Imposed War and Imposed Peace Have Failed

A nation’s destiny is not written by chance. It is written by the choices its people and institutions make in times of both crisis and opportunity. Seventy-nine years after independence, Pakistan stands at a decisive juncture. The country holds immense potential: a population of 241.49 million according to the 2023 Digital Census, strategic location at the crossroads of Asia, abundant natural resources, and a society that has repeatedly demonstrated resilience. Yet potential alone does not translate into prosperity. The path forward requires clarity of purpose and action on the fundamental drivers of national advancement. For Pakistan, five factors stand out as decisive: human capital, institutional credibility, economic diversification, technological adoption, and national cohesion. The most urgent factor is human capital. Pakistan is one of the youngest nations in the world. The United Nations Population Fund estimates that 64% of Pakistanis are under the age of 30, and the median age is 20.8 years. This demographic dividend can either accelerate growth or become a liability if left untapped. The World Bank’s Human Capital Index for Pakistan is 0.41, which means a child born today will be only 41% as productive as they could be with full education and health. Closing this gap demands investment that is both broad and deep. Foundational education must be prioritized, technical and vocational training must be aligned with industry, and health and nutrition must be treated as economic inputs, not social expenses. The inclusion of women is non-negotiable. With female labor force participation at 24.1% in 2021, Pakistan is underutilizing half of its talent. McKinsey estimates that advancing gender parity could add $60 billion to Pakistan’s GDP. Every girl in school and every woman in the workforce is a direct contribution to national prosperity. The second factor is institutional credibility. Prosperity is built where people trust that rules are fair, contracts are honored, and merit matters. Pakistan’s economy has shown resilience despite challenges. The State Bank of Pakistan reports GDP at $341.2 billion for FY2025 with projected growth of 3.6%, and remittances hit a record $35.3 billion. IT exports reached $3.55 billion in FY2025, a 24% increase year-on-year. These gains occurred even with regulatory uncertainty and energy constraints. Imagine the scale of investment and innovation if governance were more predictable. This requires digitizing public services, protecting property rights, depoliticizing key institutions, and empowering local governments with resources and accountability. When a young graduate in Multan or a startup founder in Karachi believes the system will reward effort, they will choose to build at home. Third is economic diversification. An economy dependent on a narrow base remains vulnerable. Pakistan must move beyond textiles and remittances toward value-added exports, modern agriculture, and new industries. Agriculture still employs 36.8% of the labor force but contributes less than 23% to GDP, signaling a major productivity gap. Climate change compounds this challenge, with Pakistan ranked 5th on the 2025 Global Climate Risk Index. Investing in climate-smart agriculture, water efficiency, and agri-tech is therefore both an economic and survival imperative. At the same time, the digital economy offers Pakistan its fastest route to high-value growth. With 142.3 million broadband subscribers and internet penetration crossing 54% as of June 2025, the infrastructure for a knowledge economy exists. Pakistan ranked 3rd globally on the 2024 Online Labour Index. Scaling IT exports toward the $15 billion target by 2030 will require tax incentives, venture funding, and global market linkages for startups. The $23.1 million raised by Pakistani startups in 2024, amid a global funding slowdown, proves that investor confidence exists and can be expanded. Fourth is technological adoption and innovation. The world is being reshaped by AI, renewable energy, and advanced manufacturing. Pakistan cannot afford to be a late adopter. The Alternative and Renewable Energy Policy target of 30% renewable share by 2030 must be met to address both energy security and climate risk. Technology must also transform service delivery. Telemedicine, digital payments, and AI in agriculture can bring quality services to remote areas at lower cost. Universities must become hubs of research and industry collaboration. Innovation thrives where there is capital, mentorship, and protection of intellectual property. The state’s role is to create that ecosystem. The fifth and binding factor is national cohesion. Economic policy fails without social trust. Pakistan’s diversity in language, culture, and region is a strength if it is united by a shared commitment to justice and opportunity. Cohesion is built when citizens feel they have an equal stake, when public discourse is grounded in facts, and when achievements in science, sports, and culture are celebrated as national, not regional. A country that trusts itself can make difficult reforms and sustain them. These five factors do not operate in isolation. Better education produces better institutions. Strong institutions attract investment for diversification. Diversification funds technology. Technology creates jobs that strengthen social unity. The absence of one undermines the others. The global context adds urgency. While many nations face aging populations, Pakistan has a 20 to 25 year window to leverage its youth. That window will not remain open indefinitely. Prosperity will not arrive through slogans or external assistance alone. It will come from millions of deliberate acts: a teacher focused on learning, a farmer adopting new techniques, an engineer building solar solutions, a policymaker choosing reform over delay. Pakistan’s history proves that the nation can achieve what seems impossible when it acts with unity and purpose. The factors for progress and prosperity are now clear. What remains is the will to pursue them consistently. If Pakistan invests in its people, strengthens its institutions, diversifies its economy, embraces technology, and unites its society, the next chapter will be one of sustained advancement. The opportunity is here. The responsibility is ours.

