The verses below are translated from a poem by one of the most influential poets of the early Abbasid era - Abu al-Atahiya (130H - 213H) a poet of asceticism, wisdom, and stark existential truth.

Keep in mind, as you read these verses, that the man who composed them went to his grave some 600 years ago. His words live on.

Your yearning eyes betray you, O rebellious heart

As good and evil approach and retreat

Is there, for a soul that sins, a repentance pure enough to cleanse?

How shall hearts be mended when they are open wounds?

It is God’s Mercy that sins do not reek

Else the covered among us would be exposed

How often have we seen the mighty brought low

When the call of time announced their departure

The death of some is deliverance for others

All become, someday, a body with no soul

Between the eyes of the living waves the pennant of death

We wander heedless while death comes and goes

Denizens of the Dunya raise their cups morning and evening

They roam in garments of brocade, and wake wrapped in coarse wool

All who challenge time will one day be challenged

Weep for yourself, poor soul, if you must weep

You will die even if you live as long as Noah

I have tried to find fitting language to render the meaning of the poem in English. But of course, no translation can capture the charm, power and moving eloquence of the original Arabic.

The original Arabic verses are at this link

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Not many would dispute that a variety of the problems Pakistan faces today, and indeed has faced in the past, is due to the underwhelming performance of our bureaucracy. The question that comes to mind is: Why does our bureaucracy underperform?

To answer this question, we need to appreciate that when people say “bureaucracy” they are conflating a system of governance, bureaucracy, with the people who work in it, bureaucrats.

To understand what is going wrong one has to look at these conflated elements separately: Brittanica defines bureaucracy as a “specific form of organization defined by complexity, division of labour, permanence, professional management, hierarchical coordination and control, strict chain of command, and legal authority.”

Max Weber, the German philosopher known for his study of bureaucracy, believed “that the advantage of bureaucracy was that it was the most technically proficient form of organization, possessing specialized expertise, certainty, continuity and unity.” And here there is an implied definition of a bureaucrat as a person possessing specialized expertise.

So where is the problem? Is it in bureaucracy the system, or in bureaucrats the people? I would argue that it is more in the system than in the people.

Aspiring civil servants in Pakistan must pass the Central Superior Services (CSS) exam. This is a rigorous multistage process intended to recruit people for Pakistan’s elite civil services. The process begins with an initial multiple choice test screening test. Those who qualify go on to take a comprehensive written exam which consists of 12 papers. Subjects include for example English essay writing, current affairs, political science, law and so on.

This is a very competitive merit-based process. Of the fifteen thousand or so candidates who took the exam in 2024 a total of only 229 were selected – a 2.5% pass rate indicating the extreme competitiveness of the exam.

Given this highly selective process it is clear that only the best and brightest are selected. So the problem it would appear is not in the people per se. It seems to begin with the process that follows selection.

At some point candidates are assigned, based on preference, merit and availability to one of several “services”. These include, for example, Pakistan Administrative Service (PAS), Foreign Service of Pakistan (FSP), and Police Service of Pakistan (PSP).

All successful candidates go through a six-month course at the Civil Services Academy called the Common Training Program (CTP). This is a fairly general program covering subjects such as law, economics, IT, and office management. This is followed by a 6-to-12-month course tailored to the needs of the respective services to which the candidates have been assigned.

So after a year or so these newly minted bureaucrats are ready to take on the world. Notice that all of them have had a fairly general education in diverse subjects. Contrast this to professional education in for example, engineering, medicine, finance, sciences and the likes and it clear that it takes many years for professionals to earn their spurs.

And herein lies the problem. People who have been given only a relatively brief, general education are suddenly put into positions of authority which require years of training, expertise and experience.

The problem is compounded by the constant periodic rotation of officers from one agency to another. So, for example, an officer assigned to the agriculture ministry can be transferred the next day to the petroleum ministry and then to the finance ministry and then to the science ministry and so on. And it is expected that he or she will be the master of the new discipline on day one.

This is where bureaucracy, the system, fails these young bureaucrats. They are bright. But not superhuman. Expecting that one of them can one day run the nation’s agricultural policy, the next day its petroleum organizations and the following day the railroad network is to ask for disaster. And this is precisely what is happening in Pakistan and why the system is failing to deliver.

In a nutshell we have put woefully unprepared generalists in positions of power that need highly specialized education, training and years of experience.

Unfortunately, the system that we have in place for our civil servants has been inherited relatively unchanged from what it was in colonial times. What we don’t seem to realize or choose to ignore is that times have changed. We cannot afford to hold onto the lore of generalists of the past in an age of specialization.

So what can be done to right this wrong? First, let’s not blame our bright young bureaucrats who get to where they get on the basis of merit and competence.

While there is much that needs to be changed in the system one simple change can go a long way to fixing what is wrong:

Make it mandatory, when a young officer fresh out of the Civil Services Academy is assigned to a ministry, that she spends her entire career in the same ministry. So someone assigned, for example, to the finance ministry stays there until retirement. This will allow the officer to develop, through experience and training, the specialized skill set that is now need for matters of global finance.

So that when she faces a polished, highly trained investment banker or minions of the IMF or World Bank or any other professional from the private sector, she can look them in the eye as an equal in knowledge and experience. This will ensure that Pakistan does not get sold down the road. The same goes for all other ministries Sometimes the simplest of solutions lead to the most significant of outcomes.

Recall that Max Weber held that the “possession of specialized expertise” was one of the advantages of a bureaucracy. And it is precisely the system’s failure to develop this expertise in its people that has let us down.

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For decades, Pakistan has been caught in a revolving door with the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Since joining in 1950, the country has signed up for 24 IMF programs—one of the highest numbers in the world.

Each time, the pattern is familiar: a financial crisis, a hurried trip to Washington, and a new set of conditions imposed on Islamabad.

While these bailouts have offered short-term relief, they have also locked Pakistan into a cycle of dependency, austerity, and lost opportunities. Looking back, it is worth asking: would Pakistan have been better off without the IMF?

Every few years, Pakistan finds itself in trouble—foreign reserves run low, imports outpace exports, and debt repayments loom. Instead of fixing the underlying problems, the country turns to the IMF for another loan.

These loans are not investments in growth. They are emergency patches to keep the economy afloat. Over time, this reliance has become a habit, even an addiction.

The hard reforms—like fixing the tax system or curbing elite privileges—are postponed because the IMF provides a temporary lifeline.

IMF money always comes with strings attached. Pakistan has been asked, time and again, to cut subsidies, raise taxes, devalue its currency, and slash public spending.

On paper, these measures are meant to stabilize the economy. In reality, they often hit ordinary citizens the hardest.

When fuel and electricity subsidies are cut, prices soar. Inflation spreads through the economy, making food and transport more expensive. Currency devaluations shrink the value of savings and make imports costlier.

For a country that relies heavily on imported energy and machinery, this is a recipe for hardship. Families already struggling to make ends meet are pushed further into poverty.

The social costs are staggering. Budgets for health and education are trimmed to meet IMF targets. Infrastructure projects stall. Jobs disappear.

Each IMF program may satisfy international creditors, but it leaves millions of Pakistanis worse off.

The IMF’s influence has also shaped Pakistan’s industrial path. In the 1980s and 1990s, the Fund pushed policies of trade liberalization and privatization.

Local industries, unprepared for global competition, struggled to survive. Manufacturing stagnated, and Pakistan failed to build a strong export base.

Instead of nurturing domestic industries, IMF programs encouraged imports. The textile sector, once a national strength, faced stiff competition from cheaper goods abroad.

Privatization often meant selling state assets at bargain prices, enriching a small elite while weakening the public sector. The promise of modernization turned into a hollow victory.

IMF programs have not only shaped Pakistan’s economy—they have influenced its politics. Governments that implement IMF conditions often face public anger.

Austerity measures are deeply unpopular, and leaders who enforce them risk losing legitimacy.

In the 1990s, several civilian governments saw their IMF programs collapse due to poor compliance, further fueling instability.

More troubling is the erosion of sovereignty. Economic decisions are frequently dictated by IMF officials rather than Pakistan’s own policymakers.

Each negotiation reminds the country that its economic destiny is not fully in its own hands.

What if Pakistan had chosen not to rely on the IMF? The road would have been difficult in the short term. But certainly more rewarding in the long run.

These are the elements of what an indigenous policy would have addressed:

Tax Reform: Pakistan’s tax-to-GDP ratio is among the lowest in the world. A serious effort to broaden the tax base, reduce exemptions for the wealthy, and improve collection could have generated the revenue needed to fund development without external loans.

Agriculture and Industry: By investing in productivity and value-added exports, Pakistan could have reduced its dependence on imports and built a stronger foundation for growth.

Regional Partnerships: Instead of turning to the IMF, Pakistan could have deepened economic ties with neighbors and allies. China’s Belt and Road Initiative, Gulf investments, and South Asian trade could have provided financing and markets without harsh conditionalities.

Gradual Reforms: Sovereignty in policymaking would have allowed Pakistan to pursue gradual, homegrown reforms rather than abrupt shocks imposed from abroad.

Of course, rejecting the IMF would not have been risk-free. Balance of payments crises would have been more severe without external support.

Bilateral aid from countries like Saudi Arabia or China, if available, could have created new dependencies.

Yet these risks may have been preferable to the long-term damage inflicted by IMF austerity cycles. At least Pakistan would have had more agency in shaping its own future.

The lesson from Pakistan’s IMF experience is clear: external bailouts cannot substitute for domestic reform.

Austerity measures imposed from abroad often worsen inequality, push more people into poverty and sow the seeds of social unrest. True stability requires sovereignty in economic policymaking.

Pakistan must now break free from the cycle. This means prioritizing revenue mobilization, investing in industries that can compete globally, and building stronger regional partnerships.

Resort to the IMF should be limited only to extreme emergencies. It should no longer remain the cornerstone of economic strategy.

Pakistan’s long association with the IMF has been costly. It has locked the country into a cycle of debt, austerity, and dependency pushing millions into poverty.

While IMF loans provided temporary relief, they did so at an unjustifiable cost.

A path of self-reliance, regional cooperation, gradual reforms and, yes, self-respect, would certainly have seen a stronger and more independent Pakistan today.

The lesson is simple: true economic stability cannot be imported from Washington or for that matter from Beijing.

