Youth, Extremism, and the Fight for Tomorrow

I first learned to think of rivers as questions of survival, not just geography, from the late Dr. Mohammad Moniruzzaman Miah, the visionary Dhaka University vice-chancellor and geographer whose work shaped a generation of Bangladeshi thinking on transboundary water. In the years when Khaleda Zia’s government stood firm in defending Bangladesh’s water rights, I was part of the technical effort that helped galvanize opposition to India’s proposed 1,500 MW Tipaimukh Dam on the Barak River in Manipur — a fight documented in the broader scholarly record of that transnational resistance movement. That episode taught a lesson Bangladesh cannot afford to forget as it approaches the next deadline in its water diplomacy: December 2026, when the landmark 1996 Ganges Water Treaty expires. The Ganges Treaty, signed in December 1996, was hailed as a diplomatic breakthrough — the first long-term water-sharing arrangement between India and Bangladesh. But thirty years on, its formula looks less like fairness and more like a structural handicap for the downstream nation. Under the treaty, dry-season flow at the Farakka Barrage (January 1 to May 31) is divided in alternating ten-day blocks. When total flow is 70,000 cusecs or less, the two countries split it 50-50. But when flow reaches 75,000 cusecs or more — precisely the scenario Bangladesh needs most, during peak dry-season stress — India takes a fixed 40,000 cusecs off the top, and Bangladesh gets only the remainder. In practice, the treaty guarantees India a floor while leaving Bangladesh’s share to fluctuate with whatever is left. For a delta nation of 175 million people, dependent on the Ganges-Padma system for irrigation, drinking water, fisheries, and salinity control, that asymmetry has never been sustainable. It is even less so now, as climate change intensifies dry-season scarcity and accelerates saline intrusion along the coast. Bangladesh is not asking for charity. It is asking for a renewed, predictable framework that reflects present-day hydrological and demographic realities — not the assumptions of three decades ago. That renewal must also confront a public health emergency that the original treaty never anticipated: the mobilization of naturally occurring arsenic into the very groundwater tens of millions of Bangladeshis depend on for drinking water. The mechanism is worth explaining plainly. Reduced dry-season flow in the Ganges limits natural flushing and recharge of shallow aquifers. Farmers and municipalities, deprived of adequate surface water, turn increasingly to groundwater pumping for irrigation and drinking supply. That heavy extraction alters subsurface flow and oxygen conditions, encouraging microbial processes that break down buried organic carbon and release arsenic bound in iron-rich sediments — arsenic that occurs naturally in the geology of the Bengal delta. It’s important to be precise here: most researchers attribute the origin of this arsenic primarily to natural, geogenic sources within the delta’s Holocene sediments, not to the Farakka Barrage itself. But many Bangladeshi hydrologists and public health researchers argue, credibly, that reduced Ganges flow and the resulting over-reliance on groundwater pumping act as an accelerant — turning a latent geological hazard into an active public health catastrophe. Whatever the precise weighting of causes, the outcome is not in dispute: Bangladesh is living through what the World Health Organization has called the largest mass poisoning of a population in history. The economic toll is staggering and measurable. Studies estimate that arsenic contamination has reduced Bangladesh’s effective rural labor supply by roughly 8 percent — a contraction larger than the labor-market shock the United States experienced during the Great Recession. Projections suggest arsenic-related mortality and morbidity could cost the economy up to $13 billion over twenty years in lost productivity alone. Millions of person-days are lost annually to arsenicosis, and the neurotoxic effects on children threaten the cognitive development of the next generation — a bottleneck on Bangladesh’s long-term growth prospects. Contaminated irrigation water enters the food chain, straining agricultural yields and export credibility. At the household level, families spend hundreds of millions of taka annually on treatment, exhausting savings and pushing the rural poor deeper into poverty. Visible skin lesions bring social stigma, job loss, and marginalization, particularly for women. This is not an abstract environmental dispute; it is a slow-moving national emergency with a very real balance sheet. This debate does not exist in isolation. It sits alongside Bangladesh’s long-stalled push for a Teesta River sharing agreement, another dispute where upstream control and India’s domestic politics — particularly in West Bengal — have repeatedly delayed progress. Dhaka has made clear that a fair, long-term renewal of the Ganges pact is now central to the broader trajectory of India-Bangladesh relations. The two issues are linked in substance as much as in diplomacy: both test whether the region can move from a “mercantile” approach to shared rivers, in which every