THE foundational basis of Pakistan and the objectives behind the country’s creation remain a subject of debate. One side emphasises religion above all else and argues that the basis for creating Pakistan was Islam itself. On the other hand, some commentators contend that Pakistan was created for the residents of specific regions, the majority of whom were Muslims, so that they could live their lives freely and without subjugation. Although religion was undeniably important, the primary goal was to secure the people’s free will and freedom.
Even without debating which worldview is accurate — if any — we can agree on a few truths. First, Pakistan was born through the will and struggle of its people. Second, the decision to create Pakistan was achieved and affirmed through their votes. And finally, Pakistan was brought into being through a process that can, arguably, be considered democratic.
In essence, the establishment of Pakistan was people-centric. And when the ‘people’ in question share a single culture, language, history, and geography, it becomes easy to categorise them as a monolithic community with a singular identity. However, when a nation comprises diverse ethnic groups with distinct cultures and histories running parallel to one another, neatly situated in separate regions of a land seeking to unite, the mechanics of political representation necessarily change.
Unlike a single monolithic community represented by a unitary voice, multiple distinct communities seeking union often have separate representatives, at least initially, to protect their specific interests within the broader polity. The union is not the merging of a single people, but a voluntary arrangement among distinct communities with shared goals. To achieve this, these communities, through their representatives, discuss, negotiate, and agree on the union’s dynamics, defining which powers are transferred to the central state and which remain local.
Commentators frequently overlook the foundational premise of the nation itself.
This process transfers sovereignty from individual communities to a united entity that becomes greater than the sum of its parts, while protecting regional rights and identities. The goal of such a union is a better shared future; unity is seen as offering greater benefits than division. This fusion of distinct groups into a singular national framework is the essence of entering into a social contract.
Pakistan, which is home to diverse ethnicities and communities, is said to have entered into precisely this type of union right after independence. For many, that social contract was earlier epitomised by the Lahore Resolution of 1940; for others, it was crystallised in the 1973 Constitution. Whichever document one examines, the formal recognition and celebration of diversity are recurring themes.
Pakistan was always intended to be pluralistic, with communities coming together to pool their resources and cede certain freedoms for the collective good. Pakistan came into being for them, not despite them. Abdul Wali Khan articulated well the vision of what Pakistan could be, noting that despite their distinct identities, the federating units were akin to “flowers with their distinct colours and fragrance” that “blend into a bouquet, manifesting their unity in diversity”. Ultimately, the country’s founding idea is rooted in protecting its people, their cultures, languages, and rights. That is what it ought to be, and whether anyone likes it or not, this is what it was always meant to be.
Why is this discussion so critical today? Because when commentators debate whether creating more provinces is necessary for a prosperous Pakistan, whether local governments need to be strengthened, or whether addressing the missing persons issue is key to winning hearts and minds, they frequently overlook the foundational premise of the nation itself. This premise is intrinsically linked to the people’s will and aspirations. As with any major decision, altering provincial boundaries, whether by creating fewer or more provinces or restructuring existing ones, must remain a choice driven directly by the people whose goals are bound to Pakistan’s genesis. Similarly, the people must decide the role of local governments, and the resolution of the missing persons crisis must be as great a priority as the people make it.
If you remove the popular will from this decision-making process, you strike at the core of Pakistan’s founding identity. You not only carve up administrative boundaries and dismiss popularly held convictions, but also dismember the very vision articulated in the 1940 Resolution, codified in the 1973 Constitution, and reaffirmed through the 18th Amendment.
Democracy is neither a luxury that Pakistan cannot afford nor is it a failed concept. If anything, when allowed to function, democratic governance is the single thread that has kept this federation together throughout its turbulent history. It maintains the vital link between the state and the populace that gave it birth. If new administrative units are to be carved out or other consequential decisions to be taken, those decisions belong exclusively to the public, not to self-appointed arbiters who claim to know better than the citizens themselves.
After all, armies did not create Pakistan; the people’s vote did. War tacticians did not envision Pakistan; politicians, lawyers, and civilians did. A war did not lead the nation to independence; a barrister did. Consequently, the bond between the Pakistani state and its citizens is as intrinsic and consequential as water is to fish, instruments are to musicians, and ‘national interest’ is to our armed forces.
If you remove the people from decision-making, you strip away the soul of the country. What remains is merely a land without a people, a people without a voice, and a country without a purpose, with nothing left but despair.
The writer is a lawyer based in Karachi.
X: @basilnabi
Published in Dawn, October 1st, 2026