It must be built at home, through policies that reflect Pakistan’s own priorities and guarantee the dignity of its people.

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This is a translation of what is thought to be the last sermon delivered by the third Khalifa of Islam Uthmān ibn ʿAffān:1

“Indeed, God has only given you this worldly life so that you may seek through it the Hereafter. He did not give it to you so that you may incline toward it, for the world will perish, and the Hereafter will remain. Do not let this fleeting world deceive you, nor distract you from what is everlasting. So prefer what endures over what passes away, for the world is ephemeral and the final return is to God.

Be aware of God, for His awareness is a protection from His punishment and a means to His closeness. And beware for your unity — do not become factions.

‘And remember God’s favor upon you when you were enemies, and He joined your hearts together, so you became brothers by His grace…’
(Qur’an 3:103, continuing to the end of the two verses).”

There is an interesting historical context to the sermon:

It was delivered near the end of Uthmān’s life, during the period of political turmoil that ultimately led to his assassination in 35 AH (656 CE). The narration reflects the emotional, moral, and political climate of those final days.

To understand the sermon, we need to understand the three major pressures Uthmān was facing:

1. Growing Political Unrest and Factionalism

During Uthmān’s later years, various groups—some politically motivated, some misinformed, some opportunistic—began to stir unrest in different regions of the Muslim world.

• Accusations were spread about administrative decisions.

• Agitators from Egypt, Kufa, and Basra traveled to Madinah.

• Internal unity among Muslims was weakening.

This is why Uthmān says:

“Beware for your unity — do not become factions.”

He was witnessing the earliest signs of political fragmentation in the Muslim ummah. His warning is both spiritual and political: unity is a divine blessing, and division is a path to ruin.

2. A Reminder of the Purpose of Dunya

Uthmān emphasizes that the world is temporary and the Hereafter is permanent:

“God has given you this world only so that you may seek the Hereafter through it…
Do not let the fleeting world deceive you.”

This reflects two realities:

A. His personal awareness of approaching death

He was under siege in his own home. He knew his life was in danger. His words carry the tone of someone preparing the community for a future without him.

B. The moral decline he observed

Some of the unrest was fueled by:

· ambition

· jealousy

· material dissatisfaction

· political opportunism

By reminding people of the temporary nature of dunya, he was urging them to rise above worldly motives.

3. A Call to Taqwa as Protection2

Uthmān says:

“Be aware of God, for His awareness in your mind is a protection from His punishment and a means to His closeness.”

This reflects his belief that spiritual grounding is the only safeguard during times of political chaos.

Taqwa, in his view, is not just personal piety — it is the foundation of social stability. When people lose taqwa, they become vulnerable to manipulation, anger, and division.

4. Quoting Qur’an 3:103 — A Deliberate Choice

Uthmān quotes the verse:

“Remember God’s favour upon you when you were enemies, and He joined your hearts together…”

This verse was revealed about the Aws and Khazraj, two tribes in Madinah who had centuries of conflict before Islam united them.

By invoking this verse, Uthmān was reminding the people:

• You were once divided.

• Islam made you brothers.

• Do not return to pre‑Islamic patterns of conflict.

This was a powerful rhetorical move: he was connecting the current unrest to the dangerous pre‑Islamic tribalism that Islam had abolished.

Why This Sermon Matters Historically

1. It shows Uthmān’s character

He responds to hostility not with anger, but with:

• patience

• moral advice

• reminders of the Hereafter

• calls for unity

His tone is calm, reflective, and deeply spiritual.

2. It captures the emotional atmosphere of Madinah

The city was tense. Rumors were spreading. Delegations were arriving. The Khalifa was besieged. Yet he continued to address the people with dignity and compassion.

3. It foreshadows the tragedy that followed

The sermon’s themes—unity, taqwa, detachment from dunya—are precisely the values that were breaking down among the agitators.

4. It is part of the moral legacy of the early Caliphate

Muslim historians often cite this sermon to illustrate:

• Uthmān’s humility

• his spiritual insight

• his commitment to avoiding bloodshed

• his refusal to respond to rebellion with violence

In Summary

This sermon is not just a religious reminder — it is a farewell message from a Caliph facing internal rebellion. It reflects:

• his awareness of the fragility of worldly life

• his fear for the unity of the Muslim community

• his deep reliance on taqwa as the solution

• his desire to prevent Muslims from falling back into division

It is a window into the final days of one of Islam’s most gentle and principled leaders

1

Source: Ibn Katheer, al-Bidaya wa al-Nihaya (The Beginning and the End), Vol 7, pg 382

Have been reading Ibn Katheer’s epoch spanning chronicle of time entitled: al-Bidaya wa al-Nihaya (The Beginning and The End).

Came across Abu Bakr’s speech (Volume 7, 11AH to 40AH, pages 8 and 9) on his appointment as the first Khalifah of Islam after the Prophet’s death in 11AH.

Was moved by its charm and eloquence (at least in Arabic). Thought would translate for a wider audience.

In fact, I had Copilot do the heavy lifting - which it did in a matter of seconds. Would have taken me a couple of hours if I had to do it.

But have edited it for clarity (Copilot does not get everything right) and in some cases used more fitting vocabulary.

Here is the translation:

Abu Bakr stood before the people, praised God, and glorified Him, then said:

O people, I am one of you, and I do not know — perhaps you may expect from me what the Messenger of God ﷺ was capable of. God chose Muhammad above all people and protected him from afflictions. As for me, I am only a follower, not an innovator. So if I remain upright, follow me; and if I deviate, correct me.

The Messenger of God ﷺ passed away, and no one in this nation can claim against him even the injustice of a single whip‑stroke or anything less.

You go forth in the mornings and return in the evenings within a lifespan whose knowledge has been concealed from you. If you are able to let no day pass except while you are engaged in a righteous deed, then do so — and you will not be able to do that except with God’s help.

Race ahead within the respite of your lifespans before they (your lifespans) deliver you to the end of your deeds. A people before you forgot that their time is limited and they postponed their deeds as if they will do them after they are gone — so beware of becoming like them. Earnestness, earnestness! Salvation, salvation!

Behind you is a relentless pursuer and a swiftly approaching end. Beware of death, and take lesson from your fathers, your sons, and your brothers. And do not obey the living except in what you would obey the dead. *

Indeed, God accepts only those deeds that are done sincerely for His sake. So seek God’s pleasure through your actions. Indeed, you were sincere only at the time of your poverty and need. O servants of God, take lesson from those among you who have died, and reflect upon those who were before you — where were they yesterday, and where are they today?

Where are those who once triumphed in the places of battle? Health and youth passed them by, time has overcome them and they are become dust and decay.

Where are the kings who stirred the earth and built it up? They have perished, their memory forgotten, and they have become no more. Truly, God Almighty has left their burdens upon them, cut them off from their desires, and they departed with only their deeds — while the world they inhabited became the world of others. We have been raised as a generation after them: if we take heed from their fate, we will be saved; but if we follow their path downward, we will become like them.

Where are the handsome faces, radiant in youth? They wilted, and their youth became a sorrow upon them. Where are those who built cities, fortified them with walls, and filled them with wonders? They left them to those who came after. Those dwellings now stand empty, while they lie in the darkness of the graves. Do you sense any trace of them, or hear even a whisper? (The Quran - Maryam 98)

Where are your fathers and brothers whom you knew? Their appointed terms ended, and they arrived at what they had sent ahead — settling upon it, remaining in misery or happiness after death.

Truly, God has no partner. There is no special bond between Him and any of His creation by which He grants good or repels harm, except through obedience to Him and following His command. Know that you are indebted servants, and that what is with Him cannot be attained except through obedience.

Has the time not come for one of you to have the Fire lifted away from him, and not be kept far from Paradise?

*Not clear what is intended. A possible reference to righteous people who have passed away.

This is a screen shot of the original Arabic text:

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Pakistan’s agriculture is facing a crisis that is neither sudden nor mysterious. It is the predictable result of a long‑standing mismatch between what the country grows and what its climate, soils, and water resources can realistically support. For decades, Pakistan’s crop choices were shaped by a world of abundant canal flows, stable weather, and a political economy that rewarded acreage rather than efficiency. That world is gone. Yet our cropping patterns remain frozen in time, even as the climate around us changes at a pace our policies refuse to acknowledge.

The result is a slow‑motion agricultural breakdown - one that threatens food security, rural livelihoods, and the national economy.

Pakistan now has less than 900 cubic meters of water per person, placing it firmly in the category of water‑scarce nations. Groundwater levels are falling across Punjab and Sindh. Heatwaves arrive earlier and last longer. Monsoons have become erratic, swinging between drought and catastrophic flooding. Soils are losing fertility due to overuse of urea and poor crop rotation. And yet, despite all this, Pakistan continues to allocate vast tracts of land to water‑hungry, low‑value crops that no longer make sense in this new ecological reality.

The most glaring example is sugarcane. It is one of the thirstiest crops on earth, consuming four to five times more water than cotton, pulses, or oilseeds. In a country struggling to meet basic irrigation needs, sugarcane should be a niche crop grown only in areas with abundant water. Instead, it occupies prime land in Punjab and Sindh, not because it is agronomically suitable, but because the sugar industry is politically powerful. The crop drains aquifers, worsens salinity, and locks farmers into a low‑value cycle. Yet every year, more land is brought under sugarcane, even as Pakistan’s water crisis deepens.

Rice is another example of a crop that has outgrown its ecological welcome. Producing a single kilogram of rice requires 2,500–3,000 liters of water. In canal‑rich pockets of central Punjab, rice can be justified. But in much of Sindh and south Punjab, rice cultivation depends heavily on tubewells, accelerating groundwater depletion. Climate change has made rice yields increasingly volatile, with heat stress and erratic rainfall reducing productivity. Despite this, rice acreage continues to expand because it is seen as a reliable export earner - even though the hidden cost is the silent exhaustion of Pakistan’s water reserves.

Wheat, the backbone of Pakistan’s food security, is grown everywhere - including in marginal, arid zones where it performs poorly and consumes scarce water that could be used for higher‑value crops. Wheat is essential, but its blanket cultivation is not. Pakistan’s fixation on wheat acreage, rather than wheat productivity, has created a system where farmers are encouraged to grow wheat even in areas where it makes neither economic nor ecological sense.

