The Ugly Truth of Bacha Bazi

By Ayesha Jamil Rao The recent protests led by the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) have reignited debate over the state of governance and education in India. Backed by students, artists, educators, public intellectuals, and activists including education reformer Sonam Wangchuk. The movement reflects not only dissatisfaction with education policy but also growing concern about the functioning of public institutions. For many protesters, the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan marked a symbolic victory. Yet it also raises a more fundamental question: has anything truly changed, or has one political actor simply been replaced by another operating within the same institutional framework? Replacing an individual rarely changes the character of an institution. At most, it creates a vacancy for someone else to occupy the same office. History repeatedly shows that leaders who enter politics with reformist ambitions can gradually become defenders of the very system they once challenged. Dharmendra Pradhan’s own political journey illustrates this paradox. As a student, he participated in protests against irregularities in the 1986 Odisha Board examinations. Decades later, he found himself at the centre of another wave of student discontent. His story is a reminder that institutions often shape leaders more profoundly than leaders reshape institutions. If that is true, then meaningful political change requires more than replacing ministers or governments; it requires reforming the institutions through which power is exercised. India is far from unique in facing this dilemma. Democracies across the world have witnessed protest movements that successfully remove leaders but struggle to transform the institutions that produced them. Bangladesh’s 2024 student-led movement offers one of the clearest recent examples. What began as opposition to the quota system for public-sector jobs gained momentum after inflammatory remarks by Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina toward protesters. The movement eventually culminated in Hasina’s resignation and the formation of an interim government under Nobel Peace Prize laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus. It also compelled the authorities to reduce the controversial quota allocation from 56 percent to 7 percent. These were significant achievements. Yet history reminds us that changing a government is not the same as changing a political system. The departure of a leader does not automatically reform the institutions that enabled that leader to accumulate power. The Bangladeshi experience raises a broader question. Why do youth-led movements repeatedly succeed in bringing down governments but struggle to transform the institutions that generated the public grievances in the first place? The answer lies in the slow nature of democratic decline. Democracies seldom collapse overnight. More often, they weaken gradually as institutions become vulnerable to political capture, allowing successive governments to consolidate power regardless of who occupies office. This pattern can be seen in India’s debates over institutional accountability, Bangladesh’s uncertain transition, and Pakistan’s recurring cycles of political instability. Public discourse often centres on individual leaders, while far less attention is given to strengthening the constitutional, judicial, electoral, and administrative structures that determine how political power is exercised. As a result, governments change, but the deeper institutional weaknesses remain. None of this diminishes the importance of protest. Public demonstrations remain one of democracy’s most powerful instruments of accountability and, in many cases, the only effective means available to citizens confronting unresponsive governments. The challenge, however, is to ensure that protests do more than produce changes in political leadership. Their long-term success should be measured by whether they make it harder for any future government—regardless of ideology or electoral mandate—to manipulate state institutions for partisan advantage. The lessons extend beyond South Asia. The Arab Spring demonstrated both the promise and the limitations of revolutionary politics. Popular uprisings removed long-standing rulers in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen, but the outcomes differed dramatically. Tunisia initially achieved a negotiated constitutional transition. Egypt saw the return of military dominance. Libya descended into prolonged civil conflict, while Yemen entered one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises. Together, these experiences underscore an enduring lesson: removing rulers without strengthening institutions rarely produces lasting democratic change. For South Asia, sustainable democratic reform depends less on replacing individual leaders than on rebuilding the institutions that organise political power. Youth movements can play an important role by advocating transitional constitutional and institutional reform commissions that bring together young lawyers, academics, technocrats, policy professionals, and civil society representatives. Their agenda should also include judicial independence, electoral integrity, civil service reform, stronger oversight institutions, and more effective legislative accountability. Digital mobilisation can amplify public grievances, but it cannot by itself draft constitutions, reform public institutions, or build resilient democracies. That requires broad and sustained coalitions involving labour unions, bar councils, journalists, academics, and civil society organisations long after the energy of street protests has faded. Bangladesh’s 2024 movement, alongside similar experiences in India, Pakistan, and the Arab Spring, shows that removing a government is only the first step. Toppling a government is an event; building institutions is a generational project. In the end, the true measure of democratic success is not which leaders fall, but whether stronger institutions emerge in their place.

