Debtocracy & bankruptcy of ideas   

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.

By General Ghulam Mustafa (Served in different staff and command assignments, commanded a Corps, raised and commanded Army Strategic Force Command) & Engineer Arshad H Abbasi, Co-founder, Energy Excellence Centres at NUST and Engineering University Peshawar, International Transboundary Water Expert We are not screenwriters, and this is not the plot of some Hollywood picture about killer robots. We write this together as two men who came to the same conclusion from two different directions — one of us a soldier who has stood post and commanded troops, the other a mechanic and engineer who has spent his life with his hands inside machines, the kind who can tell you what’s wrong with an engine by the sound it makes before it ever fails. Between us, we have spent the last two years doing the same thing every serious military professional on earth has been doing: watching. Watching Russia and Ukraine grind through the third year of a war that has quietly buried the twentieth century. Watching the United States and Israel fight Iran through the spring and summer of 2026 in a conflict that opened with a strike on a supreme leader and closed, for now, with tankers stacked outside a blockaded Strait of Hormuz. We have not been watching for drama. We have been watching for the future, because the future is what these two wars have been showing us, in plain daylight, for anyone willing to look. In these two wars, our role has not been that of commentators cheering for one flag or another. It has been closer to that of historians standing over wreckage — the unglamorous, unsleeping work of the crash investigator rather than the war correspondent. Every video of an intercepted missile over the Gulf, every geolocated frame of a naval drone striking a Russian hull, every leaked spec sheet of a downed quadcopter over the Black Sea or a jammed loitering munition over the Iranian coast, has to be logged, timestamped, and cross-checked against the next one. That is what wreckage analysis actually is: not excitement, but discipline — recording what a piece of equipment was asked to do, and what it actually did, until the pattern becomes undeniable. Two years of that discipline, applied to two very different wars fought six thousand kilometres apart, keeps returning the same verdict. Here is what we have seen. The age of the tank column, the massed infantry advance, the fighter squadron duel, and even the aircraft carrier as the ultimate expression of national power — that age is closing. Not because these machines have become useless overnight, but because a battlefield now watched by satellites, saturated with cheap sensors, and swarmed by thousands of low-cost drones has no room left for anything large, slow, or expensive to hide in. Ukraine, a country with no serious blue-water navy, used naval drones costing a fraction of a warship to cripple roughly 40 percent of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet and force the rest to retreat from Crimea’s shores. In the Iran war, American carrier strike groups sat further offshore than doctrine once assumed necessary, and the campaign’s real damage was done by long-range strike, electronic warfare, and a naval blockade — not by tank divisions crossing a border, because there was no border to cross. The lesson repeats itself in both theatres: mass a large, valuable, human-crewed asset in the open, and you have built an expensive target. The war has moved to the phone in a soldier’s hand and the joystick on a folding table a hundred kilometres from the front. That is the second thing the two of us keep coming back to, and we believe it is right: future wars will be fought on mobile phones, controlling drones and robots. A robotic aircraft or ground vehicle can turn harder, dive faster, and sit still for longer than any pilot or driver, because it carries no pulse, no fear, no fatigue, and no family waiting at home. It needs no food. It needs no rest. It bleeds nothing when it dies except budget. Robots are already taking on the jobs that used to cost human lives — clearing minefields, hauling ammunition across exposed ground, flying reconnaissance into airspace too dangerous for a manned cockpit, making split-second targeting decisions with artificial intelligence faster than any human crew ever could. Armed drones and robotic ground vehicles now engage targets without risking a single pilot or driver. And because production, not stockpiling, decides who wins a prolonged war, the country that can build the most machines the fastest — not the country with the largest inherited arsenal — will hold the advantage. That is why the truest weapon in this new age is not a missile or a jet. It is the strength of a nation’s economy: its factories, its chip supply, its ability to iterate a drone design in weeks instead of years. Nowhere is this arithmetic more urgent than on the roof of the world, along the disputed frontier between India and China. China is not merely testing drones there; it is one of the most important production engines in the world for both, and it has been pouring resources into robotic