Cotton, once Pakistan’s “white gold,” has suffered a dramatic decline. Heatwaves, pest attacks, and outdated seed technology have devastated yields. The collapse of cotton has forced Pakistan to import billions of dollars’ worth of raw cotton, undermining the textile sector - the country’s largest export engine. Yet instead of investing in heat‑tolerant, pest‑resistant cotton varieties, policy attention has drifted elsewhere.

The tragedy is not that Pakistan lacks alternatives. The tragedy is that Pakistan refuses to adopt them. These are the crop alternatives that warrant urgent policy attention:

Oilseeds - including canola, mustard, sunflower, and soybean - require far less water than sugarcane or rice. They fit well in Punjab and Sindh and could dramatically reduce Pakistan’s edible‑oil import bill, which now exceeds USD 4 billion annually. Yet oilseeds remain marginal because support prices and procurement systems overwhelmingly favour wheat and sugarcane.

Pulses - moong, mash, masoor - are ideally suited to Pakistan’s arid and semi‑arid zones. They require minimal water, improve soil fertility by fixing nitrogen, and have strong domestic demand. Despite this, Pakistan imports 80% of its pulses because farmers are not incentivized to grow them. A country with millions of hectares of dryland agriculture should not be importing the very crops best suited to its climate.

Millets and sorghum - bajra and jowar - are among the most climate‑resilient crops in the world. They thrive in heat, drought, and poor soils. They are ideal for regions like Thar, Cholistan, DG Khan, Dadu, and much of Balochistan. Yet they remain neglected because they do not fit into the political economy of support prices and mill‑based procurement. In a hotter, drier Pakistan, millets should be central to food security, not an afterthought.

Horticulture - fruits, vegetables, chilies - offers five to ten times the per‑acre income of wheat or sugarcane, with far lower water requirements. Mangoes, citrus, dates, guava, onions, tomatoes, and potatoes all have strong domestic and export potential. But horticulture requires cold chains, storage, and market access - areas where Pakistan has chronically underinvested.

Fodder crops - maize silage and Rhodes grass – are water efficient and characterized by high productivity. Bear in mind that livestock contributes 63% of agricultural GDP in Pakistan – far more than wheat, rice, cotton and sugarcane combined! Yet fodder crops, which determine the productivity of livestock, receive almost no policy attention, no support prices, no research investment, and no serious extension services This mismatch is one of the biggest blind spots in Pakistan’s agricultural policy.

The core problem is not agronomic. It is political. Pakistan’s agricultural policies reward acreage, not efficiency. They reward water‑intensive crops, not climate‑resilient ones. They reward politically connected industries, not national food security. The result is a cropping pattern that drains water, degrades soil, and traps farmers in low‑value cycles.

If Pakistan wants a sustainable agricultural future, it must realign its crop choices with its ecological realities. That means reducing sugarcane acreage, limiting rice to canal‑rich zones, shifting wheat out of marginal lands, reviving climate‑resilient cotton, and aggressively promoting oilseeds, pulses, millets, horticulture, and fodder.

The choice is stark. Pakistan can continue pouring its limited water into crops that drain the economy and degrade the land. Or it can embrace a new crop mix that conserves water, improves soil health, reduces imports, and increases farmer incomes.

The old cropping system was built for a different climate, a different water system, and a different era. That era is over. Pakistan must choose whether its agriculture will adapt - or collapse under the weight of its own contradictions.

An edited version of this article was published in The Express Tribune

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The renewed conflict in the Gulf has once again exposed a hard truth about Pakistan’s economic architecture: We remain dangerously dependent on imported oil and every geopolitical tremor in the Middle East reverberates through our economy with disproportionate force.

As tensions escalate and shipping risks rise across the Strait of Hormuz, global crude prices have surged. For Pakistan, this is not a distant regional conflict. It is an economic shockwave that hits our inflation, our currency, our fiscal balance, and ultimately the daily lives of millions.

Oil is the backbone of Pakistan’s inflation cycle. When global prices rise, the impact is immediate and broad. Transport becomes more expensive, electricity tariffs climb, manufacturing costs increase, and food prices follow.

A $10 per‑barrel increase in crude can add nearly a full percentage point to inflation. For households already struggling with record‑high prices, this is not just an inconvenience. It is a direct hit to their purchasing power and quality of life.

But inflation is only the first domino. Pakistan imports roughly $18–20 billion worth of petroleum products annually. Every $5 increase in global crude prices adds about $1 billion to the import bill. That single number captures the scale of the vulnerability. A country already battling a fragile current account cannot absorb such shocks without consequences. The Rupee weakens, external borrowing rises and the State Bank is forced into defensive monetary tightening.

The fiscal side suffers too: Higher fuel costs inflate power‑sector subsidies, deepen circular debt and squeeze development spending. The government ends up paying more simply to keep the system running, leaving less room for investment in health, education, or infrastructure. In short, the Gulf War oil shock hits Pakistan at every weak point simultaneously.

The immediate challenge is to prevent the oil shock from spiralling into a broader economic crisis. But caution is advised: Pakistan must avoid the temptation of blanket subsidies - a politically attractive but fiscally disastrous response. The country has tried that route before and it only leads to ballooning deficits and IMF interventions.

A smarter approach is targeted relief: Digital cash transfers through BISP or mobile wallets can cushion low‑income households without distorting fuel prices for the entire economy. Limited support for public transport, agriculture, and essential goods transporters can prevent inflation from spreading through the supply chain. These measures protect the vulnerable without blowing up the budget.

Pakistan can also make strategic use of existing fuel stocks. While our reserves are limited, even a modest release can smooth temporary spikes, prevent panic buying and reduce immediate import pressure. This buys time while markets stabilize.

Energy conservation is another underused tool. Early market closures, reduced government office hours and mandatory energy‑efficient lighting may sound symbolic, but they can shave millions off the import bill. Even a 5% reduction in national fuel consumption translates into hundreds of millions of dollars saved annually.

Diplomatically, Pakistan must leverage its relationships with Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar - not for handouts, but for structured support such as deferred payment arrangements, flexible LNG scheduling, or short‑term swaps. These mechanisms have helped in past crises and can provide breathing room again.

Finally, with an IMF program underway, timely external inflows are essential. A stable exchange rate is the first line of defence against imported inflation. Without it every other measure becomes harder.

While short‑term measures can soften the blow, they do not address the underlying problem. Pakistan’s vulnerability is structural. As long as the country relies heavily on imported fossil fuels, every geopolitical crisis in the Gulf will threaten our economic stability.

The long‑term solution is not a mystery. It requires political will, policy continuity, and a shift in national priorities. The following elements must underpin a longer-term solution:

First: Accelerate the shift to renewable energy. Pakistan has abundant solar and wind potential. Yet our energy mix remains dominated by imported fuels. A serious push toward renewables would: Reduce the import bill, stabilize electricity prices, cut circular debt and attract foreign investment. A target of 50% renewable energy by 2030 is ambitious but achievable - and essential.

Second: Expand domestic refining capacity. Pakistan imports a large share of refined petroleum products, which are more expensive than crude. Upgrading and expanding refineries would: Improve energy security, reduce reliance on refined imports and create industrial capacity and jobs Saudi Arabia’s proposed refinery investment in Gwadar could be transformative if executed with transparency and long‑term planning.

Third: Electrify transport which consumes the bulk of Pakistan’s fuel. Electrifying even a fraction of it — especially buses and motorcycles — would significantly reduce oil demand. This requires: Charging infrastructure, incentives for EV adoption and localization of EV manufacturing. Countries across Asia have already demonstrated how quickly such transitions can occur with the right policies.

Fourth: Fix the power sector. Circular debt is a structural cancer. No energy strategy can succeed without addressing: Transmission losses, tariff distortions, inefficient DISCOs and capacity payment burdens. A financially healthy power sector reduces fiscal pressure and stabilizes energy prices.

Fifth: Build a strategic petroleum reserve. Most major economies maintain 60-90 days of reserves. Pakistan has only a fraction of that. A national reserve would: Cushion future price shocks, provide supply security and strengthen bargaining power. This requires investment, but the cost of not having it is far higher.

This is a moment of reckoning. The Gulf crisis is not just another external shock. It is a warning - a reminder that Pakistan’s economic model is unsustainable as long as it remains tethered to imported oil. The country can either continue absorbing every global shock that hits the world, or it can finally build the resilience it has lacked for decades.

The choice is still ours. But the window is narrowing.

An edited version of this piece was published in The Express Tribune on 11 May 2026

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The global economy is teetering on the edge of a cliff. When it crashes to the ground picking up the pieces and resurrecting it will take years if not decades.

This is what Nassim Nicholas Taleb called a black swan event – so significant and improbable that no one could have foreseen it.

Action needs to be taken now – today - to prevent the crash. This mainly involves allowing all marine traffic to pass unhindered through the Strait of Hormuz. To do this one must start by recognizing that it is impossible to achieve this objective by military force. Believing otherwise is delusional. Ultimately there must be a diplomatic solution and - like it or not - it must involve Iran’s concurrence.

It is not likely that such an initiative will come from President Trump. In his address to the nation last night, it seemed clear that he was not all there. And it is widely recognized now that US war policy is being run by Israel. Its Prime Minister – Mr. Netanyahu – is a fanatic committed to removing any possible threat to Israel in the region. And it is this fanaticism that has led him to initiate the attack on Iran. He is not going to back down.

This leaves European leaders as the only adults in the room. There is a huge responsibility on their shoulders. They need to rise to the occasion. This is what they need to do:

First, they must stop dreaming that the Strait can be opened militarily. It cannot. Second, they need to appreciate, as Professor John Mearsheimer often says, that Iran is now in the driver’s seat. And again – like it or not – Iran will determine the terms on which the Strait will be opened. So any plan to open it must meet their approval.

Here is a plan that may do that:

First the Europeans must contain Israel’s military capacity to attack its neighbours. Given America’s unconditional support for Israel they – the Europeans – would be right to wonder how they can do this. But they can if they find the collective backbone to do so.

This is how: They would need to forbid America from using its European airbases to support Israel in any way – including withdrawing permission to use these bases for attacking Iran. Next, they can suspend all arms sales to Israel until it stops attacking its neighbours, withdraws from territory it has occupied and agrees to UN resolutions that call for a two-state solution. And finally end all economic and technical cooperation with Israel until it complies.

