The Missing Casualties: Why Pakistan Must Count An…

By Hamza Bio: The author is a student at LUMS from Quetta, Baluchistan, majoring in political science. Cobwebs clung to the corners. Old things lay strewn across the floor. Musty air permeated the room, heavy with a dense smell. And there lay Muntaha, old enough to shoulder a schoolbag, yet young enough to trust that the world outside would not betray her. A seven-year-old child assaulted, raped, and murdered. Was it an aberration, a crime so atrocious that it crossed the bounds of abomination—liable to be dismissed as the work of a depraved mind? Facts offer an utterly different story. Eighteen-month-old Aizal recently met the same fate. Mir Raza, a young IBA graduate and a thriving businessman with a promising life stretching before him, was robbed of his life; his post-mortem examination revealed traces of acid and marks of torture that his body bore. Different names. Different stories. Yet testifying to the same grim pattern that recurs persistently. And perhaps more distressing is our habituation to it: another story breaks, headlines saturate social media feeds, condolences arrive, vacuous promises follow, and eventually, the outrage subsides. Until it happens again. With each gruelling episode, our emotional responses are sapped. That which once transfixed us with horror now hardly unsettles us. The gravity does not diminish; we resign ourselves to the dismal reality. What’s even more disturbing is the gradual erosion of our capacity to acutely realise the weight of these atrocities. This phenomenon ought not to be labelled as apathy. Apathy is much simpler: it is the vacancy of feeling. What we are experiencing is something far more pernicious: a gradual distortion of our senses, recalibrating what we consider shocking. We are undergoing an unconscious normalisation and readjustment to realities that are far from normal. Accustomed to darkness, we watch the very conception of light wither away. We do not cease to care. We require more to feel the same empathy and gravitas that were once instantly evoked. The implications of this shifting baseline are dire. Now for a story to break through, it requires something more heart-rending. It must involve fire, a child, acid, or a lynching to pierce through the noise—although briefly. We have not become cruel; our threshold has changed, filtering out and grading horrors on a curve. And the worst part? We scarcely realise the higher standard that we establish. There is a peculiar cruelty that this readjustment entails. No one consents to feel less over a murdered child, an acid attack, or a sexual assault. It unfolds and creeps in us in increments: one story, one headline, one brutality, one brief sigh. Until the sum of it all is a society that can read about Aizal, Muntaha, and Mir Raza in a single sitting, with its emotional faculties completely exhausted. The prevailing emotion changes from fury to fatigue. What we are surrendering, with each successive case, is not compassion; it is accountability. Accountability when it matters the most, until the headlines fade away from our feeds, the case is buried in the docket, and the victim is swallowed by history—before another name appears to draw another sigh of grief. A society that, though unconsciously, decides to exist beside crimes instead of demanding a reckoning for the culpable is perpetually doomed to remain rife with them because the ability to feel, to question, and to compel accountability has been effectively degraded. The outcome of it all is not that we will turn a blind eye to the horrors; we will grieve—briefly, outrageously, sincerely, and uselessly. Our grief will remain precisely in the same fashion but will fail to prevent such abhorrent acts because the mechanism that might have translated outrage into tangible outcome has been rendered inoperative through the desensitising monotony of repetition. The result? A society that has stopped reacting meaningfully. Brief outcry coupled with a hollow response results in a late, defanged, or no outcome at all. The perpetrators, who may have been deterred by the consequences, now have less to dread. Thus, further crime is bred, and its miscreants emboldened. Desensitization is a distinct peril from the crimes that breed it in the first place. It consistently curtails the cost of crime for everyone still capable of inflicting it. When the very alarm that stirs our conscience has been paralysed, a subtle message is whispered that another child, another toddler, or another youth awaits the same fate as Muntaha, Aizal, or Mir Raza.  

