Where We Stand: Reflections on Governance and Resp…

Post-Doctorate (Peace Education) International Islamic University Islamabad The trilateral relationship between Pakistan, Türkiye, and Saudi Arabia represents one of the most significant geopolitical partnerships in the Islamic world, with the potential to reshape regional dynamics and contribute meaningfully to global peace and stability. These three nations, each wielding considerable influence in their respective spheres, share common interests rooted in Islamic solidarity, strategic cooperation, and mutual security concerns. As the world navigates increasingly complex challenges including terrorism, economic instability and geopolitical tensions, the collaboration between these three countries offers a pragmatic pathway toward addressing regional conflicts and fostering sustainable development. This essay examines the historical foundations of this trilateral relationship, analyzes the contemporary opportunities and challenges facing these nations, and proposes a comprehensive vision for how Pakistan, Türkiye, and Saudi Arabia can work collectively to promote peace, stability, and prosperity in their regions and beyond. The relationship between Pakistan, Türkiye, and Saudi Arabia is deeply rooted in shared Islamic heritage and Cold War-era strategic alliances. Pakistan and Türkiye have maintain diplomatic relations since Pakistan’s independence in 1947, with both nations viewing themselves as guardians of Islamic values while navigating the complexities of secular governance and regional stability. Saudi Arabia, as the custodian of Islam’s holiest sites and a major regional power, has historically served as a financial and ideological anchor for both Pakistan and Türkiye. These connections intensified during the Soviet-Afghan War when all three nations collaborated to support Afghan resistance movements, establishing patterns of military cooperation and intelligence sharing that persist today. The geographical positioning of these three nations makes their cooperation particularly valuable. Pakistan serves as a bridge between the Middle East and South Asia, Türkiye controls critical waterways and straddles Europe and Asia, while Saudi Arabia dominates the Arabian Peninsula and maintains substantial economic influence globally. Together, they represent a population exceeding 250 million people and combined GDP that makes them economically significant actors in the Islamic world. Their combined military capabilities, particularly Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal and Türkiye’s advanced defense industry, provide them with considerable strategic weight in global affairs. The three nations face remarkably similar security challenges that necessitate coordinated responses. Terrorism, particularly extremist groups operating across borders, poses a persistent threat to all three countries. Pakistan has struggled with militant organizations such as the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan, Türkiye faces challenges from the Kurdistan Workers’ Party and various Islamist extremist groups, while Saudi Arabia confronts threats from Al-Qaeda affiliated organizations and Iranian-backed militias. A coordinated counterterrorism strategy that shares intelligence, coordinates military operations, and implements joint training programs could significantly enhance the security of all three nations while reducing opportunities for terrorist organizations to exploit jurisdictional gaps. Beyond security concerns, these nations share substantial economic interests. The growing middle class in Pakistan, Türkiye advanced manufacturing sector, and Saudi Arabia’s renewable energy ambitions create complementary opportunities for trade and investment. Regional infrastructure projects, such as the Belt and Road Initiative and the proposed Middle Corridor connecting Central Asia to Europe through Türkiye, offer avenues for economic cooperation that could benefit all three countries. Additionally, all three nations recognize the importance of energy security in an increasingly multipolar world, creating opportunities for cooperation in renewable energy development, particularly given Saudi Arabia’s commitment to transitioning away from oil dependency and Türkiye strategic location for energy transit. Recent developments demonstrate growing momentum toward deeper trilateral cooperation The Economic Cooperation Organization, which includes all three nations along with others on the region, has emerged as a platform for discussing trade facilitation and infrastructure development. Pakistan and Türkiye have strengthened military-to-military ties through joint exercises and defense cooperation agreements, while Saudi Arabia has increased its defense: e procurement from both countries and hosted significant diplomatic summits bringing the three nations together. The Shanghai Cooperation Organization also provides a forum where these nations increasingly coordinate on regional security matters. Cultural and educational exchanges have expanded considerably, with increasing numbers of students from all three nations studying in each other’s universities and growing tourism facilitating people-to-people connections. Turkish media has gained significant popularity in Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, while Pakistani cultural products have found audiences in the other two countries, creating soft power synergies that strengthen bilateral ties. These cultural connections help build constituencies within each country that support deeper cooperation and mutual understanding. However, challenges remain in translating political will into concrete outcomes. Bureaucratic inefficiencies, trade barriers, and inconsistent policy implementation have hindered some cooperative initiatives. Additionally, each nation faces domestic political pressures that sometimes constrain their ability to fully commit to trilateral projects. Pakistan’s ongoing economic challenges, Türkiye internal political dynamics, and Saudi Arabia’s regional rivalry with Iran create competing priorities that sometimes divert attention and resources from trilateral initiatives.