If the Europeans commit to such action Iran would likely agree to opening the Strait and possibly ending its attacks on its neighbours. And if Iran stops it is likely that the Americans will as well. They are desperate, as reported by multiple analysts, for an off ramp. This maybe it.

All this is of course a lot to swallow. In the eyes of some it would be tantamount to handing Iran a victory – an outcome likely to be unpalatable to many.

But the situation is so critically dangerous that allowing the appearance of victory to a long-term antagonist is a small price to pay in the scheme of things for saving the world from economic collapse.

It is time for the Europeans – to use an American expression – to step up to the plate. They have the ability to save the world. They just need to dare to do it.

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My translation from Arabic of the Shakib Arsalan classic, Why Muslims Lagged Behind and Others Progressed, has just been published in Sri Lanka.

The book explores one of the most important questions facing the modern Muslim world: How did a civilization that once led the world in knowledge, science, governance, and culture fall into stagnation, while others surged ahead?

It examines that question with clarity and historical depth. And looks beyond clichés and simplistic narratives, tracing the real forces — intellectual, social, political, and economic — that shaped the trajectory of Muslim societies over the past several centuries. More importantly, it highlights the ideas, values, and institutional frameworks that enabled other nations to innovate, reform, and progress.

The goal of this work is not to assign blame, but to spark reflection. Understanding the past is the first step toward meaningful renewal, and I hope this book contributes to that conversation in a constructive way.
If you’re interested in history, development, or the future of the Muslim world, this work should be in your reading bucket list.

The eBook is at this link.

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It was one of Karachi’s busiest commercial centers, especially for wedding garments and wholesale goods. No more. Gul Plaza burned to the ground in a few short hours on the night of 17 January 2026. It took with it the lives of at least 73 people. This is a tragedy that has shaken not just the people of Karachi but all of Pakistan. What makes the catastrophe especially heart rending is that it was entirely avoidable.

Gul Plaza has brought into sharp focus the issue of building codes in Pakistan especially as they relate to fire safety. The fact is, contrary to what most people may think, that Pakistan does have a robust fire safety code.

The core document is entitled Building Code of Pakistan – Fire Safety Provisions 2016 (FSP2016). This is Pakistan’s national fire‑safety code issued by the Pakistan Engineering Council (PEC). It is legally binding and applies to all new buildings, all existing buildings (with phased compliance) and all public and private construction.

FSP2016 is closely aligned with the international fire standard known as NFPA 1. This is the Fire Code published by the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA) in the United States. It is a comprehensive, globally adopted, integrated fire‑safety code that brings together requirements from more than 130 other NFPA standards to create a single, enforceable framework for fire prevention, building safety, and hazard management.

Let’s look at some of the core requirements covered by Pakistan’s FSP2016:

It mandates fire protection systems such as automatic sprinklers, fire hydrants, hose reels, fire extinguishers, fire pumps and water storage, and fire‑alarm and detection systems. It requires that a means of exiting the building quickly in a fire emergency must be assured this includes: The number and width of exits, travel distances to the nearest exit, fire‑rated staircases, emergency lighting and signage.

It requires standards for building construction such as fire‑resistant walls, floors, and doors, compartmentation and fire barriers around ducts, and cables to prevent spread of the fire. It mandates special measures for smoke control which is how most people died in the Gul Plaza tragedy, The measures include smoke extraction, stairwell pressurization to prevent the ingress of smoke to these vital escape routes, and automatic shutdown of air conditioning to prevent the system from spreading smoke to other parts of the building.

In the case of Gul Plaza several overlapping failures turned the fire into one of the deadliest building fires in Pakistan’s recent history. When you look at the pattern, it is not one single cause — it is a cascade of structural, regulatory, and operational breakdowns that left people with almost no chance of escape.

Let’s look at some of the main causes: The building was a multi-story vertical trap. It had narrow internal corridors, congested shop layouts, limited ventilation, and heavy combustible stock (clothing, plastics, packaging). Once the fire started, smoke quickly filled the upper floors. Most victims died from smoke inhalation not burns.

Exits were blocked, locked, or insufficient. Multiple reports in the press mentioned that these locked exits and blocked staircases obstructed escape routes This was compounded by no functional emergency fire exits. Blocked exits turn a building into a sealed container. People on upper floors had no viable escape path.

There was no sprinkler system. A functioning sprinkler system would have controlled the fire early, prevented flashover, kept smoke at survivable levels and given people time to escape But Gul Plaza, despite being a high‑risk commercial building, had no automatic sprinklers. This single factor dramatically increased the death toll.

No working fire alarm or early warning system was in place. Survivors reported that there was no audible fire alarm, no evacuation announcement and no coordinated response. People on upper floors only realized there was a fire when smoke reached them by which time their fates had already been sealed.

There was a clear violation of the requirement for compartmentation. Gul Plaza had open vertical shafts, unsealed service ducts and no smoke barriers This allowed smoke to rise rapidly through the building. Occupants were trapped before they even knew that their lives were in peril.

This combination of no alarms, no sprinklers, no smoke control and blocked exits meant the fire reached flashover conditions quickly. People on upper floors were overcome by smoke within minutes.

It should be clear by now that the Gul Plaza tragedy was not because of shortcomings in Pakistan’s fire code rather it had to do with serious, and possibly criminal, lapses in the enforcement of the code.

So who enforces the code? The law states that enforcement “shall vest with the Authority Having Jurisdiction (AHJ)” within its respective area. In Karachi this authority vests with the Sindh Building Code Authority (SBCA) an agency of the Sindh Government. Hence it is the SBCA which bears the brunt of explaining why it failed to enforce the code which led to this tragedy.

But it is useful to understand that the eco system of corruption in Pakistan means that SBCA is perhaps not solely to blame here. Consider that a poorly paid SBCA fire inspector shows up at a property such as Gul Plaza and insists that it comply or face closure. The Seths who own and occupy the property realize that compliance will come at a substantial cost to them. So the poorly paid inspector is given a sealed envelope. He overlooks the violations. He is happy. And the Seths are happy. Until one day their shortsightedness catches up with them in a catastrophic manner.

“Systemic” these days is a much hackneyed term. Yet in the context of Gul Plaza it captures precisely the failures that led to this disaster. Everyone is responsible to a degree, SBCA, the Sindh Government, the owners of Gul Plaza and even the hapless tenants of the its shops who failed to insist that the building comply with the fire code and who paid with their lives and wealth for this entirely avoidable tragedy.

The lesson here is that fire safety is not an extravagant indulgence. It is a matter of life and death. There must never be another Gul Plaza.

This article was published in the February 2, 2026 edition of The Express Tribune

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An edited version of this article was published in the January 19th edition of The Express Tribune

Pakistan has not one but two transport policies. The first, entitled National Transport Policy of Pakistan 2018 was prepared by the Planning Commission of Pakistan. The second, entitled National Freight and Logistics Policy was issued by the Ministry of Communications in 2020.

The first of these “reflects the Government of Pakistan’s aim to create a world class transport sector”.

The second offers up some more detail: “To drive economic growth and trade in Pakistan by increasing the country’s competitiveness through an integrated, seamless, efficient, reliable and cost-effective freight transport and logistics network, leveraging best in class technology, processes and manpower.”

These vision statements miss the point. What Pakistan needs is a transport sector that works for its people – all its people rich and poor. It does not need it to be “world class” or leverage “best in class technology”.

In reading the policies themselves one is struck by a strange disconnect: There is a complete absence or discussion of factors critical to the design and implementation of any transport system. These would be for example: Demographics, population density and distribution, topology especially in regard to intercity transport, per capita income, income distribution.

Transport systems do not exist in a vacuum. There must be a full understanding of the enabling environment. Without this understanding and specific design objectives what is likely to emerge is an unstructured, inefficient and largely dysfunctional mix of transport modes. And this, sadly, is what has happened in Pakistan

Of particular concern is the way rail has been marginalized in favour of road transport. Many impressive multilane intercity highways have been built. Billions of Rupees have been spent in building them and billions more are spent each year to maintain them.

Pakistan does not publish an official median per capita income but based on global patterns and Pakistan’s GDP per capita of $1,480 in 2024 and $1,820 in FY25, the median is likely in the range of $600–1,100 per year. So as a best case half of Pakistan’s population lives on less than $1100 per year. How many of these people can buy a car to make use of our magnificent highways?

A cynic would say: Well, they can always take a bus. And indeed this what they are obliged to do. But here we run into another problem: The issue of cost and in particular energy cost

Consider the following comparison between rail and road transport: Rail has a massive physics advantage: steel wheels on steel rails result in an extremely low rolling resistance.

A freight train requires less than one‑third the energy per ton‑kilometer compared to a truck. This is due to lower rolling resistance, better aerodynamics per unit of cargo, and the ability to move large volumes in a single Consist. The same would apply to intercity passenger rail providing the trains run with high occupancy.

Electrified rail systems (metros, suburban rail) are among the most energy‑efficient passenger modes. Passenger buses and cars have higher per‑passenger energy use unless operating at very high occupancy.

Rail also trumps road along other dimensions. Rail freight generates less than one‑fifth the greenhouse gas emissions of road freight per ton‑kilometer. Similarly passenger electric rail systems (metros, suburban rail) are among the most energy‑efficient passenger modes.

Rail transport cost for freight can be higher than road on a per shipment basis. But this is only the case when volumes are low. At high volumes rail easily out competes road. The same argument applies to passenger transport costs. Operating costs per passenger kilometer can only be lower when trains run at high occupancy.

Land usage in the case of rail is also much lower than road. The land needed for an up and down train track is a fraction of the land needed to build a dual carriage six lane highway. Not to mention the damage done to the environment and agriculture when forests and fields are replaced by six lane highways.

Pakistan has all the factors that strongly favour rail over road: Consider that almost all large cities and industrial activity lie essentially along the Indus river basin. This basin – from Karachi to Peshawar constitutes a natural high density rail corridor, enabling the sort of volumes that make rail a better and cheaper alternative to road.

There is of course the issue of capital cost. In general the cost per kilometer of rail is of the same order as road. Though rail can be more expensive depending on other supporting infrastructure such as stations and bridges that need to be designed to carry heavy dynamic loads.

Pakistan’s circumstances, its geography, demographics, economic realities all forcefully argue that rail should be the preferred mode of transportation. Yet, for some reason we seem to have marginalized rail in favour of road transport.

