When Will Childhood Be Safe?

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.

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.

By Qashf Aizdi Justice delayed is justice denied. This phrase has become almost cliché in Pakistan and it unfortunately remains painfully true for millions of litigants who are waiting for their day in court. Every year hundreds of new cases are filed while thousands remain undecided and as a result courtrooms continue to grow more congested and hearings become more infrequent. The unfortunate consequence is that justice moves further out of reach. Time is perhaps the only thing Pakistan’s justice system can no longer afford to lose. The scale of the crisis is reflected in the numbers. According to the Judicial Statistics of Pakistan 2023, more than 2.25 million cases remain pending before courts of Pakistan. During the same year, 4.48 million new cases were instituted while 4.41 million were disposed of, resulting in a 5 percent increase in the overall backlog. The district judiciary alone accounts for 82 percent of all pending cases. With just over 3,100 working judges and judicial officers, each is responsible for more than 700 pending cases, even before accounting for the thousands of new cases filed every year. These figures do not suggest that Pakistan’s judges are idle; rather, they point to a justice system struggling to keep pace with an ever-growing caseload. Civil disputes in Pakistan can often take 10 to 15 years and in some instances even longer, before reaching its conclusion. Court proceedings are routinely delayed by repeated adjournments, cumbersome procedures, paper-based case management and multiple tiers of appeal. Difficulties in serving notices, delays in recording evidence and frequent adjournment requests often leave litigants waiting months before their cases are heard again. Additionally, the consequences of delayed justice extend beyond the courtroom. By the time a case is finally decided, litigants find themselves in a morass of mounting legal costs, lost opportunities and prolonged uncertainty. Every adjournment adds to the financial and emotional burden borne by litigants. A favorable judgment delivered after years of litigation can never fully restore the time, financial stability or peace of mind that has already been obliterated. Article 37(d) of the Constitution of Pakistan obliges the State to ensure inexpensive and expeditious justice. Yet, for many litigants, this constitutional promise often rings hollow. As mounting caseloads continue to overwhelm the judiciary, lengthy delays have become an accepted and vexatious feature of the legal system rather than an exception. Justice that arrives years too late often fails to provide meaningful relief. The immediate explanation is ostensibly straightforward; the number of judges is insufficient to handle the growing caseload. Pakistan has one of the lowest judge-to-population ratios in the region, leaving judges responsible for hundreds and often thousands of matters. Yet the shortage of judges tells only part of the story. Addressing this crisis requires more than appointing additional judges; it demands a more comprehensive approach to resolving disputes. One such reform lies in the greater use of Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR). Cases can be resolved out of court using processes like mediation and arbitration, whereby judges can focus on cases which require formal adjudication. Consequently, ADR works in conjunction with the courts in solving disputes outside of court. The potential of ADR is perhaps best illustrated by the Morgah Valley dispute. Despite taking over 42 years to be settled via litigation, the same case took only two months to settle after being referred to mediation. Though not all disputes are suitable for mediation, this case is an example of the value that comes with the application of ADR at the right time. More importantly, it shows that timely justice is not an impossible ideal but an achievable one when the right mechanisms are used. However, for countless litigants, delay remains the norm as the judiciary continues to grapple with overwhelming caseloads. Repeated adjournments leave litigants facing prolonged uncertainty and growing frustration. Cases pass from one generation to the next and some litigants never live to see the final outcome of disputes they initiated and fought for. Justice should not become an inheritance passed from parents to children. The longer that reform is postponed, the greater the cost to litigants, businesses and public confidence. Pakistan’s courts are running out of time and so are the people waiting for justice. If Pakistan is serious about fulfilling the constitutional vision embodied in Article 37(d) of the Constitution, reducing judicial delays can no longer remain an aspiration, it must become a national priority. Reforming the justice system will require efficient case management, greater use of appropriate dispute resolution mechanisms and a collective commitment to ensuring that justice is delivered when it is needed most. Until then, Pakistan’s courts will continue to run out of the one resource they cannot recover: time.  

