Ruling without rules: Pakistan's core problem

There is a moment, chilling in its clarity, when you realise that a state is no longer run by rules but by moods. In Pakistan, we have crossed that line. Decisions of immense national consequence are made in closed rooms by actors not named in the Constitution. Laws are applied with surgical precision against opponents but with surgical avoidance when friends are in trouble. We have normalised the abnormal: ruling without rules.

The rule of law is not an ornamental democratic principle; it is the oxygen of any functioning polity. It is what turns power from raw force into legitimate authority. And it is not democracy's exclusive property — history offers examples of authoritarian systems, such as Singapore or pre-reform China, that understood the economic and political value of predictable, impartial enforcement of laws. Without it, a country can neither inspire confidence at home nor attract credibility abroad.

Investors — foreign or domestic - are not swayed by patriotic slogans or glossy brochures. They study the terrain for a different kind of security: Will my contract be honoured if the other party is politically connected? Will my property rights hold if tomorrow's power broker dislikes today's deal? In the absence of such assurance, capital is merciless — it flees. And when money leaves, talent follows. The two most telling markers of Pakistan's current trajectory — capital flight and brain drain — are not mysteries to be solved; they are symptoms of a deeper institutional rot.

Economies can grow without democracy, but none can grow sustainably without rules. Even the so-called "miracle" economies with limited political freedoms had one thing in common: clear legal frameworks that governed business transactions, property rights and administrative processes. Where Pakistan stumbles is in mistaking short bursts of economic growth under authoritarian setups for proof that we can bypass institution-building altogether. Every time, the cycle repeats: a burst of stability, a flow of money, a few years of applause — followed by crisis, collapse and finger-pointing.

In our case, the absence of rule of law is not a gap but a governing style. It thrives on selective enforcement: today's lawbreaker can be tomorrow's ally, rehabilitated overnight without due process. Meanwhile, ordinary citizens navigate the system not by trusting institutions but by cultivating personal connections. When the average citizen feels the law is a gamble, not a guarantee, national cohesion fractures. The state ceases to be a neutral arbiter and becomes one more competitor in the scramble for advantage.

This erosion of trust is not just bad politics — it is bad economics. Investors prefer low taxes, but they will tolerate high taxes if rules are predictable. They can adjust to red tape if it is applied evenly. What they cannot tolerate is arbitrariness, because arbitrariness destroys the ability to plan. In such a climate, money goes underground or overseas, and skilled professionals take their ideas, expertise and dreams with them. The result is a low-trust equilibrium where everyone assumes the worst, and everyone is right.

So how does one break this cycle, especially in a hybrid system where extra-constitutional forces have entrenched themselves in decision-making? The answer is not to wait for the perfect democratic moment but to begin with institutional footholds. Even incremental, narrowly focused legal reforms — commercial courts with binding timelines, autonomous regulators with insulated funding, digitised land records immune to tampering — can start building a culture where rules matter. The key is consistency: once a rule is set, it must survive the rise and fall of governments and the shifting alliances of the powerful.

International experience shows that once citizens and businesses begin to believe in even a small pocket of impartiality, the demand for expanding that space grows. It is a slow process, and it will be resisted by those who profit from chaos. But the alternative is to continue on our current path, where laws are mere tools of convenience, institutions are shells, and the Constitution is treated as a suggestion rather than a binding contract. This path, however, is bound to keep us dependent, miserable, and always vulnerable to storms!