A familiar and recurring phantom is once again haunting the political and intellectual horizon of Pakistan: the clamor for administrative redistribution and the carving out of new provinces. Whenever structural collapse, economic decay, and institutional governance reach their absolute nadir, the sanctums of power and the opaque enclaves of the establishment begin to chant a singular, predictable refrain. The root of all systemic malady, we are told, lies in the sheer geographical expanse of our existing provinces, and the ultimate panacea is the relentless division of the state. When one scrutinizes the subterranean motives, logical contradictions, and political expediencies governing this discourse, an uncomfortable truth starkly emerges. This persistent endeavor to shift the blame for chronic misgovernance and policy failure onto geographical boundaries, cultural entities, and ethnic identities is merely a resurrection of a time-worn colonial playbook—a deliberate diversion designed to distract the citizenry from real structural grievances while consolidating the apparatus of absolute control. History bears poignant witness to the reality that whenever ruling elites fail to mask their administrative ineptitude, systemic incompetence, and constitutional deviations, they seek refuge behind the seductive mirage of better governance, transforming the republic into an endless laboratory of reckless experimentation. One is compelled to ask: does any sound mind truly accept the medical wisdom of amputating a limb simply because a malignant ulcer has taken root in the arm? Are the pathologies of governance so superficial that merely redrawing cartographic lines will spontaneously engender distributive justice, institutional merit, the rule of law, and administrative transparency? A careful, unvarnished reading of pre-partition South Asian history reveals that this formula of administrative fragmentation was never a native or democratic innovation. Rather, it was a tested and ruthless instrument of British imperialism, rooted entirely in the cynical philosophy of “Divide and Rule.” In October 1905, when Lord Curzon partitioned the sprawling province of Bengal under the alluring and deceptive banner of administrative efficiency, improved governance, and better public service delivery, the official justification was identical to today’s rhetoric: that managing such a vast demographic mass from a single center was untenable. Yet history dealt a merciless blow to that colonial experiment. The people of Bengal rightly perceived the partition as a direct, existential assault on their linguistic, cultural, and political integrity, rising in fierce and unyielding resistance. Ultimately, the imperial master was forced into an ignominious retreat, revoking the partition of Bengal in 1911. That historical episode remains an enduring monument and a stark warning to contemporary rulers who imagine they can trifle with the collective historical memory, cultural affinity, and geographical unity of a populace under the intoxicating influence of unchecked power. From the very inception of Pakistan, the ruling classes consistently spurned the genuine principles of cooperative federalism, choosing instead to enshrine coercive and authoritarian centralism as the ultimate guarantee of their survival. During the formative decades of the republic, when the delicate question of distributing democratic rights among diverse constituent units arose, the dominant factions lacked the political maturity required for a pluralistic state. Instead, they forced all the western provinces and states into an unnatural straitjacket known as the “One Unit” scheme. That dark chapter of authoritarian engineering laid bare the callous indifference of the ruling elite toward the historical identities and rich diversity of the people, subjugating all societal bonds to the preservation of concentrated power. When that forced administrative edifice eventually fractured under the weight of unrelenting public resistance, the four-province federal structure was reluctantly conceded. Yet the true spirit of federalism was never allowed to breathe. The constitutional imperatives of provincial autonomy were systematically subverted, resources were inequitably distributed, and the unquenchable thirst for hegemony converted the federation into a fragile, crisis-ridden entity perpetually at war with its own constituent parts. Renowned scholars and theorists of public administration and cooperative federalism universally agree that when any sub-national unit exceeds optimal parameters in territory and population, it inevitably succumbs to bureaucratic inertia and administrative paralysis. According to global academic consensus, effective public service delivery demands a balanced proportional equilibrium between geography and demography, ensuring that the writ of the state and essential services penetrate even the most peripheral districts. However, the