From Aspiration to Reintegration: Rethinking Pakis…

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.

Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Türkiye have signed the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement on 7 August in 2026 and this signing is far more significant than what ceremony and symbolism it carries. Signed in Makkah by Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Pakistani Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, the deal provides that an armed attack against any one of the three countries will be considered as an attack against all the three countries.  But its sincerity was greatest not in the denouncing of a specific enemy but in an understanding of the strategic environment which has produced an enemy. It is not a moment for defining the agreement as an “anti-Iran, anti-Israel, anti-American pact. There’s no mentioning of any of these states being specifically called out as the target state. Instead, the agreement seems to be part of a larger strategic pivot amid a more complicated security landscape in the Middle East. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan have divergent agenda in foreign-policy, but all three countries have an interest in lessening strategic vulnerability while gaining more ‘room for manoeuvre’. For the capital of the Hejaz, the key strategic priority is defending its territory, which contains important military bases, energy resources and trading lines, set in a much-changing environment. Saudi Arabia has close relations with Washington, but its foreign policy in recent years has been firmly founded on a strong sense of need for building more than one strategic partnership with the outside world. As such, the Makkah deal is more a tool for “strategic hedging” and less a statement of opposition to a specific regime. The participation of Türkiye is especially significant. While Ankara is a NATO country, it is also developing an autonomous regional foreign policy. In particular the dealings of its government with Iran, Russia, the Gulf monarchies, Europe, and the United States make it difficult to pigeonhole current Turkish strategy into a neat geopolitical box. The importance of this in the context of Türkiye’s presence in the country is such that shooting multi-alignment rather than sectarian or bloc confrontation. On the other hand, Pakistan has years of defence cooperation with Saudi Arabia and a growing institutionalized strategic ties with Türkiye. The deal provides Islamabad a chance to take the existing military cooperation into a larger strategic partnership. However, Pakistan needs to prudently guard its ties with the neighbouring country Iran as well as its ancestral ties with Saudi Arabia and also protect and carry forward its strategic partnership with China. The most sensible thing for Pakistan to do, then, is not bloc politics but calibrated multi-alignment. Particularly noted is Egypt’s non-participation in the defence pact, but it is too early to draw a clear conclusion that the country had been denied its membership due to the influence of any other country, including the United States and Israel. Indeed, Egypt has been continuing its strong partnerships with Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan within the framework of R4. In June 2026, all four countries’ foreign ministers met in Cairo and reiterated their efforts in the realm of consultation and regional stability and coordinated diplomacy.  This isn’t necessarily a foreign veto in action, then, that Egypt is not a party to a certain military arrangement, but could be partly because of its own strategic decisions. The same level of skepticism should be applied towards the general pronouncements about Israel. As Türkiye’s rival relationship with Tel Aviv and the Saudi Arabia’s major role in the Arab-Israeli conflict weighs in, Israel will increasingly be considered a part of the “strategic equation” of the region. However, to date there is no visible evidence that the Makkah agreement was essentially a plan against Israel. Likewise, any potential Pakistani naval base at Pasni or the potential major shift of Pakistan’s maritime strategy should be viewed currently not as policy, but as potential options. The rising significance of geography at sea is much more evident. National security is entangling in increasing ways with the Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Oman, the Red Sea and network of commercial and energy corridors. Nowadays, ports and shipping routes are not just economic infrastructure, but strategic assets, in a world of geopolitical dynamics and fragile supply networks. This geographical locational aspect highlights the significance attributed to Pakistan as going beyond its geographical limelight in geography. Chances are on the rise that China will play a key role in this new order. Beijing has already got noticeable economic presence in Pakistan and the Gulf countries, and importantly, it has built a long-term strategic presence in the Indian Ocean via the Belt and Road Initiative and CPEC. However, China has tended towards more flexible economic and diplomatic ties rather than military alliances. Saudi-Türkiye-Pakistan cooperation thus puts Beijing in a stronger position to maintain room for manoeuvre within the new framework without having to join it formally. The emerging picture is rather not that of a straightforward American power-substitution than one of an American power-displacement. Instead, the Middle East seems to be shifting towards a more pluralist and networked security configuration, in which governments have multiple relations with rival entities at the same time. Saudi Arabia can cooperate with the US and work towards closer ties with Pakistan and Türkiye; Türkiye can be in NATO and yet have a policy of its own in the region; Pakistan can have closer relationship with China, and Saudi Arabia and Türkiye; and at the same time take part in the dialogue between Pakistan and Iran and the West. After signing the Makkah agreement, its ultimate effect will be determined. Though it might turn into a regular framework of intelligence sharing, joint exercises, defence production and operational co-ordination it could serve as a lasting centrepiece of regional security. Its impact will be more limited, if it is kept largely declaratory. But at this time the most credible inference is that the Makkah pact is far from being an alliance against a common enemy but rather a strategy for the breakdown of one