This is what a sensible transport policy should look like:

Intra city: Our cities are characterized by high population densities and in general a low level of income. It is not practical or possible for everyone to own a car. The policy should be to develop mass transit systems in all major cities. This will be a combination of conventional rail, overhead rail, trams and buses. Trains would operate on high density corridors. Trams and buses would then branch out of these corridors to transport people to their final destinations.

Such systems would primarily be for people movement. Freight movement within cities would still have to rely mainly on trucks. And for this purpose roads should be built to the proper standards. Trucks operating on public roads would have to comply with maximum axle load limits to prevent damage to the roads.

Intercity: Given the low income levels of most of our citizens the only sensible system that can provide transport to the vast majority of our public at a reasonable price is rail. To this end we need to upgrade, develop and expand our rail networks and systems to cover all major cities. Rail must be the primary transport system between cities for both people and freight. The objective is to provide fast, convenient and frequent services between most urban centers.

The focus on road networks should mainly be on ‘farm to market’ or ‘farm to rail’ roads. These should be upgraded and built wherever traffic densities do not justify a rail link. Such roads are critical to our primarily agricultural economy since produce must be moved quickly in order to minimize loss and wastage.

Much time and money has been spent to build a road network that in the end is useful only to a small minority of the population. It is time now to put the needs of the vast majority – the poor - over the needs of the few.

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Prior to 1985 there were no Islamic banks in Pakistan. Fast forward to today and there are 6 full-fledged Islamic banks (IBs) and 16 Islamic Banking Branch Networks (IBBs). These are Islamic divisions or subsidiaries of conventional banks. Islamic banking now accounts for nearly a quarter of all banking assets in Pakistan and continues to grow faster than the conventional sector.

So what were the factors that led to the introduction of Islamic banking in Pakistan and to what extent are these banks truly Islamic?

The story begins in 1985 when then President Zia ul Haq during the latter stage of his Islamization program sought to introduce Islamic banking in Pakistan. To this end he constituted two committees.

The first was a committee of religious scholars led by Taqi Usmani a prominent cleric. Its purpose was to examine whether Islamic banking could be implemented within Pakistan’s existing financial and legal framework.

The second was a technical committee led by the then Finance Minister of Pakistan, Ghulam Ishaq Khan, whose members included economists, bankers and financial experts. Its purpose was to assess the technical and economic feasibility of transitioning to an Islamic financial system.

Both committees were tasked with advising Zia ul Haq on whether Pakistan could realistically move toward an interest free banking system while remaining tied to the global financial order.

The technical committee was unambiguous in concluding that a comprehensive transformation of the economic structure in Pakistan would be required to establish a genuinely Islamic economic system. This would include changes from the production to the consumption of wealth, alignment of economic procedures with Islamic principles, and institutional independence from global financial bodies such as the IMF and the World Bank. The committee argued that without such systemic changes, converting only the banking sector to an Islamic model would be inconsistent and technically unviable.

There is a long history of Islamic scholars giving rulers what they want. And the committee of religious scholars did not disappoint. Its scholars acknowledged that full implementation of an Islamic economic system was not feasible under existing conditions. However, they proposed incremental steps through the use of legal mechanisms (hiyal) such as murābaḥa, muḍāraba, ijāra, and bay‘ mu’ajjal. These mechanisms were intended to approximate Islamic financial principles within the constraints of the prevailing economic environment.

It is interesting to note that the word hiyal is the plural of heela which in Arabic has meanings such as ploy, ruse, stratagem, subterfuge.

In any event, when the recommendations reached policymakers, the technical committee’s report was set aside, and the system based on hiyal was adopted. Though some of the scholars on the committee later expressed reservations about the resulting framework, the hybrid model was adopted, continues to operate and is commonly presented as Islamic banking.

This led to the creation of an Islamic looking system layered on top of a conventional economic structure. The broader argument is that both Islamic and conventional banking in Pakistan remain embedded within the global debt-based economic system. As a result, labeling the system “Islamic” without undertaking structural reforms risks creating conceptual confusion and misleading the public.

The rapid growth in Islamic banking in Pakistan can in part be explained by the public’s belief that there exists a truly Islamic system of banking in Pakistan. Labelling a bank as Islamic opens the door to a flood of faithful depositors who are loath to deal with conventional banks.

This is cheap money for the banks since it is held primarily in current accounts which do not pay interest. In banking terms, the cost of funds for Islamic banks is zero. This enables them to produce outstanding financial results. And this is why 16 conventional banks have jumped into the fray by forming Islamic banking subsidiaries – IBBs as they are called.

If proof is needed of the profitability of Islamic banking, consider that the leading Islamic bank in Pakistan – Meezan Bank – earned a net profit in 2024 of Rs 101 billion with a return on equity – ROE – of about 30%. Compare these results for the same year to Pakistan’s largest bank Habib Bank Limited which earned a net profit of Rs 59 billion and an ROE of approximately 15%. This, despite HBL’s asset base being twice the size of Meezan’s.

Islamic banking has given rise to a veritable cottage industry of so-called Shariah Boards populated by prominent Islamic scholars. These boards are retained by banks to advise them on whether their Islamic banking products and investments are compatible with the Shariah. Since these boards earn income from the banks there is a natural incentive to tell the banks what they want to hear.

There is no dispute among Muslims that Islam does not allow riba or interest on the lending or borrowing of money. So the question is: Do legal mechanisms, complex machinations in the structure of Islamic products and clever semantics such as calling interest “profit” render banking Islamic?

Given that this is a matter of faith and there is money involved, a lot of money, it is not likely that this question will obtain of an unequivocal answer. But let those who promote Islamic banking know that there is a Higher Authority that will ultimately render judgement on their actions.

Let’s give the final word to the fountainhead of Islamic legislation. This is verse 275 from Surah Al-Baqara of the Quran:

“Those who consume riba will not stand except as one whom Satan has confounded with his touch. That is because they say, ‘Trade is just like riba.’ But Allah has permitted trade and forbidden riba. So whoever receives admonition from his Lord and stops, then what is past is forgiven for him, and his affair rests with Allah. But whoever returns to it—those are the companions of the Fire; they will abide therein.”

Nothing more needs to be said.

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Centuries before the advent of Islam the Arabian Peninsula was home to tribes of impoverished Bedouins. Here, in the harsh, endless desert, they had no material possessions of any value. What they owned could be bundled up and placed on the backs of their camels. But they did not think themselves poor. For they did possess something of immense value. It could not be seen or touched. But it could be heard. It was their language.

And those who could speak Arabic with eloquence and power - the poets - were honoured and cherished. Whenever a new poet emerged in a tribe, word spread rapidly across the desert. People would travel from afar to hear the newcomer. And his tribe would gain honour and respect because of him.

Mythical powers were attributed to great poets. It was a good omen to be extolled by one. And misfortune to be lampooned. It is said of one of the great satirical poets that a thief stole some of his camels and refused to return them. As a last resort the poet threatened to lampoon him in verse. The camels were promptly returned.

During the spring sprawling literary festivals would be held. The most famous of these was the Souk Okaz which was held near the city of Taif. The tribes would show up with their best poets to compete. Recitals would be held. A panel of judges composed of poets of repute and distinction would rate the competitors.

The occasion took on the character of a market fair. Vendors would set up their stalls. Jugglers and musicians would display their skills. Makeshift pubs would serve up liquor hauled on camels from distant corners of the peninsula. And, of course, the great poets would present their newest compositions.

In these pre-Islamic days writing was not common. All poetry was memorized. Every poet had an official reciter - rawiya in Arabic - who would memorize all of his master’s poetry, and for whom he would often serve as a stand in. It is said that some of these rawiyas had memorized hundreds of thousands of verses.

And since there was no written literature as we understand it today, Arabic developed as a spoken not written language. It was heard not read, by people who came to acquire the keenest of appreciation for the spoken word.

Arabia was a land that time had forgotten. History had passed it by. The great Roman and Persian empires were steadily extending their influence. They had little interest or time for the arid sparsely populated wasteland that was Arabia. And so it seemed that Arabic would forever remain the exclusive, coveted and cherished preserve of the Bedouins.

In this milieu a man emerged from the tribe of Quraish in the valley of Makkah claiming to be the messenger of a single God. The Bedouins were not impressed. They had their own gods - statues of stone and wood - and they were not interested in talk of a God they could not see or touch.

Then everything changed: The man - the messenger - started to recite verses from the Quran1 which he claimed to have received from his God. The Bedouins, connoisseurs extraordinaire of the spoken word, recognized instinctively that these verses were nothing like they had ever heard before, even from their greatest poets.

It seemed to them that this cascading symphony of words could not be of human authorship.2 And so it was this seemingly inimitable quality of the Quranic Arabic that in large part convinced the ancient Arabs that Muhammad was in fact who he claimed to be - a messenger of the one God - and that the message of Islam was of divine origin.

From now on there was no stopping the spread of Islam. Within a century of Muhammad’s death the Arabs, with the Quran in one hand and a sword in the other, had conquered half the known world. The Persian empire was overrun. The Romans were pushed back to the cold recesses of Europe whence they emerged. With Islam went Arabic. And wherever it went it completely supplanted local languages in a way that had never happened before or has happened since.

The Arab world today extends from Mauritania on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean to the Sudan and Yemen on the edge of the Arabian Sea. And the people who live in this vast region are a melting pot of ethnicities and religions. Yet they are all known today as Arabs. Only a scattered vestige remains of the many languages their ancestors spoke before the advent of Arabic.

In colonial times, the British and French empires covered vast parts of the globe. And English and French remain widely spoken in their former colonies. But the original languages of these territories were not supplanted and their inhabitants can hardly be called English or French.

That Arabic spread the way it did would not have surprised the ancient poets of Souk Okaz. After all they knew, before anyone else, that their language was priceless.

An interesting consequence of Arabic being the language of the Quran was that it froze the language in time. Muslims accept, and the Quran itself states that “there is no changing the words of God”. And since the Quran, which is literally the speech of God, cannot be changed this also meant that Arabic could not be changed.

Hence Arabic, just like the Quran, was not permitted to change. The language remains today in essentially the same form as when it was spoken by the Prophet and his companions some fifteen centuries ago.

So, a book whose author went to his grave a thousand years ago can be read with just the same ease, notwithstanding minor changes in style and diction, as a book published today. This cannot be said of any other living language today.