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

There is a moment in every negotiation when the mask slips and the real hierarchy of loyalties reveals itself. It happened again recently, in the quiet grammar of a policy condition. If a deal with Iran is good for America, if it stops a war, secures a region, spares American blood and treasure, then it should be pursued on its own terms. It should not need to be laundered through a second question, but what does Israel get out of it? The moment that second question enters the room, the first one has already been answered, and not in America’s favour. This is not a rhetorical trick. It is a structural tell. A foreign policy genuinely organised around American interests does not require the ratification of an ally before it proceeds. It calculates costs, weighs risks, and acts. The insertion of an Israeli veto, soft, implicit, but unmistakable, into decisions that are framed as being about American security is not an alliance functioning normally. It is a client relationship wearing the costume of a partnership, and increasingly, the costume does not fit. I do not say this as someone hostile to alliances. Alliances are the ordinary furniture of statecraft, and no serious analyst begrudges Washington its relationships. What I begrudge, what any honest observer of the last two decades of American foreign policy must eventually begrudge, is the peculiar one-directionality of this particular relationship, in which American strategic autonomy is perpetually available for negotiation, but Israeli strategic autonomy is not. Successive administrations, Democratic and Republican alike, have discovered that the fastest way to kill a sound policy is to let it wander anywhere near Jerusalem’s objections. The Biden administration played this game with a kind of practiced fluency, dressing subservience in the language of “shared values” and “unbreakable bonds.” That the current administration appears to be playing the identical game, merely with a different set of talking points, should trouble anyone who once believed that a change in party might also mean a change in posture. The deeper dishonesty, though, sits beneath the day-to-day theatre of negotiation. It is the elephant that everyone in the room has agreed, by unspoken consensus, not to see. Iran is treated as the singular proliferation emergency of the Middle East, the country whose enrichment levels must be monitored down to the percentage point, whose every centrifuge is a matter of international alarm, whose nuclear ambitions justify sanctions regimes, covert sabotage, and the standing threat of military strikes. And yet a few hundred kilometers away sits a state that has possessed nuclear weapons for more than half a century, has never signed the Non-Proliferation Treaty, has never submitted to an inspection regime of any kind, and whose arsenal is discussed in Western capitals only in the passive voice, if it is discussed at all. Israel’s bomb is an open secret that everyone has agreed to keep. This is not a minor inconsistency. It is the load-bearing hypocrisy of the entire non-proliferation architecture in West Asia. You cannot credibly claim to be pursuing a weapons-of-mass-destruction-free Middle East while exempting, by unspoken convention, the one state in the region that actually has the weapons in question. Every argument marshalled against Iran’s nuclear programme, that a nuclear-armed state destabilizes its neighbors, that it invites arms races, that it holds regional security hostage to the judgment of a single government, applies with at least equal force to Israel, and applies to a country that has, unlike Iran, already used overwhelming force against multiple neighbors within living memory. The asymmetry is not a technical oversight. It is a choice, made and remade by every administration that has declined to place Israel’s arsenal on the table. What this reveals, I think, is that the “Iran obsession,” as it might fairly be called, was never really about proliferation at all. If it were, the conversation would begin with disarmament architecture applied evenhandedly across the region, inspections offered and demanded in both directions, and a serious reckoning with the double standard that has calcified into policy over fifty years. Instead, the Iran file functions as a proxy for a different question entirely, whose security calculus gets to define American Middle East policy. And on that question, the answer has been remarkably consistent regardless of who occupies the Oval Office. None of this is a case for indulging Tehran’s own record, which carries its own list of grievances worth prosecuting honestly, its human rights abuses, its regional proxies, its own history of destabilizing behavior. Clear-eyed criticism of Iran is entirely compatible with clear-eyed criticism of the double standard applied to Israel; the two are not in tension, and pretending otherwise is its own kind of evasion. But a foreign policy that claims the mantle of principle while practicing this degree of selective vision is not principled. It is theatre, and increasingly unconvincing theatre, performed for a domestic audience that is growing visibly tired of the script. The unpopularity of this arrangement is no longer a fringe sentiment. It shows up in polling, in generational splits within America’s own political coalitions, in the rising discomfort even among constituencies that have historically been the most reliable defenders of the relationship. People