Pakistan has debated the elimination of riba—a Quranic term subjected to judicial interpretation and theological discourse but still lacking a precise statutory definition—for decades. Judicial decisions have been delivered, commissions constituted, reports prepared, appeals filed and withdrawn, deadlines announced and Islamic banking expanded. The central intellectual and legislative task, however, remains incomplete. We have not developed a precise, comprehensive and operational definition of the economic practices that must be prohibited. This omission is not merely academic. No financial system can be reconstructed around a prohibition that is expressed only as a moral declaration. A law [Who will draft Riba Prohibition Law? Minute Mirror, April 7, 2026] must identify the transaction, the prohibited increment, the parties affected, the substance to be examined and the consequences of violation. It must also distinguish an unlawful return on money from lawful earnings arising from trade, labour, services, ownership and commercial risk. The first requirement of a serious programme for the elimination of riba is clarity. Riba is commonly translated as interest/usury. This translation is useful but incomplete. Modern interest is one of its most important manifestations, particularly where a lender advances money and contractually claims an additional amount merely because the borrower is allowed time to repay. The prohibition, however, cannot be confined to instruments carrying the label “interest”. Nor can every commercial gain, deferred price or fixed payment be declared riba. The distinction lies in the legal and economic substance of the transaction. Where money is advanced as a loan and the lender is guaranteed an increase over the principal, the return does not arise from ownership of a productive asset, provision of a service, participation in business or exposure to commercial loss. It arises from the loan itself and the passage of time. The borrower must pay the increase whether the borrowed funds generate profit, produce loss, meet a medical emergency or finance bare survival. This asymmetry lies at the heart of the problem. Capital is protected; return is predetermined; risk is shifted to the borrower. Trade operates differently. A trader purchases or produces an asset, assumes the risks of ownership, incurs costs, faces the possibility of loss and sells the asset at a profit. The profit is not earned merely because money has been unavailable to another person for a period. It is connected with property, exchange, enterprise and market risk. Lease income also rests upon a different foundation. An owner permits another person to use an asset while retaining the liabilities associated with ownership. Rent represents consideration for the use of the asset. The arrangement becomes questionable when the supposed owner bears no meaningful ownership risk and the entire structure is merely a cash loan disguised through documents. Partnership profit has another character. Partners combine capital, work, expertise or enterprise. Profit is divided according to an agreed formula permitted by the applicable juristic principles, while financial loss follows the capital placed at risk. A partner cannot lawfully guarantee himself a fixed return upon capital and compel the other partner to bear every commercial loss. These distinctions are recognised, with variations, across the major Muslim schools. They differ on matters such as the permissible relationship between capital contribution and profit-sharing ratios, conditions attached to contracts, possession, agency and the allocation of particular risks. They do not treat every profit as riba. Nor do they permit a partner to convert genuine risk participation into a guaranteed return on money. A modern Prohibition of Riba law must preserve these distinctions. The difficulty is that contemporary finance has developed techniques through which a loan can be divided into several formally separate contracts. An institution may purchase an asset for a few moments, sell it to the customer at a marked-up price, obtain comprehensive security, transfer every economic risk to the customer and calculate its return by reference to the prevailing interest rate. The transaction may satisfy documentary requirements while reproducing the economic substance of conventional lending. The institution receives a predetermined return; the customer bears the commercial risk; and the institution’s temporary ownership exists mainly to legitimise the financing charge. This does not mean that murabaha, ijarah or diminishing musharakah are inherently invalid. Each can serve a legitimate commercial purpose. Murabaha can facilitate an actual purchase where the financier genuinely acquires and assumes responsibility for the asset before selling it. Ijarah can finance the use of an asset where the lessor retains real ownership obligations. Diminishing musharakah can support home ownership where the parties genuinely share ownership and the customer gradually acquires the financier’s units. The problem arises when these contracts are treated as legal devices for guaranteeing the same return that would have been received under an interest-bearing loan. A workable definition must therefore contain both a formal and a