cusec is treated as a zero-sum resource to be captured upstream, toward an approach that treats water as a shared trust with obligations that flow downstream as well as up. Given this, the renewal of the Ganges Treaty must do more than reallocate cusecs. It must treat adequate, dependable freshwater flow as a public health intervention, not merely an irrigation input. Diluting arsenic concentrations in shallow aquifers, sustaining natural flushing, and reducing pressure to over-pump groundwater all depend on Bangladesh receiving a demonstrably larger and more reliable share of dry-season Ganges flow than the 1996 formula allows. Given the scale of what’s at stake — public health, food security, and the credibility of a 175-million-person delta nation’s future — this renewal should not be negotiated behind closed doors on India’s terms alone. Bangladesh should press for the process to include independent, internationally recognized water and public health experts, convened under UN auspices, to assess minimum flow requirements against verifiable arsenic, salinity, and agricultural data. This is not a call to internationalize a bilateral treaty in perpetuity; it is a call for technical objectivity in setting the numbers that will govern Bangladesh’s water security for the next generation. India, for its part, has its own legitimate claims — competing agricultural demand in West Bengal, and domestic

Every few months, someone declares that people no longer need literature. The argument usually sounds convincing enough. We live in a world of instant news, endless social media, podcasts, and artificial intelligence. Information arrives faster than ever before. Why spend days with a novel when an opinion can be delivered in mere seconds? Yet the strange thing is that the more information we have, the more relevant literature seems to become. Hand someone a novel written a century ago, and they might discover their own world reflected in its pages, including many of the same fears and uncertainties they face today. That is more than a coincidence. It is literature doing exactly what it has always done, peering beyond the moment in which it was written. Literature offers more than a compelling story and reminds us why it continues to resonate till date. Many admire literature for its alluring language and craft. Others value it for the evolutionary nature and futuristic tendencies. That’s the side this leans toward. Literature stays with us because it explains the world we’re still trying to make sense of. Every generation believes its experiences are unique. Pandemics feel unprecedented, propaganda seems like a modern invention and the world today evolves at a pace that feels unlike anything before it. Yet long before any of this dominated the headlines, writers had already imagined it, warned about it, or lived through versions of it themselves. Literature does not simply reflect its own era. It reaches far beyond it, exploring aspects of human nature that continue to surface despite changing circumstances. When COVID-19 hit in 2020, thousands of readers picked up a novel from 1947 and discovered echoes of the present. Albert Camus’s The Plague, set in the Algerian city of Oran, seemed to describe their own lives with strange precision; the empty streets, the panic-buying, the denial before the lockdowns, and that eerie numbness that emerged as the crisis dragged on. Camus never saw a pandemic like this coming. What he understood, decades before any of us lived through one, was how people respond when disruption takes hold. George Orwell did something similar, except his warning arrived even earlier. Nineteen Eighty-Four gave us words we now use so casually and forget they came from fiction: surveillance, doublethink, thoughtcrime. Orwell imagined a state where truth could be manipulated and every move was watched. Decades later, in a world run by data and constant tracking, his descriptions still feel eerily familiar. Pakistani writers were making this same point long before it became the world’s concern. Saadat Hasan Manto’s Toba Tek Singh imagined a man stranded between two countries decades before the world started talking about refugees and border crises. Qurratulain Hyder’s Aag Ka Darya traced the same cycle of displacement and rebuilding that we’re still watching today, whether in Gaza, Ukraine, or Afghanistan, revealing how human beings survive conflict no matter which war or which century it happens to be. What makes literature so accurate over time is not mysticism. Writers were not fortune-tellers. They were keen observers of human nature. They sensed that while the world keeps reinventing itself, people rarely do. A writer who understands these instincts deeply enough, produces literature that seems to anticipate futures it was never meant to witness. That same power demands caution. Literature can expose hidden truths just as easily as it can be used as a tool of persuasion. Throughout history, poems, novels, and stories have been used to shape how people think, feel, and behave. Rudyard Kipling’s The White Man’s Burden is a reminder of how easily powerful narratives can turn domination into duty. It shows how persuasive language can make unequal power structures appear