ground systems, sensors, and autonomous platforms specifically postured along the Line of Actual Control, at altitudes where a human soldier struggles simply to breathe, let alone fight. Every one of those machines can be commanded from a warm room in Beijing, thousands of kilometres from the mountain. It needs no oxygen tent, no field ration, no medical evacuation. It can occupy a ridge and simply wait there, indefinitely, with a precision no human sentry can match, and it costs Beijing nothing but electricity and silicon when it is destroyed. Against that, India fields one of the largest land armies on the planet — an active strength of roughly 1.25 million soldiers, organized into seven operational commands and fourteen corps of holding and strike formations, built on a tradition of sacrifice, discipline, and sheer human

Calling Babarloi Bypass the “Strait of Hormuz of Sindh” would not be an exaggeration. In Sindh’s nationalist political discourse, the name Babarloi Bypass has repeatedly resurfaced in connection with the “Babarloi Dharna” (sit-in). Babarloi is an ancient settlement in Khairpur district. According to historical accounts, including Tareekh-e-Masoomi and Tarkhan Nama, this was the place where Mughal Emperor Humayun, after being defeated by Sher Shah Suri and forced into exile, stayed for nearly six months before heading towards Iran. Today, Babarloi Bypass has emerged as a crucial junction on the National Highway N-5. This strategic corridor connects Sindh with Punjab, Balochistan and upper Sindh, making it a vital artery for trade and transportation. Economically, Punjab and Sindh are deeply interdependent. On one hand, Punjab relies on Sindh for imported goods arriving through Karachi’s ports, including machinery, industrial raw material, chemicals and electronics. It also depends on Sindh for the transportation of oil and petroleum products, as some of Pakistan’s major oil refineries and import terminals are located in Sindh. On the other hand, Sindh depends heavily on Punjab for wheat, flour, sugar, textiles, engineering goods, agricultural products, poultry, dairy and other food supplies. However, in comparative terms, blocking Babarloi Bypass on the N-5 route would cause a far greater economic disruption to Punjab than to Sindh because of Punjab’s larger dependence on this transit corridor for trade flows. Whether the issue is the controversial six-canal project or the debate over the creation of new provinces, some political stakeholders in Sindh view Babarloi Bypass as a pressure point against Punjab and the federal government. Their strategy has been to send a message that before raising questions about the division of Sindh, Punjab and the federation must recognise the consequences of alienating the province. For these groups, Babarloi Bypass has become Sindh’s equivalent of a strategic pressure point — a place through which pressure can be exerted on the federal centre. Last year, a major protest was staged at Babarloi Bypass (Khairpur, Sindh) against the federal government’s proposed project to construct six new canals from the Indus River. The eleven-day sit-in, organised by lawyers, nationalist parties, farmers’ organisations and civil society groups, continued from April 18 to April 29, 2025. As a result, the National Highway N-5 remained blocked at Babarloi Bypass, disrupting movement between Sindh and Punjab. The transportation of goods was almost suspended, affecting supplies of vegetables, fruits, cotton, rice and other agricultural commodities to Punjab. Several industries faced delays in receiving raw materials, while hundreds of trucks remained stranded for days, causing losses worth millions of rupees to transporters and traders. The protest eventually ended after negotiations between a delegation of the Sindh government and the lawyers’ action committee. The agreement included the following assurances: The Council of Common Interests (CCI) would decide the future of the controversial canal project, and no progress would be made without consensus among all provinces. The government assured the issuance of an official notification addressing the lawyers’ demands and promised to provide relevant legal documents. The Babarloi Dharna was considered one of the significant political protests of 2025 because it increased pressure on the federal government, disrupted the land link between Sindh and Punjab for several days, and played a role in bringing the canal issue back to the platform of the Council of Common Interests.   