Concluded.

*The two verses represented in the calligraph are from Labeed’s Mua’llaqa in which he praises his tribe. They read as follows:

مــنْ معــشرٍ سنَّتْ لهمْ آباؤهُمْ, ولــكلِّ قومٍ سُنَّة ٌ وإمــامُهَا

لا يَطبَعونَ وَلا يَبورُفَعالُهُم, إِذ لا يَميلُ مَعَ الهَوى أَحلامُهم

A rough translation would read:

(We) Are of a people whose ancestors laid down the law (for us). And every tribe has their own law and leader.

Our values never decay and our deeds do no harm (to anyone). And we never yield to capricious desires.

**Labeed ibn Rabia’ is thought of as one of the greatest of Arabic poets. His life spanned the period of the Jahililiya (the pre-Islamic period) and Islam. In his later life he was a revered companion of the Prophet. It is believed that he composed this Mua’llaqa in the late 6th century of the Common Era. By this measure it was written some 1400 years ago. That it has survived in its original form is a miracle of its own.

Education is the key. No society can progress and develop without it, and Pakistan is no exception. But education is a broad term. It includes primary and secondary schooling, first degrees offered by colleges, and then higher education, including master’s degrees and doctorates.

In Pakistan, all these areas fail to pass muster when compared to global standards. This article, however, concerns itself only with the primary level because this is where we have a catastrophe in the making.

According to the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), approximately 26 million children aged 5-16 are out of school in Pakistan, representing 44% of the total population in this age group. This makes Pakistan the country with the largest number of out-of-school children in the world. The situation is particularly severe in rural areas and katchi abadis of large cities such as Karachi.

These 26 million children – a number greater than the entire population of Sri Lanka – will grow up illiterate. And in an age when information is power, it is a cruel injustice to abandon even one child to the ravages of illiteracy, let alone 26 million of them.

What we have here is an educational disaster, not unlike natural disasters such as earthquakes that sometimes wreak havoc in Pakistan. The difference is that natural disasters are ephemeral – they do their damage and pass. Not so in the case of our educational disaster. It is intensifying over time.

Pakistan’s population is growing at a rate of six million per year. On average, half of these children will not be able to go to school. By 2035, we will have about 50 million children doomed to illiteracy.

Traditional methods, such as building brick-and-mortar schools, are costly and can only scratch the surface. Consider the laudable and valiant efforts of the citizen-supported and aptly named The Citizens Foundation (TCF). Founded by a group of concerned citizens 30 years ago to address precisely the problem of out-of-school children, it has managed – through broad financial support from the community at home and abroad – to build some 2,000 schools over these three decades. This is a marvelous achievement.

But assuming that each school caters to about 200 children, the combined capacity of TCF schools is about 400,000. On this basis, in order to accommodate all 26 million out-of-school children, TCF would have to build 130,000 new schools!

Clearly, going the route of conventional brick-and-mortar schools is not a scalable solution. We need a solution that, at minimum cost, can be scaled to build hundreds – if not thousands – of “schools” every year. Fortunately, in this age of AI, such a solution is within reach.

But before getting to this solution, it is important to have a clear target in mind: The challenge is illiteracy, not schooling. The distinction is important. We need to teach every child to be able to read, write, and do basic arithmetic – the equivalent of a 3rd or 4th-grade education. Once we have done this, our task is over. The child is no longer illiterate.

Having defined the target very narrowly as the mass eradication of illiteracy, we can now move to a possible solution. Around the world, various groups and organisations have been working to tackle this issue.

One such organisation is Teach The World Foundation (TTWF), a nonprofit set up by a group of expatriate Pakistanis based in the USA, including entrepreneurs, retired senior executives of Fortune 500 companies, and academics from institutions such as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT).

Their approach is to leverage digital technology in a way that allows a child to learn by herself. There is no teacher to instruct her, and there is no need for a school in the traditional sense of the word. All that is needed is a single well-lit and well-ventilated room – a “micro-school” in TTWF terminology. The room is equipped with 25 tablets loaded with AI-based software designed to present learning as a game.

The child believes she is playing a game, while in fact, the game is progressively teaching her the alphabet, numbers, and ultimately reading, writing, and basic arithmetic. In field trials, TTWF has found that its “gamification” software can bring an illiterate 5- to 10-year-old child to the reading and writing level of a 3rd or 4th grader at a regular school in about 10 to 16 months. The child is no longer illiterate. The world is open to her.

This is how the process works: A room is rented in a poor locality. It is cleaned, painted, and equipped with 25 desks and 25 tablets. A solar system is installed to charge the tablets and run the lights and fans. Finally, a local woman is hired as a custodian and facilitator to ensure that the tablets are charged and that children are guided to the correct games. The school operates in four shifts per day from this single room, meaning that at any given time, 100 children are learning.

In terms of cost and time: The average cost to set up such a “micro-school,” including furniture, tablets, and a solar system, is about Rs4 million. The time to launch a single school is, on average, about nine weeks. The main recurring costs are room rent and facilitator salaries – both of which are very reasonable in rural areas.

Contrast this with a traditional school. The cost, on average, to build a school is about Rs70 million and takes around one year to complete. Teachers then need to be hired and trained – a daunting task, given that Pakistan has a shortage of about one million schoolteachers.

If proof of the gamification concept is needed, consider that TTWF, in partnership with the Sindh Education Foundation, has set up 125 micro-schools over the past year in interior Sindh and deprived urban areas. The foundation has been so impressed with the results that it has just greenlit the establishment of 200 more micro-schools in Sindh.

The good news is that TTWF is not the only nonprofit working in this area. Several others are involved in various stages of the process, including not only the building of micro-schools but also the vitally important tasks of creating content and incorporating it into gaming software.

A confluence of developments in AI and the continually declining cost of hardware such as tablets and solar systems has created a unique opportunity to massively scale up efforts to eradicate illiteracy among children.

TTWF believes that it can, given the resources, set up several thousand micro-schools per year. Compare this to the 30 years it has taken TCF to reach the 2,000-school mark. The gamification of learning presents an opportunity to eradicate illiteracy quickly and cost-effectively. This is an opportunity that Pakistan cannot afford to miss.

The federal and provincial governments must commit to working with organisations such as TTWF to jumpstart the building of micro-schools. This is also an opportunity for the corporate sector to allocate some of their CSR funds. Ultimately, the eradication of illiteracy will propel rapid economic growth.

Let’s start with an ambitious target of at least 5,000 micro-schools per year so that by 2030, there are 25,000 such schools in operation. Then, we must continue to raise the bar until there is not a single illiterate child left in Pakistan.

This article was published in The Express Tribune on March 10, 2025

It is a matter of some personal satisfaction to me that the co-founder and driving force behind TTWF is my HBS classmate and close friend Shafiq Khan.

NQ

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This is the fifth and final letter in the series. The first is at this link.

Marriage is sacred. It is an act of worship and a blessing. An oft-quoted verse in the Quran tells us: And amongst His (Allah’s) blessings is that He created from amongst yourselves wives, so that you may find tranquility with them, and He created between you (the couple) affection and mercy for each other. Indeed, in this are signs for the thoughtful.

And in another chapter, we are told: They (your wives) are raiment for you, and you are raiment for them. The interpreters of the Quran, over the centuries, have marveled at how these words encapsulate the essence of marriage: Just as clothes protect the wearer from heat and cold and sun and rain, so do husband and wife protect each other from the vicissitudes of life.

Popular culture makes much of romance and love. Make no mistake, love of the romantic kind may bring a man and woman together. But, in the end, such love turns out to be, in the words of that master of romance, Thomas Hardy, “As evanescent as steam”.

Marriage is not easy. Making it work takes effort and commitment. It takes understanding, thoughtfulness, kindness, sensitivity, respect, and willingness to compromise, to forgive and to forget. This is what the Quran means by affection and mercy. And this is what really holds a man and woman together long after the “steam” has evanesced.

Clearly a stable and happy marriage provides precisely the ‘habitat’ that is necessary to raise a family. And it is the family that the Shariah considers to be the heart, if you will, of Islamic society. Damaging this heart is tantamount to delivering a mortal blow to Islam. Recognizing the extreme danger of any threats to this ‘heart’ the Shariah provides for a multi-layered defense of the family.

Let me give you an example of what I mean: In talking about adultery the Quran does not say: “Do not commit adultery”. Instead, it uses the phrase: “Do not approach (or come close to) adultery”. The commentators of the Quran attach great importance to the choice of words here: What the Quran is saying is that any circumstances or situations that could put one in proximity of adultery must be avoided. It recognizes that Allah has created man and woman to be attracted to each other. And if people who are attracted to each other are left alone long enough it exposes them to extreme temptation.

And so the Shariah legislates, as it were, to interdict this possibility: It prohibits khulwa – “being alone”; hence a man and a woman not related to each other should not be left alone. It discourages mixed company; hence you will see that in most Muslim societies men and women sit separately at social gatherings, and mixed work environments are discouraged. It urges women to dress modestly in public. It recommends (but does not require) that when women travel far away from home they be accompanied by a mahram – a male relative to whom marriage is not possible – a brother or a father.

So a series of defenses, in a manner of speaking, are put in place which, if adhered to, will avoid complications that can have far reaching, sometimes irrevocable, and damaging consequences. Some people take umbrage at these “restrictions”. They say: Are we not adults? Can we not be trusted? Sadly, a mass of evidence – of broken families, traumatized children, shattered hearts and lives – suggests otherwise.

You have lived long enough and have travelled wide enough to bear witness to the truth of this. It was the rare friend you had at Cheltenham whose parents were still together. And you know how these girls suffered and, perhaps, continue to suffer.

This is the method of the Shariah: In order to take us where we have to go it sets down a series of guidelines. Follow them and you are on the "high road". Disregard them and you are on your own, with your worst enemy – your nafs.

I would be remiss if I were not to mention, before concluding, an issue that fascinates and preoccupies the Western mind to the exclusion of all else that Islam has to offer: Most scholars think that the words of the Quran, coupled with other evidence from the life of the Prophet, suggest that women’s garments should be loose enough so as not to reveal a woman’s figure and that the head should be covered. A very few of them are inclined to the view that the face should be covered as well. In the end, every woman must make up her own mind.