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

The assault on the Khazina Banda police post in Hangu was not another entry in Pakistan’s grim terrorism ledger. Attackers first struck with explosive-laden quadcopters and then ambushed the post and its reinforcements. Al Jazeera’s initial report put the police death toll at 11, including Deputy Superintendent Diyar Khan, with 28 personnel injured; subsequent local reporting revised the fatalities to nine. Fifteen attackers were reportedly killed. No organisation immediately claimed responsibility. The disputed count does not alter the horror. Men defending the State confronted a privately financed force equipped with drones, explosives and heavy weapons. Hangu should destroy the fiction that terrorism, narcotics and illicit arms are separate problems assigned to separate departments. They form one war economy. Narcotics generate cash; illicit finance launders it; weapons protect routes; militants supply coercion; political and official patronage obstructs investigation. The system survives governments and military operations because Pakistan attacks gunmen without dismantling the business that replenishes them. This was the warning in Pakistan: From Hash to Heroin and, more systematically, in its sequel Pakistan: From Drug-trap to Debt-trap. The Afghan war did not merely push refugees across the border. It created an enduring logistics chain in which weapons travelled one way and opium, heroin and dirty money travelled the other. The jihad (holy war) against the erstwhile Soviet Union was presented as strategic necessity. Its unrecorded balance sheet included extremism, heroin, the Kalashnikov culture, protected smugglers, corrupted institutions and a drug elite wealthy enough to enter respectable business and influence politics. The term “narcoterrorism” is often used carelessly, as if every attack can be attributed to a particular consignment. That is not the proposition. The connection is systemic, not necessarily transactional in every case. Armed groups and criminal syndicates occupy the same spaces, use overlapping routes, brokers, hawala channels and protection arrangements, and profit from weak border governance. Money is fungible. Revenue from smuggling, extortion, narcotics or lawful-looking businesses can buy the same rifle, drone component or safe house. Pakistan helped manufacture this economy through choices made during the General Zia-ul-Haq era and then preserved it through denial. The State celebrated the fighters, tolerated the gun markets and allowed traffickers to convert illicit fortunes into property, commerce and political access. Periodic seizures created the appearance of enforcement, while financiers, facilitators, beneficial owners and patrons largely remained beyond reach. The poor courier was arrested; the network endured. A poppy field was destroyed; no viable crop or market was supplied to the farmer. An addict was criminalised; treatment remained scarce. The spectacle of control substituted for control. Afghanistan’s changed opium economy does not justify complacency. The UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) estimated that cultivation fell by 20 percent in 2025 to 10,200 hectares and production dropped by 32 percent to 296 tonnes, far below pre-ban levels. This is important, but it is not the burial of the drug economy. Stocks, established trafficking routes and accumulated capital, survive a harvest decline. UNODC also warned that synthetic drugs, particularly methamphetamine, were becoming organised crime’s new business model because production is easier to conceal and less dependent on climate. The market adapts faster than bureaucracies. The same adaptation is visible in the air above Hangu. Reuters reported in July 2025 that militants had used commercially acquired quadcopters in at least eight attacks in Bannu and adjoining areas within two and a half months. The provincial police chief acknowledged that the police had no equipment to meet the threat and that militants were better equipped. One year later, weaponised quadcopters helped open a lethal assault on a police post. This was not an unforeseeable innovation. It was an institutional warning ignored until officers paid with their lives. The immediate response followed the familiar script: condemnation, funerals, retaliatory operations and claims that the mastermind had been killed. Removing operational commanders is necessary, but body counts do not measure the destruction of a war economy. If the financier remains solvent, the trafficker keeps his route, the arms supplier retains access, the hawala operator moves the proceeds and the protector remains influential, another commander will emerge. Tactical success without financial and institutional disruption merely changes the names of the dead. Islamabad is entitled to demand that Kabul prevent Afghan territory from being used for attacks. The Taliban government’s denials cannot answer evidence of militant mobility and sanctuary. Pakistan, however, cannot outsource security or erase its history by pointing across the Durand Line. Routes, facilitators, arms stocks, laundering channels and political shields also exist inside Pakistan. A foreign-policy accusation is not