virtuous and troubling ideas sound noble. The same dynamic persists today, whenever power seeks a more palatable language to conceal itself. The Soviet Union promoted an entire genre known as socialist realism, where literature was not expected to explore human complexity but to glorify the state and inspire loyalty. Even something as ordinary as a school curriculum works the same way. The books chosen for students are never just neutral stories. They are early lessons that shape young minds, teaching them which histories to trust and which values to hold onto. This is the quiet, manipulative side of literature that doesn’t need to announce itself, yet still decides how an entire generation views the world. Literature deserves more than passive consumption. The same stories that broaden our understanding can also be used to influence and persuade. That makes reading critically, asking who wrote something and why, not just an academic skill, but a way of navigating a world built on narratives. What keeps literature alive is not tradition, nostalgia, or academic praise. It is the moment of recognition it still delivers. When a writer long gone can describe anxieties, conflicts, and dilemmas that feel unmistakably current, how many of our modern concerns are merely old questions in new disguises?

Once again, the debate over the creation of new provinces has surfaced in Pakistan. In every political era, the issue is revived in one form or another. This time, however, there appears to be a growing push for creating additional provinces out of almost every major province in the country. The strongest argument being put forward is that Pakistan’s population was around 70 million in 1972, whereas it has now grown to more than three times that figure. Therefore, it is argued, new provinces have become necessary for administrative convenience. At first glance, this argument may sound convincing. But the real question is: can all of Pakistan’s problems be solved simply by creating new provinces? If population growth alone is a sufficient reason for creating new provinces, then why have all major countries in the world not followed the same path? The real issue is not the number of provinces but the quality of governance, equitable distribution of resources, an empowered local government system, transparent accountability and an effective administrative structure. When the basic system is weak, changing the map does not make the problems disappear. What is particularly concerning is that Punjab appears to be the main target of this debate. At different times, proposals have emerged for a separate South Punjab, Central Punjab and even further divisions. It seems that with every political season, Punjab becomes the centre of the debate over provincial division. This has understandably created a feeling among many Punjabis that the issue may not be merely about administrative reform, but could also weaken Punjab’s historical, cultural and political identity. Punjab is not merely another province. It is one of the strong pillars of Pakistan’s ideological, historical and economic foundations. The land played an important role in the Pakistan Movement, made enormous sacrifices for the defence of the country, strengthened Pakistan’s agriculture and industry, and has always played a key role in the national economy. Repeatedly dragging such a province into a debate over division is neither appropriate nor in the national interest. Those advocating new provinces speak extensively about administrative convenience, but remain largely silent about the financial consequences. Has anyone explained to the public that every new province would require a new governor, chief minister, cabinet, provincial assembly, speaker, deputy speaker, secretariat and numerous government departments? There would also be hundreds of new government positions, official residences, vehicle fleets, security arrangements, protocol and countless other administrative expenses. All of this would require billions of rupees. And ultimately, that money would not come from some separate source. It would come from the taxpayers and the public exchequer. Pakistan is already facing one of the most serious economic challenges in its history. The burden of domestic and external debt remains enormous, while a substantial portion of the national budget is spent every year on debt servicing and interest payments. The country continues to rely on programmes supported by the IMF and other international financial institutions, while ordinary citizens struggle with inflation, unemployment and rising electricity, gas and petrol prices. In such circumstances, would creating new provinces and expanding the size of the ruling and administrative machinery really be an act of national wisdom? Or would it simply place another burden on already stretched national resources? If the genuine objective is to serve the people, the existing system should first be made more effective. Local governments must be empowered, district administrations should be given adequate financial and administrative authority, bureaucratic reforms should be introduced, corruption must be tackled and the equitable distribution of resources must be ensured. If the existing system is