substantive test. The formal test will examine the legal category of the contract. The substantive test will determine whether the financier has provided an asset, service or productive participation and whether it has assumed a genuine risk corresponding to its return. This test should not be misunderstood as hostility towards fixed prices. A lawful sale price may be fixed. Rent may be determined in advance. A service fee may be agreed. The existence of a fixed amount does not by itself establish riba. The decisive question is what the payment represents. A fee charged for maintaining an account, transferring funds, valuing property, arranging documentation or providing an identifiable professional service may be legitimate. A “service fee” calculated as a percentage of a loan, increasing with time and unrelated to the actual cost or nature of the service may be interest under another name. The same care is required in relation to delayed payment. A seller, who supplies goods on deferred payment, may charge a price higher than the immediate cash price, provided one price is finally agreed when the contract is concluded. Once the debt has been created, however, an additional amount cannot ordinarily be imposed merely because the debtor requires more time. This is where many modern systems institutionalise exploitation. A

The preceding parts of this series have gradually separated concepts that modern banking has merged. Money used for payments is not the same thing as investment capital. A current account is not economically identical to funds deliberately committed to enterprise. Commercial-bank money creation is not automatically riba, but neither should monetary privilege remain beyond scrutiny. Once these distinctions are accepted, an obvious question arises: how will productive activity actually be financed? No modern economy can function merely by condemning interest. Farmers require seasonal finance. Manufacturers need machinery and working capital. Exporters must bridge the period between production and receipt of foreign proceeds. Families need housing. Governments require infrastructure. Entrepreneurs need capital before their businesses begin earning revenue. A serious alternative to riba must finance all of these activities (see the model of Robobank). The answer is not to replace every conventional loan with musharakah. Nor is it to rename a predetermined financial return as “profit”. Islamic commercial jurisprudence developed several different contractual forms precisely because economic transactions differ. Sale, lease, partnership, advance purchase and manufacturing contracts perform different functions and allocate ownership and risk differently. The real task is to connect financial return with an identifiable economic basis. A useful starting principle is simple: money should not generate a guaranteed return merely because money has been advanced. Return should arise from trade, ownership, service, productive participation or genuine exposure to commercial risk. This does not mean that every legitimate return must fluctuate. A trader may sell an asset for a fixed profit. A landlord may agree a fixed rent. A contractor may charge a predetermined price. A manufacturer may agree in advance to produce goods for a specified consideration. The prohibition of riba does not abolish prices. What matters is what stands behind the price. State Bank of Pakistan itself explains murabaha as a sale rather than a loan: the seller acquires a commodity, discloses its cost and sells it at an agreed profit. SBP similarly recognises mudarabah, musharakah, ijarah, salam and istisna as distinct Islamic financing structures. Accounting and Auditing Organization for Islamic Financial Institutions (AAOIFI) maintains separate Shariah standards for murabaha, ijarah, salam, istisna and musharakah precisely because each represents a different legal and commercial relationship. The distinction is fundamental. Consider machinery required by an industrial enterprise. A conventional bank may lend Rs.100 million and require repayment of principal plus interest. Under a genuine murabaha structure, the financier purchases identified machinery, assumes ownership during the relevant period and subsequently sells it to the customer at an agreed deferred price. The return is then legally attached to a sale. This difference has substance only if the financier actually acquires what it claims to sell. Ownership cannot be reduced to a momentary paper entry while every risk, liability and practical responsibility remains with the customer from beginning to end. The same principle applies to ijarah. A financier that purchases machinery, vehicles or other productive assets and leases them to a business may legitimately earn rent because it owns an asset whose use is being transferred. Ownership, however, carries obligations. Structural ownership risks cannot simply be transferred wholesale to the lessee while the financier retains only the right to receive money. The issue is thus not whether rent happens to resemble an interest payment in amount. Economic prices often converge. The decisive issue is whether a genuine lease exists. Housing illustrates the point particularly well. Diminishing musharakah has become one of the major financing techniques used