a domestic counterterrorism strategy. The starting point must be a permanent national narcoterrorism and illicit-arms fusion centre, not another ornamental committee. It should bring the provincial counterterrorism departments, police, Anti-Narcotics Force (ANF), Federal Investigation Agency (FIA), Customs, Federal Board of Revenue (FBR), Financial Monitoring Unit (FMU) and intelligence agencies onto a common operational platform. Every major terrorist investigation should generate a parallel financial, narcotics, communications and weapons inquiry. Investigators must follow beneficial ownership through real estate, trade misinvoicing, shell companies, cash couriers, hawala networks and virtual assets, freezing and confiscating criminal proceeds through courts and due process. Weapons require the same discipline. Pakistan needs a national register of recovered arms and ammunition, forensic and ballistic databases accessible to provincial police, mandatory tracing of serial numbers and ammunition lots, and public reporting of leakages from official stocks. Border terminals and maritime routes need risk-based scanning rather than theatrical checking. Most urgently, exposed police posts require layered counter-drone protection: detection, electronic countermeasures, hardened positions, trained response teams and protected communications. Sending under-equipped policemen against weaponised drones is not bravery by policy; it is abandonment by the State. Supply-side enforcement must be joined to rural development and public health. Farmers require credible alternative livelihoods, irrigation, credit, storage and assured markets; addicts require treatment, rehabilitation and reintegration. Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, China and Central Asian states need verifiable cooperation on routes, precursor chemicals, laboratories, wanted financiers and arms flows under UN facilitation. Diplomatic declarations should be tested against shared data, inspections, arrests, convictions,

By Mehak Ali Pakistan is a country united by diverse cultures, languages, and provinces. Sindh, Punjab, Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Gilgit-Baltistan, and Azad Jammu and Kashmir together form a nation blessed with breathtaking mountains, mighty rivers, vast deserts, fertile plains, and a strategically significant location. These natural blessings make Pakistan one of the most important countries in South Asia. ‎Yet, despite these advantages, millions of citizens continue to struggle with basic issues. Every day, news headlines report murders, sexual violence, malnutrition, unemployment, floods, illiteracy, inflation, gas shortages, electricity outages, and rising fuel prices. These are not isolated incidents; they are challenges that affect the daily lives of ordinary Pakistanis. ‎Citizens pay taxes with the expectation that the government will provide quality education, healthcare, infrastructure, security, and economic opportunities. When these expectations remain unfulfilled, frustration naturally grows. Good governance is not measured by speeches or publicity but by improvements in the lives of the people. ‎The condition of Sindh, particularly in many rural areas, reflects these concerns. Damaged roads, overflowing garbage, poor sanitation, and inadequate public services make everyday life difficult. Similar concerns are voiced by people in Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and other regions, where many continue to demand better facilities, development, and equal opportunities. ‎Farmers work tirelessly under the scorching sun to feed the nation. Employees spend long hours in offices to support their families. Students invest years in education, yet many remain unemployed even highly qualified graduates and researchers struggle to find suitable jobs. Meanwhile, poverty, heat-related illnesses, and malnutrition continue to claim innocent lives. ‎In a democratic society, peaceful protest is a constitutional right. When citizens raise their voices for justice, development, or equal treatment, they deserve to be heard with dialogue rather than confrontation. The unrest in Azad Jammu and Kashmir reminds us that citizens’ grievances whether related to economic hardships, political representation, or governance must be addressed through dialogue, accountability, and peaceful solutions rather than allowing frustration to turn into violence. Listening to the concerns of the people strengthens democracy and builds trust between the government and its citizens. ‎Despite these challenges, Pakistan remains our home, and we are proud to be Pakistanis. Criticizing shortcomings does not mean we love our country any less. On the contrary, it reflects our hope for a better future. We dream of a Pakistan where every citizen enjoys equal rights, where public resources are used responsibly, where justice prevails, and where no one is left behind because of their province, ethnicity, or economic status. ‎Pakistan has immense potential. What it needs is sincere leadership, transparent governance, and policies that place the welfare of the people above all else. Only then will every citizen be able to say with confidence and pride: Yes, we are Pakistanis, and we are truly united.