are noticing the pattern: that policies justified as serving American interests keep bending, at the last moment, toward a different set of interests altogether. They are asking, reasonably, who is actually driving the car. There is also a historical dimension to this that deserves more attention than it usually receives. The pattern of conditioning American policy on Israeli comfort did not begin with Iran, and it will not end there. It runs through decades of vetoed resolutions at the United Nations, through arms transfers that continued uninterrupted even amid documented humanitarian catastrophe, through the quiet understanding that certain questions simply are not to be raised in polite Washington company. Each individual instance can be explained away with its own set of justifications, security concerns, historical debts, domestic political realities. But taken together, across administrations

​As Pakistan celebrates its Independence Day on August 14, the twentieth-century history of the South Asian subcontinent demands a reflective analysis that goes far beyond a mere anti-colonial struggle or a simplistic narrative of imperial power transition. The creation of Pakistan represents a profound, philosophical, and structural saga centered on collective economic survival, uneven development, and the discovery of a modern political identity. Western Orientalists and traditional nationalist historians of India have often tended to reduce the genesis of Pakistan to emotional religious fervor or the peripheral consequence of a British “divide and rule” strategy. However, when analyzed through the prisms of political economy and structural analysis, a distinct reality emerges: the Muslim demand for a separate homeland was fundamentally a rational, material response to systemic economic marginalization, structural imbalances, and the acute objective fear of becoming a permanent minority under Westminster-style majoritarian democracy. This trajectory unfolded with unbroken intellectual, economic, and constitutional continuity from the post-eighteenth-century decline down to the geopolitical remapping of 14th August 1947. ​To comprehend the evolution of Muslim nationalism in South Asia, a rigorous analysis of the post-1857 economic and structural disruption is indispensable. The collapse of the Mughal state and the consolidation of East India Company rule subjected Muslim society to a catastrophic economic crisis rooted in colonial land and fiscal policies. Through the Permanent Settlement of 1793 in the Muslim-majority region of Bengal, traditional landholding rights were systematically stripped from Muslims and transferred to a newly created non-Muslim landed class. As the historian W. W. Hunter observed in his seminal work, The Indian Musalmans, British administrative interventions pushed the Muslims of Bengal—who had previously constituted the ruling elite and agrarian proprietors—into a condition of severe peasant impoverishment and structural decay. This agricultural dislocation was paralleled by institutional disenfranchisement. The replacement of Persian with English as the official language in 1835 instantly alienated the Muslim intelligentsia and professional classes from the bureaucracy, judiciary, and civil service. In his analysis of the post-colonial state, the political economist Hamza Alavi conceptualized this segment as the “salariat”—a bureaucratic-bourgeois element whose economic dislocation and exclusion from state patronage generated deep structural grievances that ultimately fueled the demand for a distinct national identity. ​As industrial and commercial capitalism took root in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, its structure was inherently skewed. India’s emerging indigenous bourgeoisie—comprising Marwari, Gujarati, and Parsi capitalist networks—monopolized banking, insurance, and primary manufacturing. In burgeoning industrial nodes such as Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras, Muslims were largely relegated to the ranks of agrarian labor, petty artisans, or urban proletariats. As economic historian Benjamin Zachariah notes, the nature of Indian industrialization created a stark spatial and structural imbalance: Muslim-majority provinces like Bengal, Punjab, Sindh, and the North-West Frontier became agrarian hinterlands relegated to supplying raw materials—such as jute, cotton, and wheat—for external processing. While Bengal produced the vast majority of the world’s raw jute, the processing mills, financial capital, and commercial profits were strictly concentrated in Calcutta under non-Muslim mercantile ownership. This economic asymmetry solidified a growing realization among Muslims that an integrated, highly centralized economy in a united India would permanently trap them in an exploited periphery. ​Against this backdrop of economic and institutional decline, the intellectual trajectory of Muslim nationalism evolved in a deliberate, phased manner. Sir Syed Ahmad Khan’s Aligarh Movement sought the scientific renaissance and modernizing realignment of Muslim society. As early as the 1880s, Sir Syed critically dissected the mechanics of British parliamentary democracy, arguing that numerical majoritarianism in a multinational, heterogeneous subcontinent would inevitably result in the permanent hegemony of an ethnically and economically dominant majority. By the 1930s, Allama Muhammad Iqbal elevated this political economy argument into a robust philosophical and territorial framework. In his