in Islamic banking. Under its proper conception, the financier and customer acquire a property jointly. The customer pays rent for the financier’s share and progressively purchases units of that share until sole ownership is achieved. State Bank of Pakistan (SBP) has long maintained specific Shariah standards governing Sharikat-ul-Milk and diminishing musharakah. This can provide a defensible alternative to an interest-bearing mortgage. Its legitimacy, however, depends upon genuine co-ownership. If the customer bears every cost and risk from the first day, if the bank’s capital is effectively guaranteed irrespective of what happens to the asset, and if the entire arrangement merely reproduces principal plus benchmarked return, the partnership becomes increasingly formal rather than substantive. The same scrutiny is required in agriculture. Agriculture is ill-suited to rigid debt repayment because its returns depend upon weather, crop disease, market prices, water availability and timing. A farmer may incur losses despite diligence and competence. Classical commercial law contains an instrument remarkably suited to this problem: salam. Under salam, the purchaser pays the price in advance for specified goods to be delivered later. The farmer obtains working capital before harvest. The purchaser acquires a commercial claim to the future crop and assumes the market risk associated with buying it in advance. This is not charity. It is trade. Properly developed agricultural salam markets could provide farmers with liquidity without forcing them into compounding debt when crops fail. Warehousing, quality certification, crop insurance or takaful, commodity exchanges and transparent market information would be necessary to make such financing scalable. Istisna can similarly serve manufacturing, construction and infrastructure. A textile mill, irrigation facility, industrial machine and housing project need not be forced into one universal debt contract. Partnership financing becomes important where future returns are uncertain. Musharakah permits parties to combine capital and share results. Mudarabah separates capital from enterprise: one party provides funds and another skill and management. Return is connected with actual economic performance. Their difficulty is equally obvious. Profit-and-loss sharing cannot work where accounts are unreliable, sales remain hidden, related-party transactions are opaque and litigation takes years. A financier unable to determine actual profit will naturally prefer a fixed receivable. Financial reform requires credible accounts, meaningful audit, digital documentation, effective insolvency laws, reliable registries and quick commercial adjudication. Risk sharing cannot flourish where information itself cannot be trusted. There is, however, another question we rarely ask: why must productive finance remain concentrated in a few large banks? History offers an instructive example. Rabobank did not begin as the international institution known today. Its origins were local Dutch farmers’

Climate change is no longer solely an environmental concern, it has become one of the defining economic and trade challenges of the twenty-first century. Around the world, governments are increasingly using market-based mechanisms to reduce greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions while maintaining industrial competitiveness and economic growth. Among these mechanisms, the Emissions Trading System (ETS) has emerged as one of the most effective policy instruments. According to the World Bank’s State and Trends of Carbon Pricing 2026, there are now 87 carbon pricing instruments operating globally, including emissions trading systems and carbon taxes, covering nearly 30 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions. These instruments generated over US$107 billion in public revenues in 2025, demonstrating that carbon pricing has evolved from an environmental policy into an important pillar of economic and fiscal governance. In the case of Pakistan, one that is most vulnerable to climate change, the discourse & discussion on emissions trading has become increasingly pertinent. While Pakistan contributes less than one percent of global greenhouse gas emissions, it remains among the nation’s most severely affected by climate-induced disasters. The catastrophic floods of 2022 alone caused economic losses estimated at more than US$30 billion, highlighting the enormous economic costs of climate vulnerability. As Pakistan seeks to achieve sustainable economic growth while fulfilling its commitments under the Paris Agreement, an Emissions Trading System offers an opportunity to integrate climate action with industrial competitiveness, investment promotion, and long-term economic resilience. An Emissions Trading System, commonly referred to as a cap-and-trade mechanism, establishes a limit on the total amount of greenhouse gas emissions that regulated industries are permitted to emit. Within this overall cap, companies receive or purchase emission allowances that authorize them to emit a specified quantity of carbon dioxide or its equivalent. Firms that reduce their emissions below their allocated limits can sell their unused allowances to companies that exceed their emission caps. This market-based