquestionably lower than the enormous gaps of recent years. Fiscal consolidation has occurred and should be acknowledged. The claim of a 22-year low, however, does not survive the adviser’s own infographic. The chart accompanying the post places the deficit at 1.7% in 2003–04 and 2.5% in 2004–05—both below 2.6%. The contemporaneous Pakistan Economic Survey 2006–07, using the series then published, recorded 2.4% for 2003–04. Revisions may explain the discrepancy between 1.7% and 2.4%, but neither figure supports an unqualified record claim. The latest statement is also provisional. The defensible description is that 2.6% is among the lowest deficits in about two decades. More importantly, 2.6% is the consolidated deficit. The federation did not run a deficit of Rs. 3.313 trillion. Its net revenue receipts, after transfers to provinces, were Rs. 10.520 trillion, against expenditure of Rs. 15.283 trillion. The federal deficit was Rs. 4.763 trillion, or about 3.8% of GDP. It fell to the consolidated figure because the provinces produced a combined surplus of Rs. 1.450 trillion. Punjab alone contributed Rs. 914 billion. Provincial surpluses assist macroeconomic management but do not extinguish the federation’s borrowing requirement. They are intergovernmental cash offsets while the federal government remains deeply indebted. The earlier article, Bankruptcy of ideas—X: Debt, Taxes & Democracy, argues that shifting cash between tiers cannot repair a debt-driven state. An even more striking adjustment appears under “statistical discrepancy”. The detailed expenditure table reports total consolidated expenditure of Rs. 23.940 trillion. A negative statistical discrepancy of Rs. 853 billion lowers expenditure in the summary to Rs. 23.087 trillion. Without this adjustment, the gap between revenue and expenditure would be about Rs. 4.167 trillion, or approximately 3.3% of GDP. Statistical discrepancies are not unusual in provisional accounts. An adjustment equal to more than one-quarter of the celebrated deficit nevertheless demands explanation before a historic record is proclaimed. Transparency requires reconciliation of this amount when the accounts are finalised. The composition of expenditure further weakens the triumphal narrative. Mark-up payments reached Rs. 6.948 trillion—5.5% of GDP. Federal Public Sector Development Programme expenditure, excluding development grants to provinces, was only Rs. 727 billion. Interest was therefore about 9.6 times the federal development programme. A deficit can fall because investment and public services are compressed while inherited interest obligations continue dominating expenditure. That is fiscal compression, not fiscal transformation. The “record” FBR’s collection claim presents a similar illusion. With inflation and nominal GDP growth, the largest rupee collection will normally recur. The relevant questions are whether revenue rose relative to GDP, the base broadened and additional taxation reduced borrowing. FBR’s Rs. 13.010 trillion was only 10.3% of GDP. It was about Rs. 1.12 trillion below the original target of Rs. 14.13 trillion and barely exceeded the subsequently revised figure of approximately Rs. 12.983 trillion. The goalpost was moved, and arrival at the moved goalpost was described as a record. Analysis of Pakistan’s withholding-based system [Tax Proposals for Budget 2027—III: Withholdingisation: Weapon of destruction, Minute Mirror, May 25, 2026 and FBR’s Performance FY 2024-25 (Part II): Income Tax or Expropriatory Taxation, Minute Mirror, April 14, 2026] has repeatedly shown why aggregate collection cannot be equated with administrative performance. During FY 2024–25, withholding and advance collection accounted for about 96% of income tax, leaving only a small fraction attributable to returns and enforcement. Employers, banks, utilities, importers and businesses collect much of FBR’s revenue on behalf of the state. Extraction at source is not evidence that concealed income has been discovered or that privileged sectors have entered the tax net. The latest statement also exposes reliance on non-tax revenue. Federal non-tax receipts reached Rs. 5.178 trillion. These included Rs. 2.428 trillion transferred as State Bank of Pakistan surplus and Rs.1.567 trillion collected as petroleum levy. Together, the two sources provided almost Rs. 4 trillion. As explained in Bankruptcy of ideas—VII: The Petroleum (Levy) State, the petrolem levy operates as inflationary and regressive extraction. It raises transport, agricultural, industrial and household costs. It also remains outside the divisible pool, allowing the federation to retain revenue that would otherwise be shared under the National Finance Commission framework. A large central-bank transfer and an ever-rising fuel levy cannot substitute for fair, broad-based taxation. Debt servicing supplies the decisive test. Cash mark-up payments of Rs. 6.948 trillion absorbed 53.4% of FBR collection and about 66% of federal net revenue receipts. Domestic interest alone was Rs. 6.030 trillion; foreign interest was Rs. 917 billion. These figures do not include refinancing of maturing domestic principal. The financing table reports gross external financing of Rs. 3.805 trillion and external debt repayments of Rs. 2.627 trillion. Programme loans alone amounted to Rs. 2.054 trillion. The federal deficit required net financing of Rs. 4.763 trillion: Rs. 1.178 trillion externally and Rs. 3.585 trillion domestically. State Bank financing reached Rs. 3.202 trillion. These amounts

