When the first brick is crooked: poetry, economics and our future

Khisht-e-awwal chun nahad memar kaj

Ta Surraya miravad deewar kaj

(When the builder lays the first brick crooked, the wall will remain crooked even up to the star

Surraya — known in English as the Pleiades).

This Persian couplet, attributed to Saadi, is more than a poetic aphorism; it is a timeless truth about foundations, be they walls or nations.

Some time ago, Pakistan's Finance Minister held a press conference brimming with optimism and carefully chosen numbers. When confronted with the IMF's stark critique of our economic mismanagement, he brushed it aside, pointing to longstanding structural problems dating back to independence. But here lies the problem: no structure — economic or architectural — can stand straight if its first bricks were laid crooked. Decades of patronage, ad hoc policies and elite capture are precisely those crooked bricks. To speak now of heading in the right direction without acknowledging or correcting these foundational distortions is cosmetic optimism at best. As Ghalib bitterly observed:

Hain kawakib kuch nazar aatay hain kuch

Detay hain dhoka yeh baazigar khula

Glittering numbers can deceive; behind the shine, reality remains stubbornly unyielding.

Another anonymous Persian couplet complements this lesson beautifully:

Har binaye kohna ke badan konand

Bayad awwal kohna ra viran konand

(Whenever an old structure is to be rebuilt, it is imperative to demolish the old first).

Patchwork reforms, half-measures or cosmetic adjustments will never produce a straight wall. Only by clearing the crooked foundations can new structures rise true and resilient.

This is exactly the principle behind a modern economic insight: the Theory of Creative Destruction. First formally articulated by Joseph Schumpeter in his 1942 book, Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy, it explains how innovation-driven growth requires the dismantling of outdated and inefficient structures. Entrepreneurs and innovators do not merely add to what exists; they destroy what is obsolete to make way for what is productive. The process is often uncomfortable, sometimes chaotic, but it is the indispensable engine of lasting progress.

Schumpeter understood that stagnation is the natural consequence of preserving old structures. In economic terms, a society that clings to outdated policies, inefficient industries or monopolistic practices condemns itself to mediocrity. Growth cannot simply be summoned by optimism or by selecting favorable statistics — it requires structural transformation, the courage to dismantle old systems, and the vision to build anew.

In 2025, this principle was further reinforced when Nobel laureates Philippe Aghion of France and Peter Howitt of the United States developed the mathematical foundations of Schumpeter's theory. Their work demonstrated that innovation-driven economies are inherently disruptive: old industries must crumble, outdated policies must fall, and only then can productivity and growth flourish. Creative destruction is not a threat — it is a prerequisite for nations seeking sustained progress. It is a theory grounded in both history and empirical research, and its lessons are particularly relevant for Pakistan.

The parallels with our economic reality are striking. Decades of policy reversals, cronyism and inefficient governance are the crooked bricks and decrepit walls that the Persian poets so vividly described.

Cosmetic measures — temporary subsidies, politically convenient tax relief, or short-term spending programs — cannot correct what has been fundamentally mismanaged. The country's economy, like a crooked wall, can only be straightened by addressing the structural distortions at its core.

History also reinforces the lesson. Countries that have embraced structural reforms, even when politically difficult, have achieved remarkable economic transformation. South Korea, Taiwan and Singapore, for instance, underwent periods of creative destruction — disruptive reforms, dismantling inefficient state monopolies and opening markets to innovation — and emerged decades later as dynamic economies. Pakistan, in contrast, has consistently delayed necessary reforms, tolerating inefficiency and short-term political expediency. The crooked bricks, accumulated over generations, now require courageous dismantling and thoughtful reconstruction.

The Persian poets and modern economists converge on the same truth: foundations matter. Without honesty, transparency and courage, neither walls nor economies can stand straight. The choice is stark: embrace the uncomfortable but necessary process of renewal, or continue building on crooked bricks, hoping the stars will forgive the flaws below.

For Pakistan, the lesson is both poetic and practical. Numbers that glitter cannot substitute for structural reform. Innovation cannot flourish on foundations of cronyism. And hope cannot replace the hard work of demolition and reconstruction. Only by clearing the crooked bricks of the past, laying new, straight foundations, and embracing reform with courage can we hope to build a resilient, prosperous future — a wall, as the poets remind us, that truly reaches toward the stars.

In summation, the wisdom of centuries-old Persian poetry and the rigour of Nobel Prize-winning economic theory converge into a single, inescapable truth: there is no shortcut to progress. A nation that fears creative destruction will remain trapped in the crooked walls of the past, while one that dares to rebuild on solid principles can aspire to the stars. Pakistan's future depends on that choice.