People sometimes worry too much about being able to conform to the requirements of Islam. Here I can only remind you of the unlimited vastness of the Divine Mercy which I spoke about earlier. If you die without ever having said a single prayer, or kept a single fast, you could still go to Jannah if there is Iman in your heart.

A reliable Hadith tells us the story of a man in the Prophet’s time who was a sworn enemy of the Muslims. On his death bed he instructed his relatives to cremate his body after he died and then spread his ashes as widely as they could so that Allah would not be able to resurrect him. The Prophet was informed later by the angel Gabriel that Allah had forgiven this man and sent him to Jannah because his dying wish demonstrated that he had Iman in his heart.

We all try to be “good” Muslims. Of course we fall short. We are not prophets. We are ordinary humans prone, as are all humans, to error and self-delusion. In the end it is the Divine Mercy which flows through the Universe – like gravity – that takes us home whence we emerged.

Let me end with words from the Book we live by: And those who say: ‘Our Lord let our wives and children be the apple of our eyes and let us be exemplars to the pious.’ They will occupy the highest place in Paradise in reward for their patience, and in it they will find a welcoming tranquility.”

Concluded.

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The image above is a page from the book Al-Mustatraf fi Kull Fan Mustazraf (Arabic: المستطرف في كل فن مستظرف), written by Muhammad ibn Ahmad al-Abshihi, it is a celebrated classical Arabic anthology that dates back to the 15th century.

The title roughly translates to “The Delightful in Every Refined Art”. It is a literary compendium that gathers anecdotes, poetry, proverbs, jokes, religious reflections, and social commentary from various disciplines.

The work is known for its wit, wisdom, and cultural richness, offering a panoramic view of medieval Islamic society. It covers topics like ethics, love, hospitality, governance, humor, and religion. It is organized in short chapters or sections, making it accessible and engaging and is often compared to other classical works like Thamarat al-Awraq and al-Iqd al-Farid for its blend of entertainment and moral instruction.

It is widely read in the Arab world and used in traditional education. It reflects the intellectual and social life of the Mamluk period. And its enduring popularity stems from its universal themes and stylistic charm.

The image above is of the chapter entitled in translation: "On humility, gentleness of manner, and lowering the wing (i.e., showing modesty and compassion)."

The chapter mentions several Ahadith1 of the Prophet and sayings from Arabic literature. I’ve excerpted these from the text and translated them below:

Ahadith attributed to the Prophet:

“Humility is the best form of worship”

“Do not take me for more than I am worth and (do not) say what the Christians said about the Mesiah. Indeed Allah accepted me as His servant (عبد) and worshipper before he accepted me as His messenger (رسول).”

It is reported that a man came to speak to the Prophet, but as he spoke, he started to tremble. The Prophet said to him “(هون عليك) go easy on yourself. I am not a king or an angel. I’m the son of a woman of Quraish whose (normal) meal was Qadida (قديدة).”2

He (the Prophet) would patch his own garments, repair his own sandals, and serve those in his household. He was never arrogant or proud and was among the most modest of people. And when he spoke about what he had received from Allah he would do so with extreme humility.

“Forgiveness in a worshipper only increases him in prestige and honour. So forgive and let Allah increase you in your prestige and honour. And, humility in the worshipper only raises him in stature. So be humble so that Allah raises you in stature. And Sadaqah3 only causes your wealth to grow. So offer the Sadaqah so that Allah may increase you in your wealth.”

Muawiya ibn Abi Sufiyan reported that he heard the Prophet say: “Whoever prefers that people stand when they meet him, let him take his seat in the fire.”

Sayings from Arabic literature

It was said that humility is the ladder to respect and dignity.

It is reported that Mutrif ibn Abdulllah (among the most venerated of the Tab’een4 would dress himself in Soof (a garment of the Soofis) and sit among the poor. When he was asked about this he said: “My father was an arrogant man so I preferred to be humble in front of my Lord so that He may forgive my father’s arrogance.”

Mujahid is reported to have said: “When Allah drowned the people of Noah in the flood, the mountains rose up in arrogance while Al-Joudi5 sank in humility, so Allah lifted Al-Joudi above the mountains and made the Ark rest on it.”

Allah is reported to have said to Moses: Do you know why I chose to speak with you from amongst (all the) people? He replied: “No, my Lord.” And the Lord said: “Because I saw you wallow in the dirt in submission and humility to Me.”

It was said that: “Whoever lifts himself beyond his ability earns the hatred of people.”

Abu Muslim, the author of Al-Zakheera said: “Only the ignoble are proud, and only the wretched are boastful, and whoever lowers himself for the sake of Allah is lifted up by Him.”

This is the fourth letter in the series. The third is at this link, the second at this and the first at this.

A few words need to be said about the concept of God in Islam. The Quran puts it succinctly: "There is nothing in existence like Him". This means simply that it is not possible for us to envision Him. He is beyond the capacity of our minds to imagine or conceive. And why should this be surprising? In our era we are privy to the nature of the Universe. Its sheer immensity astonishes us. There are millions of galaxies and billions of stars. Stars are born and die in such extreme conditions that what we perceive to be the laws1 of physics cease to apply.

At the other end of the scale, here on Earth, there are creatures visible only under a microscope or a magnifying glass. Insects such as the ant or bee or fly are marvels of engineering. The Quran tells us that if all of humanity were to come together to create a single fly, we would not be able to do so.

Do our minds really have the ability to imagine what the Creator may look like? I think not. Yet at the start of the Renaissance in Europe something strange started to happen. We see the start of what is called the anthropomorphism of God – God represented as though he was a man.

Look up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and you will see what Michelangelo thought of Him: A bearded, kindly, avuncular figure, covered with a mantle, reaching out tenderly to a nude Adam. Is this the Creator of the Universe, the Lord of the worlds?

Yet, amazingly, this is the image that came to dominate the European mind. God became an elderly, mild mannered, benevolent gentleman. And from there it was only a short step to deny Him. After all, if He was just like us, then what possible help could He be to us? When tragedy or bereavement struck it became easy to ask: How could God have let this happen? Or to ask: If there really is a God how could there be so much wickedness on Earth?

All of this because of an image on a church ceiling? Maybe this is why we Muslims are wary of images of the human form. It does not take humans long for them to worship what their hands create.

But back to our subject: The god of Michelangelo is not the God of the Quran. The God of the Quran - exalted may He be above any description - does as He pleases. His actions are not subject to the judgment of His creatures. As humans we are necessarily creatures of limited vision and intelligence. What may seem like wickedness to us - and God alone knows the truth - may in fact be a blessing. And who are we to say, when we are bereaved of someone we love: How could God have let this happen? Is not the person we love returning to the Creator? Do we not all return? Does the Creator not know what is best? And this is why in Islam when we are bereaved, we say:

إنٌ لله وإنٌ إليه راجعون

Verily we belong to Allah, and to Him we return.

Don't mistake what I mean: Yes, we are sad, and yes, we will dearly miss the departed, but to say that we have been wronged or that injustice has been done is to step beyond the pale of Islam.

It is instructive to note that the Quran never seeks to describe God. Instead, it conveys His power and glory and absolute authority by referring to His ayats or “signs”. We are reminded constantly to contemplate these signs – the mountains, the oceans, the rain, the birds, our bodies, the alternation of night and day, the sprouting of crops and their decay. And since these signs are everywhere, we never, in a sense, escape from contemplating Him. And this is precisely the meaning of what Muslims call taqwa – the constant unrelenting awareness of Him; that He is here, He is watching, and He knows.

It is no coincidence that the verses of the Quran are also called ayats. It is, as it were, that the physical signs in nature and the verses of the Quran have, in a manner of speaking, a single Author. And just to extend this analogy: The Zodiac is very popular in modern culture. Yet its basis is not the improbable premise that the movement of planets and stars can predict the future but rather that all of creation is part of a single Pattern and obeys a single Law. And this takes us back to the concept of tauheed which we spoke about earlier.

To be continued…

This is the third letter in the series. The second is at this link. And the first at this.

In my first message in this series, I talked about the issue of to believe or not to believe. The second was about an eternal message: The religions appear to have an amazing continuity. It is as if the same message is repeated again and again tempered by the requirements of time and location.

If there is a single common theme that pervades the Quran it is mercy. This is not the mercy of a ruler for his subjects or a court for a criminal. The word used in Arabic is: Rahma. This is derived from the Arabic word for womb – Rihm. So it is the mercy of a mother for her baby. It has a connotation of tenderness, love and concern that only mothers experience.

And it is this connotation that characterizes Allah’s Mercy for His creatures in the Quran. And indeed the Quran opens with the words: “In the name of the Rahmaan and the Raheem”. The nouns used: Rahmaan and Raheem represent intensifications in meaning of someone who is merciful. Notice again the reappearance of the same root used in Rihm – womb.

I remember reading the story of a Persian mystic who was travelling at night in the desert. As he was getting ready to sleep, a voice called to him and said: O Abu Firas, shall I tell the people what I know about your inner thoughts so that they may stone you to death?

Abu Firas responded without hesitation: And shall I tell them, My Lord, what I know of your Mercy and perceive of your Grace, so that none may bow to you in prayer again? There was a moment of silence. And then the voice responded: Keep your secret, O Abu Firas, and I shall keep mine.

The story may or may not be apocryphal. But the message it conveys is absolutely in keeping with the spirit of the Quran.

You ask: Is it not ok just to believe and not be a part of any organized religion? We, as humans, cannot place limits on the Divine Mercy. So, the answer to your question cannot but concede the possibility of its premise. In fact, the Quran seems to suggest that whoever dies with Tauheed in his or her heart will not be denied the Mercy of Allah.

But remember that the religions have been revealed to guide humanity. They are like ships that carry travelers across a sometimes dark and stormy sea to an inevitable shore. Aboard ship on a rough sea it behooves you to stand firm. You can of course opt to jump overboard and seek to swim to the shore yourself. But, at best, this is a risky strategy.

You will remember that in Islam we talk about the Shariah. This is the code, based on the Quran and the life and sayings of the Prophet, by which we live our lives. In Arabic the term Shariah means a high road by which animals find their way down to a watering hole.

So the question is: Would you rather walk this “high road” paved by Allah's Mercy that will take you surely to where you have to go? Or would you rather pull out your penknife and cut your own path through the forests and the hills using your own not infallible judgement as your guide?