historic 1930 Allahabad Address, Iqbal rejected Western territorial nationalism, asserting that South Asian Muslims constituted a distinct nation in their own right, given their unique socio-legal and cultural matrix. Crucially, Iqbal linked the preservation of Muslim spiritual and cultural identity directly to territorial and economic self-determination in Muslim-majority regions. As political scientist Paul Brass observed through his theoretical lens of instrumentalism, Muslim nationalism in South Asia was not merely an abstract identity movement, but a structured mobilization by an educated, politically conscious elite seeking an equitable distribution of state power and economic resources. ​Translating this intellectual framework into a tangible, international constitutional reality became the historic mission of Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah. Rather than relying on hagiographic narratives, Jinnah’s political evolution must be evaluated through his rigorous legal and constitutional record. As historian Ayesha Jalal demonstrates, Jinnah’s primary objective remained the ironclad safeguarding of the economic, political, and administrative rights of Muslim-majority regions within the subcontinental architecture. For three decades, Jinnah operated as the foremost champion of constitutional guarantees within a united, federal India—evidenced by the Lucknow Pact of 1916 and his Fourteen Points of 1929. However, the centralized ethos of the 1928 Nehru Report, followed by the authoritarian conduct of Congress provincial ministries between 1937 and 1939, forced a decisive paradigm shift in Jinnah’s strategy. The twenty-eight months of Congress rule—marked by educational engineering, discriminatory economic measures, and the marginalization of Muslims in local administrations—proved that paper constitutional guarantees were fragile against an unchecked numerical majority. ​It was from the crucible of this constitutional failure that the Lahore Resolution of 1940 emerged, serving as the definitive blueprint for the creation of Pakistan. Jinnah articulated to the international community that the subcontinental impasse was not a minor minority-majority dispute or a sectarian problem, but an irreconcilable structural conflict between two distinct nations, two differing political economies, and two separate civilizational matrixes. The elections of 1945–46 delivered an overwhelming democratic mandate, confirming that Muslim agrarian masses, merchants, urban laborers, and young professionals unanimously viewed Pakistan as the sole guarantee of their economic emancipation and political sovereignty. Consequently, the Pakistan movement transformed from an elite constitutional debate into a broad-based socio-economic revolution. ​The emergence of Pakistan on August 14, 1947, remains a landmark event in global history, challenging classical theories of post-colonial state formation. It

Many Pakistanis, especially the youth in colleges and universities, while celebrating Independence Day every year (August 14, 2026, marks seventy-ninth), express bafflement as to how a state purportedly created in the name of ‘Islam’ is juxtaposed with the term ‘Republic. They wonder how a Parliament, where majority is not that of theologians, working under Westminster model, retains, amends and enacts mainly Anglo-Saxon laws and yet claims that Shariah is supreme. In Europe and the United States and elsewhere, the term republic connotes a State that precludes monarch and clergy. In our context, the predominant view (though totally misconceived) is that divorced from religion, politics is “changezee” (chaos, anarchy and disorder). جلالِ بادشاہی ہو کہ جمہوری تماشا ہو جدا ہو دیں سیاست سے تو رہ جاتی ہے چنگیزی What poet Dr. Muhammad Iqbal emphasizes in the couplet, Jallah badshahi ho ya jamhori tamasha ho; Juda hon deen siyasat se, to reh jati hai changezee, is that ethics contained in holy Quran should be part and parcel of governance. The majority misconstrue deen (Quranic term seerat-e-mustaqeemright path) as conventional mazhab (religion). By reading the second stanza in isolation, the clergy interprets and insists that politics should only be in the name of their brand of conventional (orthodox) religion. They and many others conveniently ignore the first stanza of the couplet. The couplet unambiguously conveys that whether it is monarchy or democracy, governance sans ethical framework of deen is changezee. With conventional mazhab comes Shariah that is a contentious issue since the adoption of Objectives Resolution of 1949. In a fragmented society marred by sectarian hatred (not merely genuine differences over interpretation of Islamic laws) it has becomes a permanent source of conflicts with claims and counter claims on how to run the State. Ziauddin Sardar (born in Lahore and who left Pakistan in 1960 at the age of nine, now author of not less than fifty books with world-wide acclaim of a public intellectual specialising in Muslim thought) says that if you equate Islam with state, then religion becomes a reason of the state and that state becomes the power of religion. Basically you produce a totalitarian system”. Ziauddin elaborates that the very idea that “Islam is equal to state is a totalitarian equation. We dont have to go very far; we just have to see recent history. Wherever Islam has been equated with state, we have produced totalitarian systems, like Iran, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Afghanistan, you name it”. Of course, Saudi