To watch Shakarparian today is to mourn a broken promise. Not a fleeting vow, but a masterplan—conceived with purpose, codified on paper, and abandoned by design. I went through archives at Bazar Road, Iqbal Hall G-7, poring over the original master plan drawn up in 1960 by the great Greek architect and city planner Konstantinos Apostolos Doxiadis and his team. It was there that I first understood what Shakarparian was always meant to be. Doxiadis and his fellow planners did not design this triangle-shaped green expanse near Zero Point as an afterthought, a leftover patch of land between roads. They designated it, deliberately and explicitly, as the lungs of Islamabad — a temperature regulator, a natural sound barrier, a groundwater recharge zone, and a protective forest without which the city’s clean air was never meant to exist. This was not sentiment. This was engineering. And we have spent the decades since betraying it. Islamabad in 1961 was home to barely 117,000 people. Today it holds well over 2.4 million. That growth was not an accident — it was, in part, the very success of Doxiadis’s vision: a green, livable, breathable capital that drew people in from across the country and beyond. But success has a cruel irony here, because the same city that grew because of its green lungs has spent decades quietly cutting into them. Between 1961 and 2024, Islamabad’s temperature has already climbed by 5 degrees Celsius, with projections warning of a further 0.7 degrees by 2039 and 2.2 degrees by 2069. This is the urban heat island effect, and it is not an abstraction — it is Doxiadis’s temperature regulator being dismantled, piece by piece, exactly as he warned it must not be. Shakarparian itself covers roughly 1,376 hectares, formally absorbed into the Margalla Hills National Park in 1980, sitting almost at the very heart of the capital — an emerald set into the city’s crown, as it deserves to be called. A biodiversity survey conducted in November 2014 found 155 animal species sheltering within it: 23 species of mammals, 104 species of birds spanning 16 orders and 42 families, 22 species of reptiles, and 6 species of amphibians. The same survey catalogued more than 661 plant species across 28 families, with six distinct dominant vegetation communities knitting the forest floor together. This is not a park. This is a living, breathing ecological archive sitting in the geographic center of a national capital — a rarity almost nowhere else replicated in the world. It was Roedad Khan — the legendary civil servant and statesman — who understood the fragility of this inheritance early enough to act. In 1989 he founded the Margalla Hills Society, and for decades that institution has done more than most government departments to keep the wider Margalla ecosystem intact. But Shakarparian, sitting apart within it, has not been so fortunate. It has instead become a recurring casualty of the very authority meant to protect it — the Capital Development Authority itself. Piece by piece, lease by lease, CDA has allowed Shakarparian’s protective forest cover to be carved away. Look at what now occupies ground that was meant to remain forest: the Parade Ground, the Pak-China Friendship Centre, the Islamabad Club, the Gun and Country Club, Lok Virsa, an open-air theatre, and a string of upscale hotels and restaurants. Each addition was, in its own file, justified. Together, they are a forest reduced to a backdrop for institutions that no longer need it and increasingly cannot coexist with it. This has happened in direct violation of Regulation 4(3)(b) of the ICT Zoning Regulations of Islamabad, which exists for the explicit purpose of preventing exactly this kind of land-use change, allegedly under sustained political pressure. Satellite imagery from Landsat and Sentinel spanning the last twenty years tells the story without need for further commentary: the southwest region of Shakarparian shows a stark, measurable retreat of forest cover. The judiciary, at least once, was willing to look squarely at this. On January 11, 2022, the Islamabad High Court delivered its verdict in Prof. Zahid Baig Mirza versus Capital Development Authority, and the ruling was unambiguous: the shifting of the Parade Ground into Zone 3, the widening of roads through the forest, and the construction of the China Friendship Centre inside Shakarparian all violated the ICT Zoning Regulations. It was, on paper, a vindication of everything Doxiadis intended and everything CDA had ignored. A court verdict that is not enforced, however, is simply another document gathering dust the way the original master plan itself so nearly did. And here I have to say something that will not make me popular in certain circles of this city: the NGO sector stationed in Islamabad has failed Shakarparian as thoroughly as CDA has bulldozed it. The single biggest failure of these organizations is that they will not raise their own voice — they wait, always, for the government to raise it first, as though advocacy requires official permission. That is not activism. That is choreography. Too many of these NGOs are, in practice, family businesses wearing the language of conservation: leadership passed quietly within the same households for years, boards that never rotate, and a business model built not around planting a single tree in Shakarparian but around producing glossy reports, attending conferences, and mastering the art of recycling the same handful of buzzwords — resilience, sustainability, nature-based solutions — into slightly different sentences for slightly different donors. They are experts in rephrasing a crisis. They are not experts in stopping one. When the chainsaws reached the H-8 green belt, it was a lone campaigner and a worried student who spoke up first, not the well-funded organisations whose entire mandate is supposed to be exactly this. This failure is made worse by the fact that the government itself is not short of obligations it has already signed onto. Pakistan is a party to the Convention on Biological Diversity, which binds it to conserve representative ecosystems and halt biodiversity loss