The following year, Babarloi Bypass once again became the centre of a major protest. On July 23, 2026, a second sit-in was staged, this time not against the canal project but to demand the recovery of 27 missing children from Sindh, including the high-profile case of Priya Kumari. The protest was attended by lawyers, civil society activists, nationalist political workers, families of missing children and ordinary citizens. During the protest, the debate over the creation of new provinces, particularly from Karachi and federal circles, once again gained momentum. As a result, Sindh’s nationalist politics was once again seen aligning itself with anti-centre and anti-Punjab sentiments during the demonstration. Moreover, some separatist elements reportedly raised slogans such as “Pakistan Na Khappe” (We do not want Pakistan) and “Pakistan Murdabad” (Down with Pakistan) during the sit-in. However, unlike the previous year, the protest was brought to an end by the Sindh government with the assistance of police authorities. The Babarlo police, in their own account of the incident, accused the protesters of obstructing police vehicles, resorting to stone-pelting, and raising anti-Pakistan slogans during the standoff. According to reports, police took action to disperse the protesters, several individuals were arrested, and later cases were registered against 13 named persons and around 150 unidentified individuals under various provisions, including anti-terrorism laws. The manner in which the Sindh government dealt with this year’s sit-in suggests a different political approach compared to nationalist leaders. It indicates that the provincial government was reluctant to escalate tensions with either the Punjab government or the Pakistan Peoples Party’s political partners at the federal level. The Sindh government also appeared unwilling to allow the closure of Babarloi Bypass to turn the issue into a larger confrontation. The PPP leadership is aware that preventing child abductions and ensuring the recovery of missing children is primarily the responsibility of the Sindh government; neither Punjab nor the federal government can be held directly accountable for such matters. Therefore, before nationalist groups could create a situation that might politically embarrass the PPP at the federal level, the Sindh government moved to end the sit-in and restrict the influence of protest organisers. Whether the two major political parties have reached an understanding behind closed doors under the spirit of the Charter of Democracy remains a matter of speculation. However, the way both parties continue to engage in verbal confrontations during the Azad Jammu and Kashmir elections appears, to some observers, to be part of a broader political strategy.

By Malik Khuda Bakhsh Awan, retired Inspector General of Punjab Police and former IG of Azad Jammu & Kashmir & Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, water and energy expert who has served in KPK and AJK, We write this not as critics sitting comfortably at a distance, but as two servants of this soil who have spent our working lives in the very regions now aflame with unrest — one of us measuring the water and energy that could have irrigated peace in KPK and AJK, the other commanding police lines in Punjab and standing watch over the mountains of Azad Kashmir. What we have seen convinces us of one thing above all: the fire in Balochistan, AJK and the erstwhile KPK is serious, but it is not yet beyond our control. It can still be reversed — if the Government of Pakistan acts with the courage to match the sacrifice already being offered on our behalf. Before we offer a single suggestion, we must first bow our heads. Every day, a young Jawan somewhere in Balochistan or the tribal belt tightens his boots before dawn, not knowing if he will return. Every week, a Frontier Corps patrol walks into an ambush it did not seek, and an FC officer’s name is added to a list none of us wants to grow longer. Every month, policemen in Quetta, Muzaffarabad and Peshawar guard checkposts that other citizens simply drive past without a thought. From the newest recruit to the most senior general, our security forces have offered blood, limb and years away from their families to hold this country together. Their courage is not in question. Their commitment is not in doubt. What we owe them now is not more praise — it is a strategy worthy of their sacrifice. That is the entire purpose of this letter. We do not want the martyrdom of our Army, Police and FC personnel to be spent on a war that could have been shortened, or avoided, by decisions made in Islamabad rather than only on the battlefield. History offers us hard evidence that this is possible, even in conflicts far older and far bloodier than ours. Lessons the world has already paid for, so we don’t have to. Colombia fought a Marxist insurgency for fifty years, financed by drugs and kidnapping — arguably a longer and more entrenched war than anything Pakistan faces today. Peace came in 2016 not because the state finally won every battle, but because it paired security operations with land redistribution for poor farmers and a transitional justice system that let fighters confess their crimes in exchange for reduced sentences, rebuilding public trust along the way. In Northern Ireland, three decades of sectarian killing between republicans and unionists ended largely because international partners poured investment into the poorest, most neglected border towns — the very places where despair had made paramilitary recruitment easy — while a new power-sharing government guaranteed both communities an equal, transparent voice. Sierra Leone’s civil war was fuelled by “blood diamonds.” It was tamed not merely by defeating the rebels but by legalising and regulating small-scale mining so that ordinary mining communities, not