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

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

For years, people uploaded photographs, videos and voice recordings believing they were sharing moments or building audiences. What many did not realise was that public material could become training data for artificial intelligence. Large AI systems may be developed using datasets containing personal information collected from websites and platforms. European regulators acknowledge that AI models can be trained on personal data, while the UK Information Commissioner says developers still need a lawful basis even when information comes from the open web. Training a general model and cloning a person are not identical. The first learns patterns across datasets; the second uses targeted samples to reproduce an identifiable voice or appearance. Yet both raise the same question: who authorised the use? A new proposition is emerging: instead of companies quietly collecting human material, people may knowingly license their faces, voices and movements for AI development or commercial digital replicas. In return, they could receive a one-time payment, royalties or a fee whenever their synthetic identity is used. This is beginning. Shutterstock operates a contributor fund that compensates contributors when material from its library is licensed for AI model development. SAG-AFTRA has negotiated protections for digital replicas. The voice platform Narrativ allows performers to set prices and advertising preferences for AI-generated versions of their voices, with payment for approved uses. At first glance, this is progress. People’s data has already been feeding digital systems, often without their knowledge, meaningful choice or financial benefit. A transparent marketplace could be fairer. At least individuals would know that a voice sample or facial scan was being collected. There would be a contract, and some value created from human identity could return to the human being. It could also create work. A person might license a recorded voice for educational narration in several languages. A model could approve a digital replica for advertisements without attending repeated shoots. People far from production centres might gain opportunities previously unavailable to them. But payment is not the same as protection. A person offered a modest amount may sign away far more than they understand. A broadly written agreement could allow a company to reproduce a face or voice for years, transfer it to other businesses, train additional models and place the replica in contexts the person would never endorse. The human receives one payment; the synthetic version may generate revenue indefinitely. Faces and voices are not ordinary digital products. A password can be changed after a breach. A face cannot. A cloned voice can imitate a family member, support a fraudulent request or manufacture a statement that was never made. The US Federal Trade Commission has warned that scammers can create convincing voice clones from short audio clips found online. The answer is not to ban every voluntary AI licence. It is to establish non-negotiable human protections. Consent must be specific, informed and renewable. Companies should state whether material will be used for training, identity replication or both. Agreements must define the product, audience, country, platform and time period. Permission for an educational video must not silently become permission for political advertising, gambling, medical claims, intimate material or religious messaging. Compensation should continue when the replica continues earning. Where a digital identity is repeatedly used, the person should receive royalties or per-use payments, not merely a small initial fee. Individuals should be able to set minimum prices, reject industries and see where their replica appeared. There must also be a genuine right to stop future use. Companies should delete source files, block new generations and notify third parties when a licence ends. Independent audits should test compliance. Strong security and penalties for leaks are essential because biometric material cannot simply be replaced. Every synthetic performance should carry visible disclosure and a machine-readable marker. The European Union’s transparency rules, applicable from 2 August 2026, require certain AI-generated or manipulated material to be identifiable and deepfakes to be disclosed. Labels will not prevent every abuse, but they help preserve the distinction between human action and machine-generated imitation. Children need stronger protection. Parents should not be able to permanently commercialise a child’s future identity. Any limited agreement should expire and require the individual’s fresh consent upon adulthood. Pakistan should treat this as urgent. As of 2026, the country still lacks a comprehensive enacted personal data protection law. This creates vulnerability just as international companies may seek diverse and comparatively inexpensive populations for AI training.  The greatest risk is not that humans will earn from AI. Fairly sharing value could correct years of silent extraction. The danger is that people will exchange permanent control for temporary payment. As AI advances, societies must recognise the face, voice and digital personality as extensions of the human person, not raw material waiting to be harvested. Without consent, continuing compensation, traceability and the power to say no, we may lose more than jobs or privacy. We may lose the trust that allows us to believe what we see, hear and recognise. AI should expand human possibility, not gradually replace human ownership of the self.