By Saqlain Abid Tarrar The 60-day U.S.-Iran understanding expired on August 17 without the breakthrough Washington and Tehran had hoped—or claimed—to seek. The agreement has effectively stalled, the Strait of Hormuz remains at the centre of the confrontation, and both sides continue to blame the other for the diplomatic failure. Iran has now warned that it could shift towards a more offensive posture if diplomacy does not progress. This leaves a disturbing question on the table: is the nuclear option becoming the next neutralisation node in the Iran war? The question gained momentum after former Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene claimed that the use of nuclear weapons had been discussed in Trump administration strategy meetings. Such a claim should be treated cautiously because there is no independent evidence that President Donald Trump has ordered or formally approved a nuclear strike. Nevertheless, the allegation itself demonstrates how far the strategic debate has moved. The White House has maintained that nuclear use is not a proposal on the table. Yet Trump’s own rhetoric has made the situation increasingly difficult to ignore. He has declared that the United States has “total control” of Hormuz and described the idea of making the strategically vital waterway U.S. territory as attractive. The Strait of Hormuz is not merely another battlefield. Around one-fifth of the world’s oil and gas supplies normally pass through this narrow maritime chokepoint. Any prolonged closure therefore creates consequences far beyond Iran and the United States: higher energy prices, disrupted shipping, inflationary pressure and another shock to an already fragile global economy. So, what are the chances of the United States actually using nuclear weapons? At present, they remain extremely low—but low is not the same as impossible. History demonstrates how quickly supposedly unthinkable options can become military realities. The United States became the first country to use nuclear weapons in warfare when it dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945. However, it would be historically inaccurate to argue that those attacks were simply conducted to test plutonium and uranium against the Soviet Union. The motives remain debated, including compelling Japanese surrender and influencing the emerging post-war balance with Moscow. The lesson, nevertheless, is unmistakable: once a state believes that an extraordinary weapon can achieve an extraordinary political objective, the threshold can become dangerously negotiable. That is why today’s situation deserves scrutiny. The Trump administration needs an exit from a war that has become increasingly difficult to convert into a decisive political settlement. The USS Abraham Lincoln has also endured an exceptionally long deployment, reportedly more than 240 days at sea, adding another layer of military and political pressure. But nuclear weapons would not provide a rational solution to that problem. Iran’s nuclear capability is certainly a serious concern. The IAEA reported that Iran had accumulated about 440.9 kilograms of uranium enriched to 60 percent before the 2025 attacks disrupted international verification. That material could theoretically produce significant quantities of weapons-grade material if further enriched, but possession of 60-percent enriched uranium does not mean Iran already possesses nuclear weapons. Iran, meanwhile, has suffered severe economic and infrastructural damage, yet its resistance has not disappeared. Tehran continues to signal that it will not simply surrender under pressure. The danger is therefore that military escalation creates the very nuclear insecurity Washington says it wants to prevent. Russia and China could condemn any nuclear use and mobilise diplomatic opposition. The United Nations could debate emergency resolutions. European governments could strongly object. But none of these actors could physically intercept an American warhead once Washington had made the decision. That makes the most important restraint internal: the political and strategic judgment of the American leadership itself. And there is an even larger regional consequence. If Iran were struck with nuclear weapons, Gulf states could reach a frightening conclusion: conventional alliances may no longer provide sufficient security. Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Türkiye and others could reconsider their long-term strategic options. Nuclear hedging and proliferation could become increasingly attractive. That would transform the Middle East permanently. The irony would be profound. An American nuclear strike intended to prevent Iran from becoming a nuclear power could encourage an entire region to seek nuclear deterrence. Hormuz may eventually be reopened through negotiations, military pressure or a new regional security arrangement. But once the nuclear taboo is broken, restoring it would be far more difficult. The nuclear option should therefore remain the last option—not because it is weak, but because its consequences are stronger than any victory it could deliver. Power can neutralise an opponent. But when power is unleashed without restraint, it can ultimately neutralise the international order itself.