warlords, earned the benefit, backed by an internationally certified transparent supply chain and a strengthened anti-corruption commission. And in our own neighbourhood, the Philippines faced a decades-long Muslim separatist insurgency in Mindanao. It was calmed considerably by granting the Bangsamoro region genuine fiscal autonomy — its own revenue powers and a guaranteed development grant — replacing a corrupt, clan-captured funding system with one that visibly reached ordinary people. The pattern across every one of these conflicts, each objectively worse than what we face today, is the same. Peace did not arrive purely from military victory. It arrived when governments paired continued security pressure with transparent governance and genuine economic opportunity, so that the incentive to pick up a gun simply fell away. Our humble suggestions to the Government- First, unemployment among our youth is, in our respectful assessment, the single biggest driver of unrest in Balochistan, AJK and the tribal districts. A young man with a trade, a wage and a future does not need the BLA or the TTP to promise him meaning; he already has it. We therefore urge the government to treat job creation in these regions not as a welfare afterthought but as a core national-security investment, on par with any military allocation. Second, we ask for financial transparency in how resources from these very regions — gas, minerals, hydropower, forests — are spent. When local people can see, in plain terms, where the revenue from their own land goes, resentment gives way to ownership. Third, we ask for genuine, verifiable inclusion — local land and mining rights regularised in favour of communities rather than absentee interests, block grants that reach tehsil and union council level without being intercepted along the way, and reconstruction that is co-designed with elders and local government rather than imposed from a distant secretariat. Fourth, we ask for a dignified, well-resourced path for demobilisation and reintegration wherever it is possible — vocational training, stipends and honest employment for those willing to lay down arms, so that today’s militant does not become tomorrow’s freelance criminal. Fifth, and we say this with the greatest respect, every federal minister must spend a minimum of fifteen days, physically present, in Balochistan, AJK and KPK each year — not for a photo opportunity at a heavily guarded circuit house, but sitting with local elders, visiting FC and police posts, and looking our Jawans in the eye. A soldier who sees his federal government only through television screens begins to wonder if Islamabad remembers he exists. When a minister walks the same ground our forces are dying to defend, it tells every Jawan, every FC sepoy, every constable that his sacrifice is seen, valued and shared by those who lead him. This single change of habit would do more for morale on the front line than any speech delivered

Hazrat Syed Ali bin Usman Al-Hajveri (R.A), popularly venerated as Data Ganj Bakhsh or Data Sahib, occupies a seminal position among the classical Sufi scholars of the Islamic tradition. Born in 1009 CE in Ghazni, present-day Afghanistan, he migrated to Lahore during the Ghaznavid period, where he spent the remainder of his life engaged in instruction, spiritual guidance, and moral reform. He died in 1072 CE and was interred in Lahore, where his shrine remains a major center of religious and cultural activity in South Asia.   The honorifics “Data” and “Ganj Bakhsh” denoting “the Giver” and “Distributor of Treasures” were conferred upon him in recognition of his intellectual munificence and his commitment to philanthropy. Historical and hagiographic sources attest that his hospice was accessible to individuals irrespective of social, linguistic, or religious affiliation. This principle of inclusivity continues to inform the ethos of his shrine, which attracts millions of pilgrims annually from Pakistan and abroad.   Hazrat Data Sahib’s principal scholarly contribution is the Persian treatise Kashf-ul-Mahjoob: The Revelation of the Veiled. Composed in the 11th century, it is regarded as the earliest systematic exposition of Sufism in the Persian language and retains canonical status in seminaries and universities worldwide. In this work, he delineates the interior dimensions of Islam, emphasizing that proximity to the Divine is attained through sincerity of intention, service to humanity, and sustained remembrance of Allah.   At present, his shrine in Lahore, known as Data Darbar, constitutes one of the largest Sufi complexes in South Asia. Daily visitation peaks on Thursdays, and the institution of perpetual langar  the provision of free meals  operationalizes his teaching on social welfare and continues to serve thousands of people each day.   The epistemological and ethical framework of Hazrat Data Sahib’s thought may be summarized under four interrelated principles.   First, he posited love of Allah and His Messenger ﷺ as the teleological basis of human existence. In Kashf-ul-Mahjoob, he argues that worship should proceed not from instrumental motives of fear or expectation of reward, but from authentic love and sincerity. He further contends that the spiritually realized individual maintains constant consciousness of Allah in all states of being.   