By Ali Haider Iran’s nuclear program has been frequently described as defiance of the West. But the history reveals a different picture. It appears paradoxical that the very infrastructure of the nuclear facilities in Iran was built under the patronage of the Americans during the Cold War period. The project, which initially symbolized cooperation between Washington and Tehran, became one of the most dangerous confrontations in international relations. This transformation demonstrates how alliances shift in geopolitics.   The roots of the Iranian nuclear program can be traced back to the Cold War period in which the United States and the USSR were locked in idealogical and geopolitical rivalry. In 1950s, when the two superpowers were trying to increase their sphere of influence on the planet by establishing new alliances, US President Dwight Eisenhower introduced the initiative “Atoms for Peace” in 1953. On surface level, the program was devoted to the peaceful use of nuclear energy, however, it fulfilled the geopolitical interests of Washington as well. Several countries, including Pakistan, India, Japan, South Korea, Turkey, and Iran get benefited from the program. Yet the degree of aid was dependent on the strategic significance of each country. Iran, under the rule of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, became one of Washington’s closest regional allies. When Mohammad Mossadegh came to power in 1953, he nationalized the Iranian oil industry that ultimately affected British economic interests and aroused American fear that Iran would align with the Soviet Union. In order to save Iran from becoming a Soviet ally, the CIA, along with Britain’s MI6, undertook Operation Ajax, resulting in the ouster of Mossadegh and the restoration of power to the Shah. Such close relations between the United States and Shah Reza Pahlavi facilitated the signing of a civil nuclear cooperation agreement in 1957. The United States helped establish the Tehran Research Reactor, aided Iran with highly-enriched uranium to be used as reactor fuel and provided training to Iranian scientists in American universities. At that time, the nuclear aspirations of Iran did not provoke any concerns in the global community due to the fact that the country was considered a loyal ally of the United States. The technology that is now considered a threat by USA, used to be advertised by Washington itself as a tool of development. The situation changed drastically after the 1979 Islamic Revolution when Shah was overthrown and the Islamic Republic of Iran was created under Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini who pursued the agenda of anti-Americanism. Seizure of the US Embassy in Tehran and the resulting hostage crisis broke off diplomatic relations and transformed allies into bitter enemies. Initially, Iranian leadership suspended its nuclear program, and Khomeini showed religious concerns about it. However, soon the Iran-Iraq War changed the perspective of Iranian leaders.In the ensuing years, Iran started rebuilding its nuclear program with the help of Russia and China, while at the same time pursuing the development of uranium enrichment facilities independently. This dramatic reversal transformed Iran’s nuclear program from a symbol of strategic partnership into a source of deep geopolitical mistrust that continues to shape Western policy toward Tehran. Matters came to a head in 2002, when the National Council of Resistance of Iran revealed the existence of two undeclared facilities, Natanz and Arak. Subsequent inspections of the sites by the International Atomic Energy Agency found no evidence of an active nuclear weapons program, but criticized Iran for not reporting certain nuclear activities before. This became the core of the conflict: the West demanded transparency from Iran, while Iran claimed that its rights were enshrined in the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. Gradually, the situation developed into an international crisis. In 2006, the IAEA referred the case of Iran to the UN Security Council, after which the UN imposed a series of sanctions on Iran for refusing to stop the enrichment program. The US and EU imposed sanctions on Iran and restricted its banking system and oil exports, these sanctions brought Iran’s economy to its knees, causing severe damage to its currency. However, unprecedented economic pressure did not cause Iran to abandon its enrichment program.The Iranian case demonstrates that technological capability alone is rarely the real source of international conflict; rather, it is the absence of trust and transparency that transforms civilian nuclear technology into a geopolitical crisis. In 2015, the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action was signed which was considered the most important non-proliferation deal in the modern world. Iran was willing to place strict limits on the enrichment of uranium, reduce its enriched uranium stocks, and make changes to its nuclear sites in return for the lifting of the sanctions. This deal proved that effective diplomacy can be used to manage the risk of nuclear proliferation instead of coercion. Nonetheless, this was short-lived. The success of the JCPOA, despite its eventual collapse, illustrated that diplomatic engagement can achieve outcomes that years of sanctions and pressure often fail to deliver. In 2018, President Donald Trump left the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action saying that the deal overlooked the ballistic missile program, activities in the region, and the sunset clauses. America