Working towards a people’s Pakistan

In the war between Pakistan and India -- this time, Pakistan did not just hold the line; it turned the tide. Victory came not only on the battlefield but also in the hearts and minds of the global community. Diplomatically, morally and strategically, Pakistan stood its ground and emerged triumphant. But now, as the drums of celebration begin to fade and the confetti settles, a sobering truth awaits us.

Let us not sugarcoat the truth, for to do so would be both dishonest and hypocritical. It is time we call a spade a spade: since 1947, Pakistan has not been truly free – only passed from one pair of colonial hands to another, cloaked in native garb. The chains changed shape, not substance. We’ve been governed by those who inherited power but not purpose, who traded conscience for convenience and patriotism for personal or group interests.

With their hollow slogans and choreographed salutes, these self-proclaimed patriots shout louder than the truth can breathe. They occupy podiums and pulpits, branding dissenters as traitors, while generations of Pakistanis continue to drink from muddy wells and give birth under the flicker of oil lamps – if they are lucky enough to survive childbirth at all. Children waste away from hunger and disease. Families cradle the dead before they ever cradle justice, or dignity or hope.

These are symptoms of a system rigged for the few and ruinous for the many. Those who wield power today treat Pakistan not as a nation to serve, but as spoils to divide.

How dare we ask these people -- the betrayed, the broken, the left behind -- to love a country that has never loved them back? Demanding patriotism from those whose only inheritance has been pain is not just unjust but shameless.

Yes, India’s marginalised suffer too – perhaps more so – but their suffering is not our alibi. Our reckoning lies not across the border, but in the broken backs and buried dreams within our own.

Now, let us return to the war – a war not just fought, but won. It was a moment of unity, of resilience, of brilliance in motion. Our armed forces stood tall, unwavering. The Pakistan Air Force soared to staggering heights, executing with precision and audacity.

The leadership rose to the occasion whether clad in uniform or civilian clothes. And most of all, it was the people -- the ordinary, everyday Pakistanis -- who stood as the spine of this resistance. Shoulder to shoulder, handin hand, we endured and we triumphed.

Yes, China’s support mattered – and let us not tiptoe around that truth. Their fighter jets, their cutting-edge technology played a key role. But we must understand: when pushed against the wall, every nation draws on its alliances and arsenal. It is neither shameful nor unusual. Yet even the most advanced weapons are only as good as the will behind them. And the will to win – that belongs to the people.

But this victory offers us more than pride; it offers us a profound lesson. We must ask: how did China become what it is today – a behemoth not only of warcraft but of wealth, science, and human ingenuity? In 1980, its GDP was a modest $180 billion. It crossed the $1 trillion mark only by the year 2000. And now, measured by purchasing power parity, it stands at a staggering $43 trillion. How did China climb this mountain at such breathtaking speed? The answer lies not merely in numbers but in philosophy. China chose a path we have so far feared to tread – the path of inclusiveness. At the core of its rise is a radical belief: that every citizen matters. Every child born under its sky carries potential, and the state exists to unlock it.

In contrast, both Pakistan and India have remained shackled to outdated hierarchies, societies built on exclusion, marginalisation and deep inequality. In our part of the world, privilege speaks the loudest and poverty dies the quietest.

Inclusiveness is a strategy. It means equipping every citizen -- not just the elite -- to contribute to national progress. It means investing in the intelligence, creativity and well-being of the entire population. It means transforming the farmer’s daughter, the street vendor’s son and the slum child into scientists, engineers, thinkers and leaders.

China did something else, too. It harnessed the transformative power of what I call the globalisation of IKRID – Information, Knowledge, Research, Innovation, and Development. After 2000, the world was swept by a tidal wave of digital revolution. China dove in. We stood at the shore. They built an engine of progress powered by a dynamic sci-tech-human power complex – a synergistic fusion of science, technology, and human capital. We, meanwhile, were busy polishing GDP figures and building towers that cast shadows over forgotten schools and dying clinics.

This, perhaps, is our greatest failure of direction. We’ve mistaken concrete for progress. Poured billions into mega-projects while neglecting the most precious resource of all: our people. Imagine what could be achieved if even a fraction of that investment went into education, health, research – into the minds and hearts of the millions we leave behind.

This is unjust, anti-people and, ultimately, anti-Pakistan. We do not need more ribbon-cuttings. We need revolutions of the mind. If we truly want to build a powerful Pakistan, we must build powerful Pakistanis. Not a country that dazzles on paper, but a country that breathes, thinks and thrives through the strength of its own people.

Let this war, this victory, be our final wake-up call. Not for more weapons, but for more wisdom. Not for applause, but for action. The future will not be built by tools alone. It will be built by hands, hearts and minds we have too long ignored. It’s time we finally let them lead and finally handed the reins to the people to lead, to rise and to turn our vast, untapped wealth of natural resources into the engine of a truly prosperous Pakistan.

The writer is an advocate of the high court and a former civil servant.