- By: Muhammad Mohsin Khan (Rajput)
“How strange that the dwellers of dust may never know where to look; Wherever they search in the dust, may your memory not turn into a treasure of pearls.”
This is the sacred land of Pakistan, every inch of which has received the eternal promise of the Qur’an:
“And We desired to bestow Our favor upon those who had been oppressed in the land, and to make them leaders and to make them the inheritors.”
(Al-Qasas: 5)
Yet, sadly, today the four corners of this land have become so autonomous that the throne of the federation lies almost vacant, while the ruler of each province has come to regard himself as the king of his own kingdom.
The night when the 18th Amendment was introduced in the name of democracy left the federation so weakened that when the federal government collects the national revenues, a major portion of them reaches the provinces through the National Finance Commission, leaving the Centre financially constrained like a merchant whose entire capital has been distributed among his partners.
The formula for the distribution of divisible revenues is divided among the four provinces almost as though it were an old system of inheritance. In effect, the provinces have been endowed with wealth reminiscent of Qarun’s riches, yet they remain unwilling to transfer even a single rupee upward or downward when another part of the country is in need.
Consider the case of the vast region of FATA. When it was merged with Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the Sartaj Aziz Committee, in its research report, clearly recommended that three percent of the divisible pool should be allocated to FATA for ten years so that the region could be brought at par with the rest of the country. Yet eight years have passed, and that three percent has remained imprisoned in documents of promises.
Whenever implementation has been discussed, every government has responded with the same excuse: Sindh is not willing to agree. It is as though the reluctance of one province has held the future of an entire nation hostage.
Ironically, Sindh itself is witnessing roads in cities like Karachi turning into ruins, while much of rural Sindh continues to suffer from inadequate basic facilities. Yet it still remains reluctant to share resources with other regions in need.
This tragedy, however, is not limited merely to the distribution of resources. More importantly, the Constitution itself provides for three levels of government: the federation, the provinces, and local governments.
Sixteen years have passed since the 18th Amendment, yet none of the provinces has genuinely transferred meaningful financial and administrative powers to local governments. Local elections have occasionally been held under the orders of the courts, but these councils have largely been reduced to a mere façade, while the concept of Provincial Finance Commissions has also remained largely ineffective.
A Chief Minister in a province enjoys such extensive authority that if he allocates one hundred billion rupees to one district and merely one billion to another, there is virtually no effective mechanism to hold him accountable for such disparity.
This is why, despite the extraordinary increase in provincial resources, there has been no corresponding transformation in the lives of ordinary citizens.
A pedestrian in Karachi still sees the city’s roads reduced to ruins. A patient in Muzaffargarh is still compelled to travel all the way to Lahore for treatment. A traveler from Kashmore may spend an entire day reaching Karachi. The valleys of Chitral become disconnected from Peshawar during winter, while across the vast expanse of Balochistan, traveling from one district to another can consume an entire day and night.
These provinces were neither created purely on linguistic grounds nor on historical foundations. Rather, they represent an administrative structure that, over time, has acquired the appearance of permanence.
Punjab is home to Saraiki- and Potohari-speaking populations; Balochistan is inhabited by Pashtuns and Brahuis; Sindh has large Urdu-speaking, Pashtun and Punjabi populations; while Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is home to significant Hindko-, Chitrali- and Saraiki-speaking communities.
If these provinces are neither linguistically nor historically homogeneous, then there should be no objection to reconsidering their division or administrative restructuring for the welfare of the people.
Either new, smaller provinces should be created so that administration can be brought closer to the people, or empowered administrative units should be established at the divisional level within the existing provinces. These units should receive a predetermined share directly from the provincial divisible pool according to a transparent formula.
Such a decision should be made through a referendum of the people rather than being left to the political interests or convenience of any political party or individual.
Those who have already transferred trillions of rupees abroad may eventually leave this country themselves. But we have to live on this sacred soil.
If we continue along this path of misguided governance, the day is not far when this land will leave its own people trapped in the darkness of poverty and despair. God forbid, we may eventually find ourselves lamenting the loss of everything we once possessed.
The decision lies in the hands of the people. And choosing not to decide is itself a decision but its consequences may be even darker.