re-imposed tough sanctions and put maximum pressure on Iran. This move did not make Iran sign another deal but led Iran to abandon all of its commitments step-by-step and expanded uranium enrichment to levels of up to 60%. Indeed, the nuclear question is still relevant today. The program that was developed with the assistance of the US nearly seven decades ago has now become America’s major concern. Iran claims that its nuclear program is purely peaceful, whereas the US and its Western allies believe that increasing enrichment capacity of the country may pave the way for developing nuclear weapons. Sanctions could not prevent Iran from developing its nuclear capacities, whereas the JCPOA demonstrated that negotiation and transparency measures can be far more efficient in preventing proliferation than coercion. The history of Iran’s nuclear program illustrates two important lessons. First, it is not the technology that causes conflict between states, but mistrust. Second,

On 14 August 1947, Pakistan emerged as a new country with enormous challenges but also extraordinary potential. Seventy-nine years later, the question is not whether Pakistan has achieved anything, it certainly has, but why a country that began with comparable hopes to many newly independent nations has struggled to convert its human and natural potential into sustained prosperity, strong institutions and a secure future. The comparison becomes uncomfortable when we look at countries that began their modern journeys around the same period. Singapore became self-governing in 1959 and independent in 1965. Bangladesh became independent in 1971 after emerging from the same Pakistan that had been created in 1947. Taiwan’s post-war transformation accelerated from the 1950s onward. South Korea, independent since 1948, also started from extraordinary hardship. Their histories are very different from Pakistan’s, so simplistic comparisons would be unfair. Yet they demonstrate one important principle, institutions, continuity, human capital and economic strategy can transform countries even when starting conditions are difficult. Bangladesh is perhaps the most striking comparison because it began as the poorer and more politically disadvantaged wing of Pakistan. In 1971, its future looked extremely uncertain. Today, Bangladesh’s nominal GDP per capita is substantially higher than Pakistan’s, the World Bank reports about $2,593 for Bangladesh compared with about $1,479 for Pakistan in 2024. Bangladesh’s total GDP has also grown larger than Pakistan’s despite having a much smaller land area according to world bank open data. Singapore represents an entirely different model. A small island with few natural resources, it concentrated on competent administration, education, trade, infrastructure, investment and institutional discipline. Its 2024 GDP per capita was approximately $90,674, compared with Pakistan’s approximately $1,479. World bank open data says. Taiwan and South Korea followed another path, export-oriented industrialisation, investment in education and technology, strong state capacity and, eventually, increasingly democratic institutions. These countries did not become successful because their people were inherently more capable than Pakistanis. They created systems that allowed capability to produce results. So what happened to Pakistan? The first failure was institutional continuity. Pakistan spent much of its history moving between civilian governments, military rule, political confrontation and constitutional crises. Instead of allowing institutions to mature, every political transition often became a struggle over who controlled the state. The second failure was the weak rule of law. A country cannot become prosperous when laws are applied selectively, institutions are politicised and citizens do not have equal confidence in justice. Democracy is not merely the holding of elections, it requires constitutional supremacy, independent institutions, accountable government and protection of fundamental rights. The third failure was education and human capital. Pakistan has a huge young population, yet education has too often remained underfunded, unequal and disconnected from the needs of a modern economy. Countries that transformed themselves invested heavily in the quality of their people. Pakistan has frequently treated education as expenditure rather than as the country’s most important investment. The fourth failure was economic inconsistency. Pakistan repeatedly moved between economic models without developing a stable, long-term national strategy. Political governments changed priorities, economic crises produced short-term fixes, dependence on external financing repeatedly returned. Meanwhile, countries such as Bangladesh built globally competitive export sectors, particularly garments, while East Asian economies moved aggressively into manufacturing, technology and high-value exports. The fifth failure was population planning and social development. Pakistan’s population has grown enormously, while economic growth has not consistently kept pace with the needs of its people. The World Bank’s latest figures show Pakistan with a life expectancy of around 68 years, compared with 75 years in Bangladesh and 83 years in Singapore. The sixth failure has been our inability to build a culture of accountability without political revenge. Accountability is essential, but when it becomes a weapon used selectively against political opponents, it destroys trust rather than strengthening the state. The seventh and perhaps deepest failure is that Pakistan repeatedly