high-performing federal democracies of the world—such as the United States, Canada, Australia, or Germany—do not achieve excellence in governance merely because their constituent units happen to be geographically compact. They succeed because they rigorously enforce the foundational principle of **Subsidiarity**, which dictates that governance decisions must always be executed at the lowest possible tier capable of addressing them, rather than being arrogated by a distant center or provincial capital. Conversely, the powerful elite who orchestrate policy from behind the veil in Pakistan remain profoundly detached from this philosophical prerequisite. The core issue here is not the mere physical size of a province; it is the centralization of coercive power, deep-seated fiscal distortions, and a bankrupt political intent. In a country like Pakistan, where provinces already depend abjectly on federal transfers through the National Finance Commission (NFC) Award, attempting to carve out new provinces without addressing the fundamentals of fiscal federalism will only exponentially multiply the economic burden. If one merely replicates provincial capitals, bloated cabinets, and superfluous administrative secretariats without dismantling the underlying corruption, nepotism, and systemic incompetence, the public will find no relief from their miseries. Instead, the state will be pushed deeper into fiscal insolvency and bureaucratic suffocation. This brings us to the most fundamental and inescapable question: if four provinces were to be multiplied into eight, sixteen, or thirty-six administrative units tomorrow, would traditional political parties magically vanish? Would the actors occupying the corridors of power in these new provinces descend from another planet, or would they simply be the identical political dynasties and entrenched interest groups of the Pakistan Peoples Party, the Pakistan Muslim League, or Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf donning new nameplates? When the foundational structural architecture, the prevailing political culture, and the patronage networks of the elite remain utterly unaltered, how can the mere shifting of administrative borders dissolve the cancer of corruption, the

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.

The previous part VIII of this series concluded that a just tax system must satisfy more than the requirements of arithmetic. It must rest upon legislative competence, representative consent, rational classification, due process, protection against arbitrary deprivation, transparent expenditure and effective remedies. Parliament, while levying taxes cannot constitutionalise injustice merely by enacting it. Pakistan’s fiscal crisis will not be resolved by asking citizens to finance an unreformed state through increasingly coercive instruments. A recent book by Dr Hafiz A. Pasha, Fatima Malik and Hafsa Tanveer, Pakistan: Reforming an Inefficient and Inequitable Tax System, provides an appropriate opportunity to carry that argument forward. The volume is ambitious, data-rich and deserving of serious attention. Few recent studies attempt, within a single work, to map federal and provincial taxation, estimate tax gaps through different methodologies, examine incidence across income groups and sectors, evaluate fiscal incentives and finally present a quantified reform programme. Its central diagnosis is familiar but supported by extensive empirical work. Pakistan combines high statutory rates with a low tax-to-GDP ratio, excessive dependence on indirect taxation, pervasive evasion, severe sectoral disparities and weak provincial revenue mobilisation. The authors propose reforms that, in their estimation, can increase the national tax-to-GDP ratio by approximately three percentage points by 2027–28. The principal difficulty lies not in what the book measures. It lies in what the framework of measurement necessarily leaves outside its calculations. The usefulness—and limits—of the tax-gap lens The organising idea of the book is the tax gap. Through cross-country regressions, a representative-tax-system approach, monetary estimates of evasion and bottom-up calculations, the authors conclude that Pakistan possesses the potential to collect approximately three percent of GDP more in taxes. This is analytically valuable. It also risks converting a constitutional and political problem into an accounting exercise. A tax gap is not necessarily a reservoir of revenue waiting to be collected. Parts of it may reflect privileges protected by influential groups. Other parts arise from low productivity, fragmented enterprises, unemployment, weak financial inclusion and the regulatory costs created by the state itself. Informality is not always a voluntary choice made for the purpose of evasion; it can also be a survival strategy in an economy where formalisation invites multiple taxes, withholding obligations, inspections and compliance costs without