Pakistan has just taken on a new kind of commitment, and it has caught people’s attention in a way that ordinary diplomatic announcements rarely do. Pakistan’s ties with Saudi Arabia go back decades, and its defence relationship with Türkiye has grown steadily closer in recent years, so cooperation between the three is not surprising on its own. What is new is the nature of the commitment: an attack on any one of the three countries is now to be treated as an attack on all three.   This is not really about whether Pakistan should be working with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye. It is about whether Islamabad has entered this arrangement with a clear enough sense of what it wants from it, and what obligations it may quietly be creating for the future.   It also helps to get the timeline right. This is not Pakistan’s first mutual-defence commitment with Saudi Arabia. Back in September 2025, the two countries had already signed a Strategic Mutual Defense Agreement, treating aggression against either as aggression against both. What is new in 2026 is the attempt to bring Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye together inside one shared framework. Seen that way, this is less a first step and more a new layer added to a relationship that was already forming. An Alliance at a Complicated Moment The agreement comes at a difficult time. Pakistan sits right next to Iran and has a tense relationship with India, while both Saudi Arabia and Türkiye maintain strong economic ties with New Delhi. At the same time, Islamabad has to keep managing working relationships with Iran, China, the United States and its Gulf partners. Any defence commitment, then, has to be understood against several relationships that do not always move in the same direction.   Pakistan is also not entering this alliance from a position of comfort. The country is dealing with economic, security and political pressures all at once, along with instability on its Afghan border and a delicate Iran border to manage. That is a lot to balance already, which is exactly why the practical details of this new commitment matter more than the ceremony around its announcement. What Has Pakistan Actually Committed To? The basic idea is simple: an attack on one member is treated as an attack on all. But what does that actually mean in practice? What would genuinely trigger the commitment, and what military support would Pakistan be expected to give—or receive? And what happens if the three countries find themselves with different interests in the same crisis?   Pakistan’s own Foreign Ministry offered some sense of this in July 2026, saying that agreements of this kind mostly involve peacetime military cooperation, and that in an actual war, how far the commitment would go still needs to be worked out. If anything, that statement makes the case for more clarity, not less.   That uncertainty matters most in two situations close to home. If Pakistan faced another serious confrontation with India, would Saudi Arabia and Türkiye offer real support, given their own important ties to New Delhi? And if tensions with Iran escalated, would Pakistan be expected to take a position that could strain its relationship with its neighbour? Even the growing water dispute with India, one of Pakistan’s most basic security concerns, has not been publicly linked to any shared plan among the three partners. These questions remain open.   There is also a quieter concern worth sitting with. Saudi Arabia brings financial strength to the table, Türkiye brings a growing defence industry, and Pakistan brings manpower, real operational experience and nuclear deterrence. If these strengths are genuinely shared, all three countries could benefit. But if the load falls unevenly, with Pakistan carrying most of the manpower while its own position in a future India crisis stays unclear, the costs could end up outweighing the gains.   History offers a useful reminder here. In his 1983 book Can Pakistan Survive? The Death of a State, Tariq Ali examined Pakistan’s political system, its foreign policy, and the powerful role the military has long played within the state. The circumstances today are very different, but his broader question still feels relevant: can Pakistan turn its usefulness to other powers into lasting strength of its own?   Something else stood out alongside the agreement itself: the mood surrounding it. Governments naturally welcome diplomatic wins, but a defence pact carrying possible wartime obligations is a different kind of agreement than a trade deal. With so many practical details still unclear, the celebratory tone raises a fair question: is this a carefully thought-through long-term strategy, or mostly the excitement of the moment? Commitments this serious deserve a clear explanation before they deserve applause.   Pakistan must also make sure its growing ties with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye stay compatible with its long-standing relationship with China, and with the working relations it still needs with Iran and the United States. Strategic Relevance Is Not Strategic Autonomy Pakistan is becoming more important to other countries. Its military strength, its geography, its nuclear deterrence, and its relationships across very different global camps all give Islamabad real value in the eyes of others. But being useful to other countries is not the same as having a clear strategy of your own.   Strategic autonomy simply means that Pakistan knows what it wants and makes sure its partnerships actually serve that. It means asking not only what Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, China or the United States want from Pakistan, but what Pakistan wants from each of them in return. A country can be militarily valuable, geographically important and courted by several powers, and still have no defined national strategy behind it. That difference sits at the heart of this entire discussion.   Washington’s fairly quiet response also deserves attention. There is no evidence that the United States is deliberately setting a trap for Pakistan. But Islamabad should still think carefully about whether a closer Saudi-Pakistani security relationship could, over time,