not functioning to its full potential, how can simply drawing new boundaries across the map transform the lives of ordinary citizens? The issue of dividing Punjab is not merely administrative. It is also a question of identity. Punjab’s language, culture and heritage have already not received the level of official patronage and protection they deserve. If the geographical unity of Punjab is repeatedly subjected to calls for division, it could further weaken its cultural and historical identity. There is another important question: if population is to be the basis for creating new provinces, why should the same principle not be applied uniformly across the country? Will this criterion apply equally to every province, or is Punjab being singled out? National decisions should not be driven by political expediency. They should be based on constitutional requirements, the national interest and broad public consensus. In my view, Pakistan needs a new economic vision, stronger institutions, a fairer system of justice, quality education, better healthcare, greater employment opportunities and effective local governments far more urgently than it needs new provinces. People do not want more rulers; they want better governance. They do not need more official protocol; they need affordable food, quality healthcare, good education and decent employment. As a Pakistani, a journalist and a Punjabi, I believe that dividing Punjab is not in the national interest. Its unity, historical importance and cultural identity should be protected. If we genuinely want to strengthen Pakistan, we should strengthen the system rather than divide provinces, improve governance rather than expand administrative structures, and reduce the problems faced by ordinary citizens instead of placing an additional financial burden on them. The division of Punjab is, in my view, unacceptable. A strong Punjab contributes to a strong Pakistan, and a strong Pakistan should be our shared destination.

There is a common perception among experts that a new world order usually emerges after a world war or a major geopolitical event. Wars are caused by the irrational behavior of existing powers, illegal resource capture, and opposition to rising powers. These factors make the peaceful transition difficult. Thucydides’ Trap further explains the phenomenon. In modern history, World War I and World War II are often quoted as examples.   World War I began after Germany’s exponential growth and emergence as a new economic and global power. Germany’s efforts to enhance its influence further complicated the situation for existing powers such as the British Empire. It threatened them, and they started to conspire against Germany, especially after the launch of the Berlin-Baghdad railway line. The Berlin-Baghdad railway was considered a game-changing initiative for Europe and the Middle East. The British Empire negated it and built alliances with France; Russia, and later on, the USA helped them. World War II is considered a byproduct of the 1930s economic recession, Germany’s reemergence, Britain’s declining power, and the USA’s emergence as a new economic and global powerhouse.   World War I resulted in the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and Germany. It laid the first stone of the new empire, the USA. President Wilson tried to build on the fallen Empires and create a new world order through the League of Nations, but it could not sustain itself and ended with World War II. World War II ended with the collapse of Germany and the end of the two empires, the UK and Japan. After World War II, the USA emerged as a global empire and began crafting a new world order. Fortunately, it had the support of the USSR and China, which helped it create a new world order. However, after building a new world order, the USA turned against the USSR, and China laid the foundation of the Cold War Era.   The new system was built to continue the exploitation, but with new tools and strategies. With the end of World War II and the rise of freedom movements, the Western powers realized that the age of occupation and colonization had passed. It is not possible to enslave people physically. Thus, they pondered what new ways of controlling people should be. They identified the economy as a leading tool. Hence, they began devising tools to control the global economy. In the beginning, they leveraged the West’s production capacity to dominate the global economy. With the advent of globalization, they introduced tools to control supply chains and dominate markets by exerting absolute control over intellectual property rights, market rulemaking, and non-tariff barriers such as human rights, democracy, and the environment.  It led to the weaponization of the economy.   Simultaneously, they initiated the process to strengthen control over the financial system. The Bretton Woods institutions helped the USA and the West to dominate the global financial system. The US$ further consolidated its dominance as the leading global currency of global trade and reserves. Unfortunately, they also weaponized the global financial system.   