ensuring reliable public services. Citizens also judge taxation in relation to expenditure. Their reluctance cannot be understood solely as non-compliance when additional revenue appears likely to finance debt servicing, administrative expansion, elite concessions, loss-making state enterprises and politically negotiated subsidies rather than education, healthcare, transport, security of property and equal economic opportunity. The decisive question is consequently not only how much more can be collected. It is who controls the state, who bears its burdens, who receives its rents, and why technically sound reforms repeatedly fail. Public finance asks how the gap should be closed. Constitutional Political Economy asks why the beneficiaries of the existing arrangement would permit it to be closed fairly. The selective fiscal state The book repeatedly recognises the presence of powerful vested interests. It identifies the under-taxation of property, agriculture, wholesale and retail trade, real estate and parts of the services sector. At the same time, it finds a disproportionate burden upon large-scale manufacturing, banking and formal businesses. Its estimate that industry bears taxes equivalent to 23.8 percent of its value added, with the incidence on large-scale manufacturing exceeding 36 percent, is particularly revealing. These figures demonstrate that Pakistan does not suffer from a uniformly low-tax equilibrium. Pakistan has created a selective fiscal state: coercive towards visible and organised taxpayers, accommodating towards politically protected or administratively difficult constituencies. This conclusion should change the design of reform. Where political influence determines the tax structure, another catalogue of proposed rates and bases cannot alter the equilibrium by itself. Reform must address the rules through which fiscal choices are made, concessions are granted and enforcement is selectively applied. A technically perfect proposal remains politically irrelevant when those who must enact it derive power from the arrangements it seeks to dismantle. Withholdingisation is not income taxation The book correctly notes that withholding and advance taxes generate overwhelming part of total income-tax revenue and have failed to eliminate evasion. It also recognises the distortions created by presumptive/mimum taxation and the fragmentation of income into separately taxed blocs. The consequences are more serious than those of an imperfect collection technique. Withholdingisation represents the gradual abandonment of income taxation as a levy on net accretion to economic power. Banks, utility companies, telecom operators, employers, import authorities, registrars and purchasers have been converted into unpaid tax collectors. Gross transactions are taxed without determining actual income, allowable expenditure, losses or the taxpayer’s real capacity to contribute. The revenue authority obtains money without developing the institutional capacity to examine accounts, conduct intelligent audits and establish taxable income. Compliant businesses suffer liquidity costs and wait for adjustments or refunds, while informal and influential sectors remain beyond meaningful assessment. The reform of income taxation must restore the return, assessment and audit as its foundations. Withholding should remain confined to situations where it is a genuine advance payment—principally salaries, dividends, profit on debt and payments to non-residents (mostly covered under tax treaties). It should remain fully adjustable against the final liability. A system based upon extracting money from every visible transaction may achieve collection targets. It cannot be described as a coherent income tax. Contradictions within the reform programme The book advocates broad-basing and criticises presumptive taxation, but later recommends restoration of a one-percent fixed tax on export proceeds. It supports neutrality while proposing a general five-year tax holiday for investment, enhanced deductions for energy costs and other selective allowances. These proposals arise from genuine concerns. Pakistan’s investment rate remains dangerously low, exporters face high energy and financing costs, and industry competes under an unstable exchange-rate and tariff environment. The proposed remedies nevertheless risk recreating the same exceptionalism that has made Pakistan’s tax system discriminatory, unpredictable and vulnerable to lobbying. A fixed tax on export proceeds is not a tax on income. It taxes turnover