confused national security with national development. Security is essential, but a nation’s ultimate security comes from educated citizens, a productive economy, social cohesion, constitutional government and opportunities for its young people. Pakistan’s people, however, did not fail Pakistan. Pakistanis have demonstrated remarkable resilience. They built businesses, universities, industries, hospitals, technology companies and a vast overseas community. Millions of Pakistanis work abroad and send billions of dollars home. In 2024, remittances were equivalent to about 9.4% of Pakistan’s GDP, according to the World Bank. The real tragedy is that the capacity of the Pakistani people has repeatedly been greater than the capacity of the systems governing them. Independence was supposed to mean more than freedom from colonial rule. It was supposed to mean dignity, justice, representation and opportunity. After 79 years, Pakistan therefore needs a different question. Not who is responsible for our problems? but what kind of state do we want to become? The answer cannot be another political slogan or another temporary economic package or presidential system of government . Pakistan needs constitutional supremacy, civilian and institutional stability, independent justice, free media, serious investment in education and health, economic continuity, women’s participation in the workforce, export-led growth, technological development and genuine local governance. The comparison with Bangladesh, Singapore, Taiwan and South Korea should not produce humiliation. It should produce reflection. We began with a dream. The unfinished task of Pakistan’s next generation is to turn that dream into functioning institutions, human development and dignity for every citizen. Seventy-nine years after independence, perhaps the most patriotic thing Pakistanis can do is not merely celebrate the birth of the country, but honestly ask why the promise of 1947 has still not reached every Pakistani.

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

The fourth part of this series argued that reforms fail when their design ignores the constitutional rules, institutional incentives and political interests that determine implementation. Pakistan’s problem, however, goes deeper than the capture of individual tax measures. The state itself has gradually become accustomed to obtaining resources through rents rather than creating the conditions for sustained production. A rent is an economic benefit obtained through control over a privilege, resource, regulation or strategic position rather than through corresponding productive activity. Rent-seeking begins when individuals, institutions and organised groups devote their energies to obtaining such benefits from the state instead of producing goods, improving services, developing technology or competing in open markets. Pakistan’s political economy has long rewarded access more generously than enterprise. Access to state land, subsidised credit, protected markets, statutory exemptions, import licences, public contracts, regulatory concessions, tax amnesties, administered prices and preferential treatment has frequently generated returns exceeding those available from productive investment. The result is an economy in which political connections can matter more than innovation, and proximity to authority can be more valuable than efficiency. This system is sustained at two interconnected levels. Domestically, privileged groups compete for benefits distributed through state power. Externally, the state repeatedly seeks resources by converting Pakistan’s strategic location and security relevance into financial assistance, debt rollovers, deposits, concessional oil arrangements and diplomatic support. The interaction between these two levels is central to understanding Pakistan’s continued dependence. External financing is not inherently harmful. Developing countries require foreign capital, technology and access to markets. Borrowing can finance infrastructure and productive capacity that generate future income sufficient to service the debt. Strategic partnerships can provide security and economic opportunities. The problem arises when external inflows substitute for domestic transformation. Pakistan has repeatedly treated foreign exchange availability as proof of economic recovery. Reserves rise after an IMF disbursement, bilateral deposit, commercial loan or rollover. The immediate threat of default recedes. The exchange rate stabilises and the government declares that confidence has returned. The underlying productive structure, however, may remain unchanged. The IMF completed the third review of Pakistan’s Extended Fund Facility in May 2026, permitting immediate disbursements of approximately US$1.1 billion under the EFF and US$220 million under the Resilience and Sustainability Facility.  Total disbursements under the two arrangements consequently reached about US$4.8 billion. The Fund also reported progress in rebuilding reserves and achieving the agreed primary surplus. These developments provide necessary breathing space. They do not constitute economic independence. Recent events offer an unusually clear illustration. Pakistan reportedly requested a US$10 billion exchange-stabilisation facility from the United States after playing a diplomatic role in the Middle Eastern conflict. Economists quoted by Reuters questioned whether fresh financing would address the reforms Islamabad had repeatedly avoided. One analyst described the proposed support as “geopolitical rent”. Pakistan had earlier repaid US$3.5 billion to the United Arab Emirates and obtained a US$3 billion Saudi backstop to help fill the resulting gap.  