However, with the dawn of the 21st century, they started to realize that new economic, technological, and trade powerhouses are emerging. These will challenge their dominance and exploitation. The rapid development and trade progress of the Global South further deepened their fears. China’s advances in technology and innovation made them worry about their future. However, China’s emergence as an alternative economic, trade, and technological power, challenging Western dominance in these areas, antagonized them.  After the launch of global initiatives such as GDI, GSI, BRI, GCI, GGI, AIIB, CIIE, and CIFTIS, among others, the West took off its gloves and began openly opposing China.   The West is opposing China, especially its BRI and technological aspects, just like the British and other powers opposed Germany’s rise and the Berlin-Baghdad railway line just before World War I. Therefore, many experts believe that the world is living under the threat of a looming third world war.   However, another school of thought claims the world is already in World War III, with different parameters. This time the battlefield would be trade, technology, and financial systems, as mentioned by an expert from Russia, Ms. Daria Para.   According to this theory, the world is already at war. President Trump has already intensified the trade war. He is using it as a tool to extract maximum benefit and consolidate the USA’s dominance over the global economic system. The USA is also not allowing any country to surpass it in the field of technology. First, in the late 90s and early 2000s, it compelled Japan to give up its dream of technological leadership. Now, the USA is doing everything to undermine Chinese advancements. It is sanctioning Chinese companies and compelling other nations to cut or restrict relations with China. Even the USA is creating challenges for Chinese students, as it considers them essential to technological development. Hence, admissions have dropped significantly. The USA has also weaponized the financial sector and is using it to penalize countries.   The war in these areas is deeply impacting humanity. It is aggravating inequality, food insecurity, and human suffering. This time, people are dying of malnutrition, unsafe water, poverty, and lack of opportunities for livelihoods, not with bullets or bombs. It is more painful and leaves lasting impacts on those who survive. Unfortunately, the war is intensifying in these fields. It is feared that soon it will lead to a hot war. First glimpses are already visible from the Iran-USA conflict, Russia-Ukraine conflict, regime change in Venezuela, blockade of Cuba, and conflicts in many other countries.   However, China and the Global South are still making every effort to avoid a third world war and create a new world order through reforms. The demand for reforms is rational and genuine, as due to flaws and inefficiencies of the existing order, inequality and poverty are on the rise and the world is facing the existential threat of climate change.

The historical and cultural affinities between Pakistan and Turkiye have long provided a foundation for cooperation in diverse fields. In recent years, this relationship has increasingly extended to the sphere of higher education, where Turkiye has emerged as a significant destination for Pakistani students. The confluence of geographical proximity, shared religious and cultural values, and the expanding academic infrastructure in Turkiye has made it an attractive alternative to traditional destinations in Europe and North America. This shift is not merely a matter of student mobility but also reflects a broader attempt to institutionalize academic linkages between the two countries. Turkiye currently hosts more than 208 universities, of which 129 are public and 79 are private. A number of these institutions, including Middle East Technical University, Boğaziçi University, Istanbul University, and Koç University, are recognized in international rankings and maintain active research programs. The Turkish higher education system operates within the framework of the Bologna Process, which ensures compatibility with European academic standards and facilitates the international recognition of degrees. This structural alignment, combined with the availability of English-medium programs in many universities, has lowered barriers for international students, including those from Pakistan. The internationalization of Turkish higher education is reflected in the enrollment of over 300,000 foreign students from more than 170 countries. Pakistani students constitute a growing segment of this population, with estimates ranging between 8,000 and 10,000. The annual growth rate of Pakistani student enrollment in Turkiye is approximately 20 percent, indicating a sustained interest. Several factors contribute to this trend. First, the Türkiye Bursları program, administered by the Turkish government, provides comprehensive support that includes tuition, accommodation, health insurance, monthly stipend, and airfare. Each year, more than 500 Pakistani students benefit from this program. Second, the cost of education in Turkish public universities remains comparatively low, with annual fees ranging from 300 to 800 US dollars. Private universities offer programs between 2,000 and 6,000 US dollars annually. Third, admission procedures are