For decades, Galiyat has been celebrated as one of Pakistan’s most picturesque mountain regions, renowned for its dense pine forests, breathtaking valleys, pleasant climate and rich biodiversity. Stretching across Nathia Gali, Ayubia, Dunga Gali and neighbouring hill stations, the region has long served as a sanctuary for nature lovers and a cornerstone of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s tourism industry. Today, however, its iconic landscape is undergoing a dramatic transformation. Multi-storey hotels, apartment complexes and commercial buildings are rapidly replacing forests and open green spaces, raising growing concerns among environmentalists, urban planners and local residents that unregulated development is threatening the ecological balance and natural heritage that have defined Galiyat for generations. Over the past decade, multi-storey hotels, apartment complexes and commercial buildings have spread across the region at an unprecedented pace. Hillsides that were once covered with forests and open green spaces are increasingly dominated by reinforced concrete structures. Critics argue that the changing skyline is gradually eroding the natural character that made Galiyat a unique tourist destination. The concerns extend beyond aesthetics. Environmental experts have long warned that excessive construction on steep mountain slopes can increase pressure on fragile ecosystems, reduce forest cover, disrupt natural drainage systems and heighten the risk of soil erosion and landslides. As climate change continues to intensify extreme weather events across northern Pakistan, many believe that poor land-use planning could further increase the vulnerability of mountain communities. These concerns have recently moved beyond public debate and into the corridors of government. A dispute has emerged between the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Adviser on Tourism and senior officials of the Galiyat Development Authority (GDA), bringing renewed attention to the regulation of construction in one of Pakistan’s most environmentally sensitive tourism regions. During a recent visit to Galiyat, the Adviser on Tourism questioned GDA Director General Fawad Khan regarding the allotment of more than five kanals of government land at the Changla Gali Rest Area and the subsequent construction of a hotel on the site. According to officials familiar with the matter, the adviser sought clarification on the legal basis for the allotment and whether all applicable rules and procedures had been followed. The issue gained further attention later the same day when GDA Director General Fawad Khan, Director Administration Noor-ul-Haq and Director Building Control Farukh Jadun submitted requests to the Chief Secretary of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa seeking transfers on what they described as “personal grounds.” The provincial government did not approve the requests, and the officers have continued to serve in their respective positions. The developments have intensified public discussion about how construction projects are approved in Galiyat and whether existing regulatory mechanisms are adequately protecting the region’s environmental heritage. They have also revived broader questions about institutional oversight, enforcement of building regulations and the balance between tourism development and environmental conservation. For many residents, the debate is not simply about individual buildings. It is about the long-term future of a mountain region whose economy depends on preserving the very landscape that continues to attract visitors from across Pakistan and abroad. The controversy surrounding high-rise construction has exposed deeper concerns about governance and regulatory oversight in the Galiyat region. At the centre of the debate are questions over which institution bears primary responsibility for approving construction projects and whether existing laws have been consistently enforced. Speaking in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Provincial Assembly, Tourism Adviser Adil Iqbal announced that he intended to recommend a high-level inquiry to Chief Minister Muhammad Sohail Khan Afridi. According to the adviser, the proposed inquiry would examine how permissions were granted for the construction of high-rise hotels, apartment buildings and other commercial structures that, according to his assessment, may not fully comply with the applicable building regulations. The adviser has argued that preserving Galiyat’s ecological balance is essential not only for environmental reasons but also for the long-term sustainability of the province’s tourism industry. He has maintained that development should proceed within the framework of environmental laws and approved planning regulations. Officials of the Galiyat Development Authority, however, reject suggestions that the authority alone should be held responsible for the current situation. GDA officials maintain that construction approvals in the region are not issued exclusively by their institution. According to the authority, the Tehsil Municipal Administration (TMA), operating under the provincial Local Government Department, also possesses legal authority to approve certain categories of building plans. This overlapping administrative structure has become one of the central issues in the ongoing debate. Critics argue that multiple approval authorities operating under different regulatory frameworks have created uncertainty over accountability. Supporters of regulatory reform believe that overlapping jurisdictions make enforcement difficult and allow developers to exploit differences between separate sets of building rules. The local civil society organisation, Galiyat Tahaffuz Movement, has been among the most vocal critics of the existing regulatory system. Representatives of the movement argue that both the GDA and the TMA have failed to effectively enforce planning regulations designed to protect the region’s fragile mountain environment. According to the organisation, building permits have, in some cases, been issued under political influence or administrative pressure. It further alleges that inconsistencies between separate building regulations have enabled developers to obtain approvals that might not have been possible under a single, uniformly enforced regulatory framework. The movement has repeatedly called for a comprehensive review of construction approvals, greater transparency in land-use decisions and the adoption of uniform building regulations across the Galiyat region. It also advocates stronger environmental impact assessments before permission is granted for major commercial developments. According to government sources, the disagreement between the Tourism Adviser and senior GDA officials has reached the office of Chief Minister Muhammad Sohail Khan Afridi. While the provincial government has not publicly commented on the reported differences, officials familiar with the matter say the administration is attempting to carefully assess the issues before deciding whether to order a formal inquiry. Sources suggest that the government faces a delicate administrative challenge. On one hand, it must respond to concerns regarding environmental protection and regulatory compliance. On the other, it must avoid