Pakistan stands as a living testament to an enduring spiritual and ideological conviction. From its very inception, the rallying cry that unified millions were both simple and profound: “What does Pakistan mean? La ilaha illallah.” Under this banner of faith in the Oneness of Allah, the nation emerged on the world map in 14 August 1947, as a homeland for Muslims of the Subcontinent, guided by the vision of Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah and the philosophical foresight of Allama Iqbal. It was not merely a political endeavour but the realisation of a distinct national identity rooted in Islamic ideals of justice, sovereignty, and unity. Yet the path was fraught with peril. Even before the new state could draw breath, formidable obstacles arose—economic collapse, mass migrations, and external scepticism. Many predicted that its borders would soon dissolve under pressure, but divine will ordained otherwise. Like a ship battling turbulent seas, Pakistan endured and reached the shores of stability through resilience and faith. As the country gained its footing, a landmark gathering in Lahore in February 1974 marked a turning point. The Second Islamic Summit Conference brought together leaders from 38 Muslim nations, including King Faisal of Saudi Arabia, Anwar Sadat of Egypt, and Muammar Gaddafi. Hosted by Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, this assembly transformed individual aspirations into collective strength. Muslims, like fingers joining to form a mighty fist, stood united on a common platform. The summit addressed the aftermath of the 1973 Arab-Israeli war, supported Palestinian and Arab causes, and elevated Pakistan’s stature as a bridge among Islamic nations. From this unity flowed a shared mission that propelled the country forward. Throughout its history, Pakistan has answered calls for global security and the stability of the Islamic world. It earned the honourable distinction of the Fortress of Islam, particularly through its longstanding commitment to safeguarding the Haramain Sharifain. Pakistani troops have served in Saudi Arabia since the 1970s, with deployments in training, advisory, and protective roles—often numbering over 10,000 at peaks, including during the 1990-91 Gulf War. This sacred duty reflects not mere strategy but a religious obligation deeply felt by the nation.  Adversaries, notably neighbouring India, seized every opportunity to portray Pakistan as a failing state. Yet at moments of trial, unseen help arrived. In May 2025, Pakistan demonstrated military prowess that astonished observers, restoring its lost prestige through resolute leadership that honoured the divine trust placed upon it. A landmark Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement with Saudi Arabia, signed on 17 September 2025 in Riyadh by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, formalised decades of brotherhood. This pact declares that any aggression against one is an aggression against both, encompassing comprehensive cooperation in defence, training, technology, and joint deterrence. Reports suggest potential deployment of up to thousands of Pakistani personnel and assets, including JF-17 aircraft, underscoring Pakistan’s role as a steadfast guardian.  Building upon this success, Pakistan has played a constructive mediating role in Gulf tensions, earning widespread appreciation for its balanced diplomacy. Cooperation with Turkey has deepened through bilateral deals in defence and trade, while Kuwait and other regional states have expressed interest in similar partnerships. Pakistan’s armed forces, with approximately 650,000–685,000 active personnel—one of the world’s largest standing armies—alongside an estimated hundreds of nuclear warheads and modern platforms like JF-17 fighters and advanced missiles, provide credible strength to these endeavours.  Looking to the future, Pakistan’s perspective remains one of hope anchored in unity and good intentions. The day is not distant when an alliance of Islamic countries, forged through mutual respect and shared values, may emerge—bearing precedents in the European Union or NATO yet rooted firmly in Islamic principles of solidarity. Such a framework would face formidable obstacles: historical differences, external influences, and economic disparities. Yet with the spirit that carried Pakistan through partition, the 1971 trials, and recent triumphs, it remains achievable. Pakistan, with its strategic location, military capability, and diplomatic bridges—linking South Asia, the Gulf, and beyond—can serve as a pivotal node in this vision. It continues to champion economic cooperation within the OIC, advocate for peace with justice on issues like Palestine and Kashmir, and promote connectivity that benefits the wider ummah. Pakistan’s journey, from ideological birth to its current resurgence, exemplifies faith sustained against the odds. As it advances, the nation carries not only the aspirations of its 250 million people but the hopes of many who see in its endurance a beacon for the Muslim world. With trust in Allah, unity among its ranks, and steadfast resolve, Pakistan is poised to fulfil a greater role in fostering stability, prosperity, and brotherhood across Islamic lands. The future beckons with challenge and opportunity alike; guided by its founding principles, the nation shall meet both with honour.