The preceding part of this series examined a question ordinarily left outside discussions on riba: who should create money? It argued that commercial-bank money creation is not, by itself, riba, but that the power to create purchasing power through credit is a matter of public importance requiring transparency, restraint and accountability. One possible reform is to separate transaction money, fully backed by sovereign money, from funds deliberately committed for investment. That proposition leads to an even more fundamental question. What exactly is a bank deposit? The answer appears obvious only because modern banking has merged several economically different relationships into the same institution. A person places salary in a current account because it must be available tomorrow morning. Another person places accumulated savings with a bank hoping to earn a return over five years. A business maintains money for payroll and suppliers. An investor deliberately commits capital to a project knowing that commercial gain is accompanied by the possibility of loss. Calling all these balances “deposits” conceals distinctions that become crucial in a financial order seeking to eliminate riba. There is a basic difference between money and investment. Money held for payment performs the functions of medium of exchange and store of nominal value. Its owner expects Rs.100 deposited today to remain Rs.100 tomorrow and to be transferable on demand. Investment capital performs another function. It is consciously placed in productive activity in expectation of gain and consequently bears the possibility of commercial loss. One cannot logically demand both absolute safety and entrepreneurial return from the same contractual relationship unless somebody else is made to carry the risk. Islamic jurisprudence recognised these distinctions long before modern banking. Funds entrusted purely for safekeeping can constitute amanah. A trustee does not own them and is not ordinarily liable for loss occurring without negligence or misconduct. Where fungible money is transferred to another person with authority to use it and an obligation to return its equivalent, the relationship acquires the character of qard, or loan. State Bank of Pakistan’s own glossary reflects precisely this reasoning. It describes an amanah as property held in trust and states that current accounts may initially be regarded as trust deposits. Once a bank obtains authority to use current-account funds in its business, however, the relationship becomes a loan because the bank must repay the full amount. This point deserves much greater attention. If a bank accepts Rs.100,000 from a customer, is free to use that money for its own financing operations and remains legally bound to repay Rs.100,000 whenever demanded, the customer is not bearing an investment risk. Whatever terminology appears on the account-opening form, economically the bank has received financing from the customer. No difficulty necessarily arises if the customer receives nothing beyond repayment of the amount advanced. The difficulty arises when banking system treats this repayable-at-par money simultaneously as the raw material from which additional financing and monetary claims can be generated. Part II suggested one possible solution: transaction accounts should be treated entirely differently. A current account used for wages, household expenditure, business payments and ordinary transfers should represent protected transaction money. If such balances are fully backed by sovereign money or central-bank reserves, they need not be exposed to the bank’s commercial financing decisions. The account holder would possess money, not an investment claim upon the success of a bank. The bank would provide custody, payments, transfers, cards, digital access and settlement services. It could legitimately charge transparent fees for those services. What it would not receive is free investment capital merely because citizens require access to a payment system. The consequences are significant. Fully backed transaction accounts would remain available on demand and at par. They would not earn an investment return because their owners have assumed no investment risk. Nor would their repayment depend upon the quality of the bank’s commercial portfolio. This is not merely a theological distinction. Modern central banking itself recognises the peculiar character of bank deposits. The Bank of England recently described commercial-bank deposits as liabilities used as money, expected to be redeemable at par on demand and relied upon as a safe store of value. It contrasted them with investment products whose values fluctuate and whose losses are borne by investors. A riba-free financial system should take that distinction seriously. The second category would consist of genuine investment accounts. Here the relationship is entirely different. A customer does not merely park money awaiting payment instructions. He consciously makes capital available for investment and accepts that lawful profit cannot be separated completely from commercial risk. Mudarabah provides one classical framework. One party supplies capital and the other enterprise and expertise. Profit is divided according to an agreed ratio; financial loss, in the absence of negligence or breach by the manager, falls upon the provider of capital. SBP itself explains Islamic investment deposits on this basis: the depositor acts as rabb-ul-maal and the bank as mudarib. Restricted mudarabah allows the investor to specify where the funds may be deployed; unrestricted mudarabah gives the bank wider investment authority. The principle is straightforward. If the depositor wants profit because capital is being employed commercially, the depositor must understand what capital is doing and what risk attaches to it. This is where present banking practice requires closer examination. Islamic banks commonly pool deposits, calculate weighted-average yields and distribute profits under elaborate regulatory rules. SBP presently prescribes profit-distribution arrangements for savings depositors, including minimum distribution requirements linked to the weighted-average gross yield of the institution. It also permits additional hiba in specified circumstances. These measures protect customers against inequitable allocation of profits by banks. Their consumer-protection purpose is understandable. At the same time, an increasingly managed and smoothed return can create in the depositor’s mind an expectation remarkably similar to a conventional savings rate. The crucial question is not whether the return happens to fluctuate by a few basis points. It is whether the depositor actually bears the economic character of an investor. An investment account should identify the pool in