A few years back, the 18th Amendment was introduced with the promise that devolution of power is necessary to solve the people’s problems. It was necessary to empower people and bring resources to the ground level to positively impact their lives. The devolution of power was promised through the establishment of strong local governments.    However, devolution stalled at the provincial level.  Provincial governments refused to grant the promised autonomy to local governments. Moreover, local governments do not have financial autonomy at all, which is a prerequisite to empower them. For example, political parties at the provincial level use it to get maximum financial resources and autonomy, but refuse to devolve it to local governments.  Therefore, instead of benefiting people and the country, it has added to problems. Now, it is on the verge of collapse. Many voices ask to roll back the 18th Amendment, and they are justified.     Now the debate has started about creating new provinces, and the size of provinces is portrayed as a problem, as devolution of power and local governments were portrayed before the 18th Amendment. However, before creating new provinces, there is a need to learn from the failure of the 18th Amendment. It is necessary to analyze the reasons for the failure of the 18th Amendment. There can be many reasons, but the most prominent ones were governance and political culture. Thus, there is a need to first understand these before venturing into creating new provinces.    What is governance? There are different ways to define governance, but for me, “governance is an art and a science for satisfying people’s needs, building institutions to protect their interests and life, and keeping people’s aspirations or dreams alive. Governance is a basic ingredient of state-building and sustaining it; rather, it shoulders the existence of the state. Why? Because it ensures justice and social justice, provides security, and protects people from injustice and security threats. It holds true from ancient times to modern statehood. Hence, it is used to measure a country’s success and failure.    Over time, humans have developed different models of governance. In modern history, there are three prominent models: Western, socialist, and empathy-based (Islamic) models. The Western model, based on Liberal democracy, prefers democratic governance, which hinges on elections and accountability. It works through the slogan “government of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Unfortunately, over time, this slogan and accountability began to weaken, and elections alone remain the main component. Moreover, manipulation of the election process and the use of money further weaken the system, as marginalized people get pushed out of the system. Popular slogans, identity, ethnicity, and hate become the driving force.      The socialist model is based on the slogan of people-centric governance and the whole-process people’s democracy. People-centric governance means all policies and actions must be people-oriented, and outcomes must serve the people and bring positive change in their lives. The whole process of people’s democracy means that the interaction between the state and the people is continuous, not just at election time. Moreover, the merit and character of governance actors are determining factors to ensure people-centric governance. This model was invented in China and is practiced there, where it has achieved remarkable success.     The Islamic model hinges on three fundamental pillars: empathy, people, and accountability, in accordance with Sharia law. Empathy and people must be the focus of all policies and actions at all levels. People’s say must matter at all levels. Accountability must be ensured at all levels, without any discrimination. Famous incidents of Hazarat Umer (RA) and Hazarat Ali provide the true essence of accountability and governance. Lastly, the actors of governance must have the highest virtuous character and should not engage in any form of prejudiced behavior. Unfortunately, it is not practiced anywhere in the contemporary world.       From the above comparison, it can be inferred that despite differences in philosophy and actions, the goal of each model remains the same: to serve the people. Serving the people is the key to sustaining power and the state.    Unfortunately, Pakistan does not follow any of these models. Pakistan has its own style of governance, which is a mix of everything, and we cannot say exactly what it is. However, the most prominent features of our governance are relationship-based networks, misuse of power, and a money- and power-driven system. The system is devised through complicated webs of laws, rules, and requirements. It makes the system prone to corruption and rent-seeking behavior, exclusiveness, and clubs of interest groups, which have become common elements. The system operates through money in exchange for favors, business deals, or power and influence, and is facilitated by relationship-based networks.    It has given rise to a new type of governance model: elusive governance. There is no systematic way to plan and execute the plans. Plans are being made for short-term gains, not with proper planning or a futuristic approach. Haphazardness has become the most prominent feature of governance. People and people’s interests are largely missing. Let’s try to understand it with an example from Islamabad, the seat of government.    A few years ago, the Pakistani government initiated the Safe City program. The government spent billions of rupees to complete the Safe City program. It was sold as a program to secure the people. After that, a new government came to power and initiated the construction of signal-free corridors by building underpasses and flyovers. The government again spent billions of rupees to build the signal-free corridors. People were told it was being done to serve them by facilitating mobility. The process is still going on.     After spending hundreds of billions on the Safe City program and signal-free corridors, the government one day decided to install check posts at major points. The installation of check posts severely disrupts traffic flow and puts the lives of hundreds of people at risk across the city every day. Now, a common-sense question is: why do governments spend