approach creates a financial incentive for industries to invest in cleaner technologies, improve energy efficiency, and reduce emissions while allowing businesses the flexibility to determine the most cost-effective compliance strategy. The success of emissions trading systems across the world demonstrates the growing importance of carbon markets in modern economic management. The European Union Emissions Trading System (EU ETS), launched in 2005, remains the world’s largest multinational carbon market and has significantly reduced emissions from power generation, manufacturing, and aviation. China now operates the world’s largest ETS by emissions covered, initially focusing on the power sector and gradually expanding to additional industries. South Korea, New Zealand, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, Kazakhstan, and several states in the United States and Canada have also established operational emissions trading systems tailored to their economic structures. Collectively, jurisdictions accounting for almost two-thirds of global GDP have either implemented or are actively developing direct carbon pricing mechanisms, signalling that carbon markets are rapidly becoming mainstream economic policy rather than experimental environmental initiatives. Across South Asia, governments are increasingly recognising carbon markets as instruments of economic competitiveness rather than solely environmental regulation. India has initiated the Carbon Credit Trading Scheme (CCTS) while expanding its long-standing Perform, Achieve and Trade (PAT) programme to improve industrial energy efficiency. Bangladesh is developing the institutional and regulatory foundations needed to participate in voluntary carbon markets and future compliance mechanisms. Together, these developments indicate a gradual regional shift towards integrating climate policy with industrial development, trade competitiveness, and sustainable economic growth. Pakistan has also begun laying the foundations for a future carbon market, although the country remains at an early stage of development. The National Climate Change Policy, Pakistan’s updated Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs), and the National Adaptation Plan recognise the importance of market-based mechanisms for reducing emissions. The Ministry of Climate Change and Environmental Coordination, together with development partners including the World Bank, GIZ, UNDP, and the Asian Development Bank, has initiated policy dialogue and capacity-building initiatives aimed at strengthening Pakistan’s carbon market readiness. At the provincial level, Punjab has emerged as the frontrunner in preparing for emissions trading. With technical support from GIZ, the Environment Protection and Climate Change Department and the Planning and Development Board have initiated collaborative efforts to develop the institutional architecture necessary for an Emissions Trading System. These initiatives include the development of emissions inventories, digital Monitoring, Reporting and Verification (MRV) systems, the Green Credit Initiative, and the strengthening of Punjab’s Climate Watch platform to improve emissions monitoring and support evidence-based climate decision-making. Although these initiatives do not yet constitute a formal ETS, they represent important building blocks for a future provincial pilot that could eventually inform the development of a national emissions trading framework. Despite these encouraging developments, Pakistan faces several institutional and technical challenges before an operational ETS can be introduced. Reliable emissions inventories remain incomplete across many industrial sectors, while comprehensive Monitoring, Reporting and Verification systems are still evolving. Institutional responsibilities for climate policy, industrial regulation, energy management, and environmental protection remain fragmented across multiple federal and provincial agencies, requiring stronger coordination. Furthermore, many industries and institutions have limited experience with greenhouse gas accounting, carbon pricing & reporting, emissions verification that highlight the need for substantial technical capacity building. Nevertheless the opportunities created by ETS are significant, not only due to environmental benefits but formulates holistic markets that contribute to the world economy. Carbon market revenues have already crossed the threshold of almost US$30 billion in 2016 to over US$107 billion in 2025, representing the rapid and robust growth of climate finance and green investments worldwide. The European Union’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) signals a new era where carbon compliance is becoming integral to international trade. Although Pakistan’s textile exports are not yet covered, global buyers increasingly demand transparent emissions reporting and low-carbon production. Developing an Emissions Trading System (ETS) and robust Monitoring, Reporting and Verification (MRV) systems will help Pakistani industries strengthen compliance and safeguard export competitiveness. Pakistan stands at a crossroads in its climate and economic development. With an estimated greenhouse gas emissions of around 500 million tonnes of CO2 equivalent (MtCO2e) per year, of which