The episode is not remarkable because Pakistan sought assistance during a difficult external shock. Responsible governments must protect reserves and manage emergencies. Its significance lies in the familiar institutional response: once again, strategic usefulness is expected to generate the liquidity required to postpone a deeper restructuring of the economy. However, fresh liquidity can purchase time. It cannot manufacture productivity. Pakistan’s external relationships have repeatedly followed this pattern. During the Cold War, the country received assistance because of its strategic position. The Afghan war transformed Pakistan into a frontline state and brought large flows of military and economic support. The post-2001 “war on terror” renewed the same bargain under different circumstances. Regional conflicts, security alliances and diplomatic mediation continue to create opportunities for financial support. Each inflow temporarily relaxes the pressure for reform. It also strengthens those institutions capable of negotiating and managing the strategic bargain. The constitutional consequence is profound. A state financed substantially through its citizens must negotiate with them. It requires a productive economy capable of generating taxable income and a political order capable of securing broad consent. A state able to obtain resources externally can delay that negotiation. This is one reason why taxation and representation cannot be separated. Dependence upon external rents weakens the fiscal relationship between citizen and state. Governments remain less accountable to taxpayers when foreign creditors, strategic partners and captive domestic sectors provide the resources necessary for survival.  The burden of adjustment is then transferred to those lacking political protection. Salaried persons face deduction before receiving their income. Documented businesses encounter withholding taxes, minimum taxes, advance taxes and delayed refunds.  Consumers pay indirect taxes and levies through electricity, fuel, telecommunications and ordinary purchases.  Powerful sectors negotiate exemptions, reduced rates, amnesties or deferred enforcement. External rents and domestic privileges are therefore not separate distortions. They reinforce each other. The article, “The age of implosion: exhaustion and the hollow core”, recently published in Business Recorder, offers a useful metaphor for this condition. It argues that financial movement can create the appearance of vitality while the productive foundations of the economy continue to weaken. Loans, deposits and other inflows may keep institutions operating outwardly even when their inner capacity is being exhausted.  The metaphor requires institutional precision. Pakistan has not ceased functioning. Taxes are collected, budgets are passed, debt is serviced, imports continue and administrative structures remain active. The state survives through a combination of borrowing, external support, remittances, taxation of captive sectors and periodic transfer of costs to future generations. This should not be mistaken for resilience. It is deferred adjustment.  The official Pakistan Economic Survey 2025–26 continues to organise the country’s performance through conventional categories of growth, investment, trade, fiscal development, public debt and social indicators. These measurements are necessary, but they do not fully capture the political mechanisms determining why available resources flow towards consumption, protection and rent extraction rather than productivity, human development and technological advancement.  A rent-based economy also shapes the behaviour of the private sector. Businesses rationally adapt to the incentives created by the state. Where profits depend upon tariff protection, regulatory discretion, government contracts,

The Part VI of this series argued that Pakistan cannot escape dependency merely by improving tax administration. Better value added taxation, digital integration and fiscal coordination are necessary, but they cannot substitute for constitutional restraints, accountable government and dismantling of systems of privilege. The same intellectual caution must be applied to the history of economic thought. Conventional accounts often move from Greek philosophy to European scholasticism, mercantilism, Adam Smith and modern economics, leaving several centuries of Muslim intellectual activity in an unexplained gap. This omission creates the false impression that systematic thinking about taxation, markets, money, public expenditure, state responsibility and economic justice developed almost exclusively in the West. Muslim scholars did not describe their work as “economics” in the modern sense. Economic questions appeared within jurisprudence, ethics, administration, history and political philosophy. Imposing contemporary categories upon them would be anachronistic. Excluding their contributions from the history of economic ideas is equally indefensible. Modern scholarship has documented a substantial body of Muslim economic thought that conventional textbooks have frequently overlooked. The purpose is not to replace a Western monopoly with a Muslim one. Knowledge has always travelled across cultures as common heritage of mankind. Muslim thinkers drew upon Islamic sources, practical experience and Greek, Persian, Roman and Indian traditions. Their works were subsequently transmitted, debated and transformed in other intellectual settings. The