relatively accessible, as many institutions do not require standardized tests such as the SAT or GRE. Additionally, the linguistic affinity between Urdu and Turkish, with over a thousand shared words, eases the process of language acquisition for Pakistani students. The academic fields that attract Pakistani students are diverse. Engineering and technology, particularly in areas such as artificial intelligence, robotics, and civil engineering, are in high demand. Medical and pharmaceutical sciences also draw significant interest, given Turkiye’s advanced healthcare infrastructure and research facilities. Other prominent fields include Islamic studies, international relations, social sciences, and media and communication. The latter has gained particular attention following the global popularity of Turkish television dramas, which has increased cultural familiarity and academic interest in media studies. Beyond student mobility, the potential for institutional collaboration between Pakistan and Turkiye remains considerable. The Higher Education Commission of Pakistan and the Turkish Council of Higher Education – YÖK have entered into agreements to promote academic exchange. Several Pakistani universities, including NUST and COMSATS, have signed memoranda of understanding with Turkish institutions to facilitate student and faculty exchange. These initiatives, while still limited in scope, provide a basis for deeper engagement. Joint research projects represent another avenue of cooperation. Turkiye’s strengths in defense technology, renewable energy, and urban development complement Pakistan’s expertise in agriculture, water resource management, and nuclear science. Collaborative research in these areas could address shared regional challenges and contribute to technological advancement in both countries. The development of dual-degree programs is another promising direction. Such programs would allow students to earn degrees from institutions in both Pakistan and Turkiye, thereby enhancing the global portability of their qualifications. Faculty exchange programs could further support this process by enabling the sharing of pedagogical approaches and research methodologies. Additionally, the establishment of language and cultural centers, such as Urdu departments in Turkish universities and Turkish language institutes in Pakistan, would strengthen intercultural understanding and provide linguistic support for students and researchers. In conclusion, Turkiye offers Pakistani students an opportunity to pursue quality higher education in an environment that is both academically rigorous and culturally familiar. The combination of affordable tuition, scholarship support, and institutional compatibility makes Turkiye a viable alternative to more expensive destinations. At the same time, the expansion of academic linkages between Pakistani and Turkish universities has the potential to contribute to broader cooperation in education, research, and technology. For Pakistani students, studying in Turkiye represents not only an academic pursuit but also participation in the strengthening of bilateral relations between two countries with shared historical and cultural ties.

The first part of this series argued that Pakistan’s recurring fiscal crises cannot be understood through conventional economic analysis alone. The distinction between public finance and Constitutional Political Economy (CPE) must now be explained. Both examine the role of the state in economic life, but they begin from different assumptions and ask fundamentally different questions. Traditional public finance is primarily concerned with what governments ought to do. In the classical framework associated with Richard Musgrave, fiscal policy performs three principal functions: allocation of resources, redistribution of income and macroeconomic stabilisation. Governments provide public goods, correct market failures, reduce unacceptable inequalities and use taxation and expenditure to promote stability and growth. This framework remains indispensable for analysing budgets, taxes and public expenditure. The International Monetary Fund’s discussion of Musgrave’s framework confirms its enduring influence on fiscal analysis. The difficulty arises when the state is treated as a single, impartial institution pursuing social welfare. In the real world, governments consist of politicians, bureaucrats, legislators, judges, regulators and numerous organised interests. Each operates under incentives and constraints. Political actors do not cease to pursue power, institutional advantage or personal interest merely because they enter public office. A tax system may therefore be inefficient not because its designers misunderstood economic theory, but because inefficiency benefits influential constituencies. An exemption may survive not because it promotes investment, but because its beneficiaries possess political power. Public expenditure may be allocated not according to social need, but according to the ability of institutions and groups to influence the budgetary process. Public finance generally asks: what tax would be efficient, equitable and productive? CPE asks a prior question: what political and constitutional arrangements will