Second, he advanced service to humanity as a form of worship. Rejecting ascetic withdrawal, he advocated an engaged ethic in which the pursuit of knowledge is coupled with service to the marginalized. His designation as “Ganj Bakhsh” reflects this commitment to the distribution of both material and spiritual resources. Third, he emphasized Tazkiya-e-Nafs, or the purification of the self, as a prerequisite for moral agency. He enjoined his disciples to abstain from vices such as greed, envy, wrath, slander, and pride, and to cultivate virtues including patience (sabr), gratitude (shukr), veracity (sidq), and contentment (qana‘at). For him, authentic knowledge was manifest not merely in textual erudition but in ethical conduct (akhlaq). Fourth, he articulated Sufism as the inward dimension of Shariah. He maintained that observance of ritual obligations  prayer, fasting, and lawful livelihood  must be complemented by dhikr, the remembrance of Allah, to ensure spiritual vitality. He further stressed the necessity of authoritative pedagogy and virtuous companionship as conduits for moral and spiritual development. The teachings of Data Ganj Bakhsh retain considerable relevance in the 21st century. In an era characterized by consumerism, occupational precarity, and digital hyper-connectivity, his advocacy of qana‘at and dhikr offers a corrective to stress, anxiety, and existential vacuity. His framework suggests that psychological equilibrium is derived less from material accumulation than from interior discipline and divine orientation.   Furthermore, his principle of social service addresses contemporary challenges of poverty, isolation, and inequality. The institutionalized langar at Data Darbar exemplifies this ethic and provides a model for civic engagement, volunteerism, and communal solidarity.   In the context of digital communication, his insistence on akhlaq assumes particular salience. His exhortations to truthfulness, humility, and restraint provide a normative basis for addressing online hostility, misinformation, and the erosion of civility. For students and professionals alike, his model affirms that technical competence must be accompanied by moral integrity.   Finally, his doctrine of equilibrium between spiritual and worldly responsibilities offers a viable paradigm for modern Muslim subjects. He did not advocate monasticism, but rather the integration of professional, academic, and technological life with enduring spiritual commitments. This synthesis enables individuals to pursue vocational excellence without compromising ethical values.   In conclusion, the legacy of Hazrat Ali Hajveri (R.A) transcends its historical milieu. Centered on love of Allah, service to humanity, and self-purification, his teachings provide a coherent response to contemporary social and psychological challenges. The adoption of these principles at the individual and communal level holds the potential to foster more just, compassionate, and purpose-driven societies.

“Nato is a giant military alliance where there are 32 countries. We have started here as three countries and we have to take very humble but concrete steps”—Makkah defence pact technically same as Nato’s Article 5: Turkish minister, The News, August 9, 2026 The above words of Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan deserve careful attention. Speaking after the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement between Türkiye, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, he went considerably further than the diplomatic language normally accompanying defence cooperation. He described the arrangement as technically the same as NATO’s Article 5 principle of collective defence. More importantly, Fidan disclosed something about its intended institutional evolution. A ministerial committee resembling NATO’s structure is to be created, a permanent secretariat will be established in Saudi Arabia, and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan does not envisage an organisation permanently confined to its three founding members. Egypt is already being mentioned as a possible entrant. The question we raised immediately after Makkah has therefore acquired greater urgency: are we witnessing the embryonic formation of an Islamic NATO? The answer requires more caution than either celebration or alarm. The Makkah agreement is unquestionably important. Saudi Arabia combines enormous financial and energy resources with a pivotal position in the Arab and Islamic worlds. Türkiye possesses NATO’s second-largest military, an increasingly sophisticated defence-industrial base and strategic access linking Europe, the Black Sea, the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Pakistan is a nuclear-armed state located at the intersection of South Asia, China, Central Asia, Iran and the Arabian Sea. Taken together, the three constitute an unusual coalition of middle powers. Their convergence is also occurring at a moment when the regional order constructed around American predominance is under extraordinary