In the space of a single year, Pakistan has moved from the periphery of Middle Eastern diplomacy to its center. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and army chief Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir have positioned the country as both a mediator between Washington and Tehran and, more recently, a formal treaty partner of Saudi Arabia and Turkey. The result  the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement, signed on August 7 in Islam’s holiest city  marks one of the most consequential shifts in South Asian foreign policy in decades. Yet it also raises hard questions about who is really steering Pakistan’s course, and at what long-term cost.   A war that reshaped the region   The backdrop is a war between the United States and Iran that erupted on February 28, drawing in Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states, Iraqi militias and Yemen’s Houthi movement, and disrupting roughly a fifth of the world’s seaborne energy supplies through the Strait of Hormuz. Missile and drone exchanges reached Saudi cities, unsettling a region that had spent years trying to de-escalate after the 2015 nuclear deal’s collapse.   Pakistan, one of the few states with working channels to both Washington and Tehran, stepped into the gap. Sharif’s government hosted preliminary contacts that produced the so-called Islamabad Memorandum, under which Iran signalled it would not pursue nuclear weapons  a pledge it had already made under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and the 2015 accord  in exchange for a mechanism allowing it to dilute stockpiles of highly enriched uranium. Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian later thanked Islamabad for its “constructive engagement” in securing a ceasefire and agreed to send negotiators to further talks in the Pakistani capital. Analysts at the Washington-based Stimson Center have noted that Munir personally staked considerable political capital on the diplomacy, given how easily it could have collapsed.       The Makkah pact   That mediating role fed directly into last week’s agreement. Saudi Arabia, repeatedly struck during the war by Iranian missiles and by Tehran-aligned forces in Yemen and Iraq, had already signed a bilateral defence pact with Pakistan in September 2025  struck, notably, just over a week after an Israeli strike on Hamas negotiators in Doha rattled Gulf capitals’ confidence in American security guarantees. The Makkah agreement extends that arrangement into a trilateral pact with Turkey, declaring that an armed attack on any one of the three signatories will be treated as an attack on all.   Pakistani officials describe the pact as purely defensive. Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar said this week it was “not directed against any country” and remained open to other regional states. President Asif Ali Zardari called it a reflection of “shared resolve for peace and security,” while Sharif credited Munir’s “tireless efforts” in securing an arrangement he said had been years in the making. For Riyadh and Ankara, the pact offers a hedge against dependence on any single outside power at a moment when American commitments to the region look less certain than they once did. For Pakistan, it offers closer ties with two wealthy allies, a symbolic role as guardian of Islam’s holiest sites, and outsized influence for a country whose economy remains fragile.   Praise, and pointed scepticism   The agreement has been celebrated in much of Pakistan’s domestic media as evidence that the country’s leadership  civilian and military alike  is finally translating decades of geopolitical positioning into tangible strategic weight. Supporters point to a similar dynamic in May, when a brief but intense military confrontation with India ended within days, after which the government promoted Munir to the rare, largely ceremonial rank of Field Marshal, only the second officer in Pakistan’s history to hold it.   But that same promotion has drawn sharp criticism from analysts who see it as part of a broader consolidation of power by the military at the expense of elected institutions. Munir, appointed army chief in November 2022, has presided over a period in which  according to critics including jailed former prime minister Imran Khan’s supporters  courts, the media and Sharif’s own coalition have operated increasingly under military direction, a system some commentators have dubbed a “hybrid regime.” The Middle East Institute has described Munir’s elevation as “a thunderous declaration of the military’s unassailable supremacy,” while other analysts note that his growing role in foreign and economic policy  well beyond the traditional remit of an army chief  blurs the line between civilian governance and military command in a country with a long history of that line collapsing altogether.   What comes next   None of this diminishes the immediate diplomatic achievement: a ceasefire process that, however fragile, has held; a new pact that binds three influential Muslim-majority states more closely together; and a Pakistan that finds itself, for now, indispensable to great-power diplomacy in a region convulsed by war. Whether that translates into durable stability  for the Gulf, for the broader Middle East, or for Pakistan’s own democratic institutions  remains an open question. The coming months, as the Islamabad talks resume and the Makkah pact’s practical implications become clearer, will test whether this new era represents a genuine diplomatic breakthrough or a further tightening of military control dressed in the language of strategic necessity.