cause those in authority to adopt and administer such a tax fairly? This difference emerged most clearly in the work of James M. Buchanan, who was awarded the 1986 Nobel Prize for developing the contractual and constitutional foundations of economic and political decision-making. Buchanan argued that economists must specify their model of politics before recommending policies. They should examine the “constitution of economic polity”—the rules and constraints within which political actors make decisions—rather than assuming that government automatically acts as a benevolent guardian of collective welfare. In The Calculus of Consent, Buchanan and Gordon Tullock applied economic reasoning to collective decision-making. They distinguished between choices made within existing rules and choices concerning the rules themselves. Ordinary politics concerns decisions taken under established constitutional arrangements. Constitutional political economy examines how those arrangements should be designed, whose consent they require and what incentives they create. The distinction may be understood through the analogy of a game. Public finance often studies the moves made by players: whether a tax rate should be increased, expenditure reduced, subsidies withdrawn or borrowing limited. CPE examines the rules of the game: who may impose a tax, who may approve expenditure, how revenues are distributed, what majorities are required, which institutions are accountable and what remedies exist when power is abused. The rules determine the range of possible outcomes. Replacing one finance minister, tax administrator or economic adviser cannot fundamentally alter results if the institutional incentives remain unchanged. Buchanan and Geoffrey Brennan developed this insight further in The Reason of Rules. Their focus was not merely upon particular policy choices but upon the rules governing political and market interaction. CPE therefore does not ask only whether a government policy appears desirable. It asks whether the institutional process through which it is adopted protects citizens against arbitrary, discriminatory or predatory use of power. This approach does not imply hostility towards the state. A capable state is essential for education, healthcare, infrastructure, environmental protection, social security and economic development. CPE merely refuses to assume that state power will automatically be exercised for these purposes. A strong state without constitutional restraints may become strong against ordinary citizens while remaining weak before powerful interests. These insights are neither exclusively modern nor exclusively Western. Centuries before the emergence of public choice theory, Ibn Khaldun analysed taxation as part of the broader rise and decline of states. He observed that governments in their earlier stages could obtain substantial revenues from relatively moderate assessments, whereas later rulers frequently imposed heavier burdens but collected less as incentives weakened, production contracted and coercive expenditure expanded. Arthur B. Laffer subsequently acknowledged that the proposition associated with the Laffer Curve was not his invention and specifically identified Ibn Khaldun as an important precursor. Ibn Khaldun’s contribution, however, went far beyond a relationship between tax rates and revenue: he connected fiscal policy with political legitimacy, administrative expansion, elite consumption and institutional decline. The Constitution of Pakistan itself demonstrates that taxation is not merely an economic instrument. Article 77 provides that no federal tax may be levied except by or under the authority of an Act of Parliament. The provision embodies the constitutional principle that taxation requires lawful legislative authority; it is not simply an administrative technique for raising revenue. Article 160 creates the National Finance Commission and provides the framework for distributing specified revenues between the Federation and the provinces. Article 160(3A) further protects the provincial share by declaring that it cannot be lower than that provided under the preceding Award. These provisions represent a constitutional bargain concerning political authority, federalism and access to public resources. Revenue distribution is consequently not just an accounting exercise. It forms part of the structure of the federation itself. Article 140A requires the provinces to establish elected local governments and devolve political, administrative and financial responsibility to them. Fiscal policy cannot produce accountable public services when decision-making remains remote from citizens and constitutionally required devolution is treated as optional. Articles 37 and 38 contain important commitments regarding social justice, education, economic well-being, reduction of inequality and provision of basic necessities. They are Principles of Policy rather than directly enforceable Fundamental Rights, and Article 30 limits their judicial enforceability. Their inclusion nevertheless demonstrates that the constitutional purposes of revenue collection extend beyond achievement of numerical tax targets. The state collects resources to fulfil social and economic obligations, not