Arabia is now drifting away from influence of clergy, but not monarchy. According to critics of Objectives Resolution, it was a departure from the ideals of Quaid-e-Azam, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, of equality for all citizens and his principles of fair governance. Using it as a ploy, they say that all governments, both military and civilians, managed to convert Pakistan into an exploitative State where ultimately the Shariat Court held land reforms against Islam. According to them, Quaid-e-Azam did not want to make Pakistan a theocratic but certainly an egalitarian state. Objectives Resolution, passed by the first Constituent Assembly on March 12, 1949 under Liaquat Ali Khans leadership is undoubtedly one of the most important documents in the constitutional history of Pakistanit served as preamble for the Constitutions of 1956, 1962 and eventually became part of the 1973 Constitution when the Eighth Amendment was passed in 1985. The proponents of Objectives Resolution claim that it confirms the true genesis of Pakistan by reiterating, Sovereignty of the entire Universe belongs to Allah alone and authority should be delegated to the State through its people under the rules set by Allah”. Therefore, it has become a blend of Islam and Western democracy. Liaquat Ali Khan explained the context of the resolution in his speech delivered in the Constituent Assembly on March 7, 1949 claiming it to be “the most important occasion in the life of this country, next in importance only to the achievement of independence”. He said that we as Muslims believe that authority is vested in Allah Almighty and it should be exercised in accordance with the standards laid down in Islam. He added that this preamble had made it clear that the elected persons would exercise the authority, which is the essence of democracy, and it eliminates the dangers of theocracy. The events that followed proved him wrong as clergy started asserting its own authority instead of that of Allahs by saying religion is what we interpret”. The logical outcomes of the Objectives Resolution were: (a) movement against Ahmadis, (b) clergys campaign against Ayub Khans regime in the name of Islam, (c) support of religious parties and right wing to military crackdown in East Pakistan culminating into dismemberment of the country and (d) Zulfikar Ali Bhuttos compromises with religious leaders. The matter did not end there. It paved the way for an 11-year dictatorial and nightmarish rule [1977-1988] of General Ziaul Haq. Zias legacy was reflected in the formative political years of Mian Nawaz Sharif, three time elected Prime Minster of Pakistan. Military dictator late General Pervez Musharraf who deposed Nawaz Sharif on October 12, 1999, and all others who followed him failed to undo Zias legacyunfortunately since 1977, religious bigotry is haunting us. The militants and terrorists derive their ideological strength from the notion that real authority rests with Allah and they are waging jihad to make Pakistan a true Islamic polity. The Objectives Resolution, being part of our Constitution, though emphasizes existence of a Muslim State based on the principles of justice and equity for all, yet contradicts the concept of a secular State free of any religious obligations. Shariah as body of laws cannot be free of sectarian biases, thus, one cannot reconcile the two conflicting ideas. For example, in Indonesia, the debate whether you can have an Islamic state was a long drawn one with much depth, and they finally reached the conclusion that Islam and politics are linked, not through the state but through a civic society. It means that if you are a

Every 14 August, Pakistan awakens to the familiar colours of green and white. Flags appear on buildings, national songs fill the air, children dress in traditional colours, and speeches once again remind the nation of the sacrifices that accompanied independence. Yet Independence Day is not merely an occasion to celebrate the Pakistan we inherited; it is an opportunity to ask a more demanding question: What have we done with the Pakistan that was entrusted to us? On 14 August 1947, independence transformed millions of lives. Pakistan emerged from one of the most extraordinary political movements of the twentieth century, carrying the hopes of Muslims of the subcontinent for political security, social justice, dignity and the freedom to shape their collective future. Nearly eight decades later, the country possesses a substantial population, strategic importance, nuclear capability, a young generation, a resilient economy and a remarkable human resource. But the distance between Pakistan’s original aspirations and its contemporary realities remains a serious national question. The first mistake would be to interpret patriotism as silence about national shortcomings. Genuine patriotism requires the courage to identify weaknesses as well as the wisdom to recognise achievements. A country cannot strengthen itself by denying its problems. Nor can it progress through perpetual pessimism. Pakistan’s challenge in 2026 is therefore to move beyond both exaggerated self-congratulation and destructive cynicism. The political history of Pakistan demonstrates the consequences of institutional instability, confrontation and the excessive personalisation of politics. Governments have changed, political alliances have shifted, constitutions have been amended, and civilian and non-civilian institutions have repeatedly struggled over the appropriate