strain. The latest Middle Eastern war has again demonstrated that overwhelming military capability can destroy infrastructure and degrade adversaries without necessarily producing political order. Michael Fuchs recently argued in Foreign Affairs that the United States should finally relinquish its attempt to dominate the Middle East militarily. The proposition is important, but it raises a larger question. If American primacy recedes, what replaces it? International relations offers no reason to assume that withdrawal by a dominant external power automatically produces regional peace. It can produce strategic autonomy. It can equally produce competitive balancing, arms races and struggles among regional powers seeking to fill the resulting space. Makkah Defence Agreement represents both an opportunity and a danger. The opportunity is the emergence of indigenous collective security. For much of the modern history of the Middle East, regional states have depended upon external powers for protection while simultaneously fearing abandonment by those same protectors. Britain once performed this role in the Gulf. The United States subsequently constructed a much larger military architecture based upon bases, arms supplies, bilateral guarantees and partnerships. Dependence created security, but never complete strategic autonomy. Saudi Arabia’s search for alternatives must be understood against this background. Türkiye has followed another path: remaining inside NATO while steadily expanding its capacity for independent action. Pakistan maintains a strategic partnership with China without severing its relationships with Washington, Riyadh or Ankara. These are not states simply changing camps. They are practising what contemporary scholarship increasingly describes as hybrid or non-exclusive alignment: cultivating overlapping relationships rather than accepting the rigid binaries of Cold War alliance politics. This makes Fidan’s second assertion as important as his comparison with Article 5. He insists that Makkah is not directed against Iran or any other country. That principle must survive implementation. An alliance requires deterrence; it does not necessarily require a permanent enemy. If the emerging arrangement becomes an anti-Iran coalition, it will institutionalise one of the Muslim world’s most dangerous fault lines. Iran is not a temporary presence in the Gulf. It is a major civilisation and regional power whose geography cannot be altered by sanctions, regime change strategies or military pressure. Pakistan has particular reason to understand this. Iran is its neighbour. Internal sectarian peace, Balochistan, border security, Afghanistan and regional connectivity all make a permanently hostile Pakistan-Iran relationship strategically irrational. Nor should Makkah become simply the Muslim military response to Israel. The Palestinian question cannot be removed from regional security, as proponents of the Abraham Accords sometimes appeared to assume. Normalisation and economic integration cannot indefinitely substitute for a political settlement guaranteeing Palestinian rights and viable statehood. At the same time, transforming the region into two permanent military camps would hardly produce the peace Palestinians themselves require. The better possibility is, thus, not an Islamic NATO in the literal sense. NATO emerged from the particular conditions of post-war Europe and bipolar confrontation with the Soviet Union. The Muslim world is geographically dispersed, politically heterogeneous and internally divided. Its states have very different relations with Washington, Beijing, Moscow, Tehran and Tel Aviv. Türkiye itself demonstrates the difficulty of imposing a binary model: it would simultaneously belong to NATO and to the emerging Makkah Accord. That apparent contradiction may actually tell us something important about the international order now taking shape. The twenty-first century may be characterised less by fixed blocs than by overlapping arrangements through which middle powers seek room for manoeuvre between larger powers. This is also where geoeconomics becomes indispensable. Saudi finance and energy, Türkiye’s manufacturing and defence technology and Pakistan’s geography, human resources and access towards China, Central Asia and the Arabian Sea could create something considerably more important than another military organisation. Egypt’s eventual participation would add the Suez Canal, the Arab world’s largest population and another major military power. A security structure built around such capabilities could eventually support trade, energy corridors, defence production, technological cooperation, food security and infrastructure connectivity. Without this economic foundation, an Islamic NATO would remain largely an exercise in military coordination. China will watch these developments closely. Beijing requires Gulf energy, values Iran, has deep interests in Pakistan and maintains substantial economic relations across the Middle East. It is unlikely to wish to inherit America’s expensive role as regional military hegemon. A regional arrangement capable of providing stability without forcing states into an