proper objective is to restore missing pages to a shared human history. One of the earliest important works on public revenue was Abu Yusuf’s Kitab al-Kharaj. It did not treat taxation as a ruler’s unrestricted right to maximise extraction. Tax liability had to take account of productive capacity, conditions of the land and the taxpayer’s ability to bear the burden. Abu Yusuf preferred proportional agricultural taxation where a fixed assessment would become oppressive in a poor harvest and unduly favourable during exceptional production. He insisted that collectors should be honest, collection economical and taxpayers treated justly. He opposed arrangements capable of turning revenue collection into tyranny and also emphasised irrigation, transportation and other infrastructure necessary for production. This was more than tax administration. It was an early recognition that revenue depends upon institutions, incentives and the conduct of public officials. A tax may be lawful in form and oppressive in operation. The character of the collector, method of assessment and use of revenue are therefore integral to the legitimacy of taxation. Pakistan’s fiscal debate still struggles to absorb this elementary insight. In the Land of Pure, tax laws are judged by the amounts they collect, while blocked refunds, arbitrary demands, compliance costs and damage to productive capacity are treated as secondary matters. Revenue obtained by weakening the taxpayer is celebrated as administrative success. Abu Yusuf’s approach reverses the perspective: the state must preserve the source from which sustainable revenue arises. Al-Ghazali examined markets, exchange, specialisation, division of labour, money and the interdependence of economic activities. He explained that production of even an ordinary item required the cooperation of numerous workers performing specialised functions. His examples involving bread and needle-making appeared centuries before Adam Smith’s famous pin factory. He also recognised that markets emerge from mutual need and voluntary exchange, while public authority remains necessary to maintain justice and prevent harmful practices. Economic development was not separated from education, security, infrastructure and public welfare. Prosperity, justice and legitimate political authority formed parts of an interdependent social order. This understanding is richer than the artificial contest often presented between state and market. Markets require rules, trust, reliable money and protection against fraud. The state must provide these conditions without converting regulation into a mechanism for distributing arbitrary favours. Ibn Taymiyyah similarly distinguished between price increases produced by changes in supply and demand and those caused by injustice, hoarding or monopoly. Not every increase in price justified administrative interference. Market forces had to be understood before intervention was attempted. Intervention became necessary where concentrated power allowed monopolists to exploit the public. Ibn Taymiyyah therefore combined recognition of market mechanisms with restraint upon abuse—an approach far removed from both indiscriminate price control and unregulated private coercion. Pakistan repeatedly swings between these extremes. Governments interfere through administered prices, selective subsidies and discretionary regulation, while tolerating cartels, protected industries and barriers to competition. The result is not a free market or an effective developmental state. It is a negotiated market in which access to authority frequently determines economic advantage. Al-Maqrizi’s analysis of monetary debasement and inflation provides another striking antecedent. Writing in the context of monetary disorder, scarcity and maladministration, he connected the excessive issue of inferior money with rising prices, disruption of exchange and hardship for the population. Ibn Taymiyyah had also warned that circulation of currencies with different intrinsic values could drive better money out of use. The instruments have changed. Modern states no longer depend upon metallic coins in the same manner. The underlying warning remains relevant: governments cannot conceal fiscal disorder indefinitely through manipulation of money. Inflation transfers resources without transparent legislative approval and imposes its harshest burden upon those least able to protect their savings and incomes. The most comprehensive contribution came from Ibn Khaldun. His Muqaddimah connected taxation with state formation, political authority, incentives, production, public expenditure, urban development, elite luxury and dynastic decline. Ibn Khaldun observed that during the earlier stages of a dynasty, moderate assessments could generate substantial revenue because economic activity remained vigorous. As ruling establishments expanded, expenditure increased and elites became accustomed to luxury, new taxes and higher rates were imposed. Productive incentives weakened, the tax base contracted and larger assessments produced smaller revenues. Arthur Laffer expressly acknowledged this antecedent in 2004, writing: “The Laffer Curve, by the way, was not invented by me”. He immediately referred to Ibn Khaldun’s analysis of high assessments and declining revenue. Laffer also mentioned other predecessors, so historical accuracy requires us to describe Ibn Khaldun as a major antecedent rather than the sole originator of the idea. Reducing Ibn Khaldun to the Laffer Curve would nevertheless diminish his contribution. His argument was not merely that tax cuts