boundaries of authority. The result has often been a political culture in which winning power becomes more important than strengthening institutions. This is particularly dangerous for a federation as diverse as Pakistan. Punjab, Sindh, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Balochistan, Gilgit-Baltistan and the regions of Azad Jammu and Kashmir possess distinct histories, cultures and political concerns. National unity cannot be imposed through administrative uniformity. It must be constructed through justice, representation, constitutionalism and an equitable distribution of opportunity. The recent political and social tensions surrounding Azad Jammu and Kashmir offer another reminder that national integration cannot depend exclusively upon slogans. Reports of violent protests, deaths and political grievances in the region demonstrate how quickly unresolved questions of representation, economic opportunity and political legitimacy can become matters of national concern. At the same time, the ongoing electoral process indicates that democratic participation remains an important mechanism through which political differences can be addressed. The lesson for Pakistan is broader than any particular political dispute: the federation becomes stronger when citizens believe that institutions listen to them. Religion presents another essential dimension of Pakistan’s identity. The country was created in the name of a political and social vision deeply connected with the religious consciousness of the Muslims of the subcontinent. But Islam cannot be reduced to national symbolism, political slogans or ceremonial references. Its deeper teachings demand justice, honesty, compassion, accountability, dignity and responsibility. The Qur’anic concept of Ummah is fundamentally connected with moral solidarity. It does not mean that differences disappear; rather, it teaches that human beings and communities are bound by principles of justice and mutual responsibility. The Qur’an repeatedly places justice at the centre of social life. Consequently, a religiously inspired Pakistan should not merely ask whether society looks Islamic from the outside. It should ask whether the weak receive justice, whether public resources are protected from corruption, whether the powerful are accountable, whether minorities live with dignity, and whether the poor have meaningful opportunities to improve their lives. Pakistan’s constitutional framework itself reflects this relationship between Islamic values and democratic citizenship. The Objectives Resolution, incorporated into the Constitution, describes democracy, freedom, equality, tolerance and social justice as principles to be observed, while also affirming the rights of minorities to freely profess and practise their religions and develop their cultures. This constitutional balance is important because religious identity and citizenship should not be presented as competing ideas. A confident Islamic state does not need discrimination to demonstrate its faith. It demonstrates its moral strength through justice. Protection of minorities is not a concession to another culture; it is part of the constitutional and ethical responsibility of the state. Pakistan’s social crisis, meanwhile, is perhaps more complicated than its political crisis. Millions of Pakistanis continue to demonstrate extraordinary resilience, entrepreneurship and generosity. Pakistani professionals have achieved distinction around the world, while ordinary citizens routinely support relatives, neighbours and communities in times of hardship. Yet social inequality, unemployment, educational disparities, population pressure, inflationary pressures and unequal access to healthcare continue to limit the potential of a large part of the population. The most important national resource is not the country’s geography, minerals or strategic position. It is its people. A nation with a young population cannot afford an education system that merely produces certificates. Pakistan needs education that produces critical thinkers, scientists, entrepreneurs, skilled workers, ethical professionals and responsible citizens. Artificial intelligence is rapidly transforming economies and professions, making it even more urgent for Pakistan to reform its educational priorities rather than simply expand enrolment. The same principle applies to women and young people. A country cannot speak convincingly about development while large sections of its human capital remain underutilised. Pakistan’s future competitiveness will depend increasingly upon the quality of its education, digital capacity, scientific research, vocational training and entrepreneurial ecosystem. Independence also has an international dimension. Pakistan’s geography has historically placed it at the intersection of major geopolitical interests. Its relationship with China, Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, the Gulf states, the United States, Europe, Afghanistan and other regional partners reflects the complexity of its strategic environment. But the strongest foreign policy is ultimately built upon domestic strength. Economic stability, political credibility, social cohesion and institutional continuity provide a stronger foundation for diplomacy than dependence upon temporary geopolitical alignments. National security, therefore, should be understood in a broader sense. A secure Pakistan is not merely one with strong borders and capable armed forces. It is also a Pakistan where a child can