And for those who walk this “high road” the Quran makes an extraordinary promise:

لَا خَوفٌ عليهِم ولَا هُم يَحْزَنُون

No fear shall come upon them, and neither shall they grieve.

There are a few more things that need to be said. And I hope to come back to these, Inshallah, in my next message.

To be continued…

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On a quiet Friday afternoon in March 2011 something was stirring in the Earth deep under the waters of the North Pacific Ocean. Unknown to people preparing for their weekend on the northeastern coast of the Japanese island of Hokkaido they were about to be hit by one of the largest earthquakes ever to be recorded in human history.

What is now known as the Tohoku undersea megathrust earthquake struck at 2.15pm Japanese time. Its hypocenter was 70 km offshore and it registered a magnitude of 9.0 on the Richter scale. A few moments later a tsunami with wave heights reaching 100 feet washed ashore on the coast of Hokkaido. The waters penetrated up to 10 km inland, razing just about everything in their way. In the next few minutes some 18,000 people had lost their lives.

But they were not the only casualties of that tragic day. At a nuclear power plant on the coast in Fukushima Prefecture the tsunami cut power to pumps supplying cooling water to the reactors and it submerged backup emergency generators.

With no cooling water the cores of 3 operating reactors overheated resulting in core meltdowns, explosions, and loss of radioactive containment. Radioactivity was released and continues to be released into the soil, air and water. A mandatory exclusion zone banning people from coming within 20 km of the plant was imposed.

Three hundred tons of toxic highly radioactive water from the site started to leak into the Pacific Ocean every day. The plant operator - Tokyo Electric Power Company - admitted at the time that it had “lost control of Fukushima”. Radiation in the vicinity of the plant was so intense that it would kill a human exposed to it in 4 hours.

The Fukushima incident is emblematic of the problem with nuclear power: A serious accident results in the release of radiation into the environment. And this is the good news. The real problem is that nuclear fuel and waste products generated in nuclear reactors remain radioactive from tens of thousands to tens of millions of years. When these products are released into the environment in an accident they are there to stay.

While the Fukushima accident was triggered by a natural disaster, similar accidents have occurred at other nuclear plants as a result of human error or equipment failure. The most notable of these was the Chernobyl disaster of 1986 in the then Soviet Union.

The reactor containment vessel exploded due to operator error. The environment was contaminated. Over the years, 4000 people died of radiation induced cancer. The cities of Chernobyl and Pripyat were completely abandoned. A 30 km permanent exclusion zone remains in effect around the accident site. And it may well remain in effect for hundreds if not thousands of years.

Fukushima had a chilling effect on the global nuclear power industry. In Germany, the then Chancellor Angela Merkel, a PhD in physics, understood immediately. Within days of the accident eight of Germany’s seventeen reactors were shut down permanently. All remaining reactors were phased out by the spring of 2023.

Italy held a referendum in which the public overwhelmingly rejected nuclear power. As a result, the government canceled all pending contracts for new reactors.

Switzerland decided to transition away from nuclear power as part of its Energy Strategy 2050. The plan involves closing existing reactors at the end of their operational lifespans and not building new ones

Pakistan, despite a few palliative statements of concern, was unmoved. We have six operating nuclear power plants. Two near Karachi at Paradise Point on the coast of the Arabian sea. And four at Chashma on the banks of the Indus River in Punjab. A fifth reactor at this site is under construction. By the time the Chashma site reaches its planned capacity there will be five operating reactors on the banks of the Indus River.

So do these countries – Germany, Switzerland, Italy – some of the most technologically advanced in the world know something that we in Pakistan do not? Or do we know something that they do not? Why are they shutting down nuclear power plants as we continue to build them?

Indeed Pakistan's Nuclear Energy Vision 2050 aims to significantly expand our nuclear power capacity to meet growing electricity demands. The plan is to generate 40,000 MW of nuclear energy by 2050, with a total of 32 nuclear power plants supplying about one-fourth of Pakistan’s total energy needs.

So what is it that attracts Pakistan to nuclear power as others phase it out? Could it be that we believe nuclear power is cheap?

In the comparison that follows below, bear in mind that the metric used to evaluate the cost of energy sources is known as the Levelized Cost of Electricity (LCOE). It is a measure of the total cost of building and operating a power plant over its lifetime expressed in dollars per megawatt-hour.

This is what the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) has to say about the cost of nuclear power: “The Levelized Cost of Electricity (LCOE) for advanced nuclear power was estimated at $110/MWh in 2023 and forecasted to remain the same up to 2050, while solar PV estimated to be $55/MWh in 2023 and expected to decline to $25/MWh in 2050. Onshore wind was $40/MWh in 2023 and expected to decline to $35/MWh in 2050 making renewables significantly cheaper in many cases.”

Not mentioned in the EIA report is the LCOE of coal, natural gas and oil fired plants. These costs, depending on fuel prices, are as follows: Coal: Ranges from $60 to $120 per megawatt-hour (MWh). Natural Gas: $40 to $80 per MWh. Oil, though generally not used for electricity generation, can exceed $100 per MWh.

Given that nuclear is amongst the most expensive sources of power, why would a poor country like Pakistan commit to building thirty-two reactors by 2050? Not to mention the harrowing risks associated with nuclear power.

There is no doubt that of late there has been much progress in designing safer reactors. But no matter how good the design of these reactors and whatever the safeguards in place, there remains a non-zero probability that something can go wrong.

The consequences, for example, of an incident at the Chashma site can be catastrophic. Radioactive contamination can leak into the Indus and be carried downstream by the river. The intensity and extent of contamination will depend on the seriousness of the leak.

And radiation leaks are notoriously difficult to deal with. Special equipment and training are needed to handle them. Their adverse effects can live on for a very very long time. A technologically advanced nation like Japan was unable to adequately manage a nuclear disaster. What gives us the confidence that we can?

Given the global trend away from nuclear power, building new plants is a questionable idea. But building them upstream on the Indus carries the added risk of diffusion well beyond the accident site.

Pakistan’s Nuclear Vision 2050 was originally articulated in 2013. Since that time renewable energy sources have changed the landscape of power generation. Costs have dropped sharply and availability has proliferated. Perhaps it is time to update Nuclear Vision 2050 in the context of these developments.

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This is the second letter in the series of 5. The first was posted at this link.

In order to answer the questions you pose in your last email some thorny ground has to be cleared. So bear with me and I will get to what you want to know.

One really must start before Islam. In fact, one has to start where we – humanity – start. The Quran tells us that no human community has ever been left without divine guidance. God's messengers have brought His message to humanity from the beginning of time. The Quran mentions their number to be in the tens of thousands. A few are mentioned by name. Most remain anonymous.

Their messages, allowing for local differences and the timing of their descent have always, in essence, been the same. The message Moses brought to his people is the same as what Jesus brought to his and Mohammad to his.

Two questions come to mind: First, why was it necessary to send so many messengers? And second, what about religions that are not mentioned in the Quran such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism? Will not their followers attain to salvation?

It is interesting to note that all the revealed religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) have one very prominent feature in common. This is what is called Tauheed in Arabic. It does not have a sufficiently precise equivalent in English. So I'll explain what it means and retain the Arabic term to refer to it. It is the verbal noun, or the infinitive of the verb wahhada which means: to make one, to unify, to render unique. Simply put it means God is one.

But the meaning extends well beyond this: It means that He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. He is Reality that recognizes no other reality. The universe exists because of Him. He holds, as it were, the electrons in their orbits. And were it not for Him all matter would self-annihilate.

All the revealed religions Judaism, Christianity and Islam are characterized by Tauheed. (Modern Christianity is an exception. But that is a discussion for another time). What is especially surprising though is that many other world religions also have Tauheed at their core.

Hinduism, despite its outward polytheistic manifestation, is in fact at its core the quintessential religion of Tauheed. Zoroastrianism, the religion of the ancient Persians, with its temples of fire and ash, seems a long way from the creed of Tauheed. But in fact, the Muslims recognized Zoroaster as a Prophet of God. When Persia was conquered by the Arabs the Caliph Omar ordered his governor to treat the Persians as “people of the Book”.

The noted Sufi Muslim scholar Frithjof Schuon spent three years of his life living with a native American tribe studying their faith and way of life. In his book of this experience entitled “The Feathered Sun” Schuon eloquently explains that Tauheed was central to the faith of the Red Indian.

Step a little away from religion and read the metaphysical works of the ancient Greeks. You will see Tauheed stare you in the face.

Is not this too much of a coincidence? These diverse religions and creeds varying widely in their chronology and geographical origin and yet so similar in essence?

And now back to the other question I posed earlier: Why so many messengers? Chronology and geography could be an explanation. But the Quran mentions another reason: It is the human trait of forgetfulness and our tendency to take Truth and bend it to suit our convenience.

The words of the prophets are warped to suit human desires. Their books over time become mere shadows of the originals. The crystal-clear stream, as it were, is muddied as it makes its way down the mountain. And so the need to renew it. This is what God's messengers have been doing from time immemorial.

But something very interesting happens when we get to Islam. We are told that there will be no more messengers sent to humanity after Mohammad. And that the message he brings, the Quran, is the last divine message that will be delivered to us.

The natural question is: Why? Why should the stream of messengers have to end? The Quran does not oblige with a direct answer. But those who read it will not help noticing in its words a sense of finality, an allusion that the cycle of time is reaching its shadowed end. God's messengers have completed their task. The time of warning has finished. The Reckoning approaches.

To summarize then: Islam does not claim to be unique. It is simply the renewal of an eternal message that God's messengers have delivered to humanity from the beginning of time. Islam does, however, claim to be final. There will be no more messages to struggling humanity from their Creator.

It is also important to understand that the words of this final message are not those of the Prophet. He was merely the medium of transmission. They are literally, not figuratively, the words of God. The Creator speaks directly to those of His creatures whom He has endowed the ability to understand! Attributing human authorship to these words, as non-Muslims sometimes do, is to do away with the religion of Islam.

And it is the Divine origin of these priceless words that has obliged Muslims, down through the centuries, not to permit even one word in the book to be changed. Its words remain today exactly as they were on the day they descended from the Divine Presence into the heart of the Prophet some fourteen hundred years ago.

Some more ground needs to be cleared before I can get to the specific questions you posed in your e-mail. I will do this, Inshallah, in my next message.

Continued at this link.

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