An Open Letter to My Pakistani Friends in the Drawing Rooms of New York, London, Paris and Dubai
For more than forty years I have listened to the same conversation in drawing rooms across New York, London, Paris and Dubai. The moment Pakistan is mentioned, the verdict is instant: “It’s a failed state.” Spoken with such certainty that I finally stopped attending those gatherings. I could no longer bear the rabid, corrosive negativity — especially from those who claim to love Pakistan the most.
I am writing this because I am tired of the hypocrisy. I am tired of hearing Pakistan condemned by its own people living in comfort abroad while the country continues to do things nobody expected.
Let me be clear from the beginning. Pakistan is not a success story in the conventional sense. It is messy, flawed, often infuriating, and full of deep problems. I have never denied that. What I completely reject is the lazy, repeated label of “failed state.”
I say this as someone who actually belongs there. I was born there. I still run factories there. I employ and train three to four hundred people there. I export from there. I see the raw industriousness and ingenuity of ordinary Pakistanis every single day. That is why I cannot stay silent when the same tired narrative is repeated by people who haven’t spent a difficult day in that country for decades.
Today Islamabad is at the centre of global attention. When America and Iran stood hours away from a devastating war, it was Pakistan that pulled both sides back from the brink. The Americans had given up. The Saudis and Kuwaitis had given up. Pakistan stepped in and stopped it.
Now the same voices are asking in disbelief, “How can a failed state do this?” The answer is simple: because Pakistan has been doing exactly this for seventy-eight years — rising to the occasion when the world needs it, with whatever little it has, at the lowest possible cost.
In 1947 it began with almost nothing — ten percent literacy, no industry, three percent of the region’s economy, and millions of refugees. Yet it survived.
It lost the eastern rivers in the Indus Waters Treaty and responded by building one of the largest irrigation systems on earth. From barely five million tons of food grain at independence, it now produces enough to feed its people and export. Mangla, Tarbela, and now Dasu Dam — massive projects built in a seismic zone by a perpetually cash-strapped country. As an engineer, I still marvel at them.
They carved the Karakoram Highway through the Himalayas and Karakoram. Over a thousand men died building it. That road connects the Arabian Sea to western China. A failed state does not make that kind of sacrifice.
I see the same spirit in my own workshops. We rebuilt a sixty-year-old Ford engine using parts from three dead ones. In Pakistan, a Skoda runs on a Toyota engine. I was quoted €110,000 for laser doors in Paris — we made them for under €7,000. This is not backwardness. This is survival intelligence.
Our entire system is built for extreme stress. An army that runs on a fraction of Western budgets still manages to push back threats on multiple fronts. Despite falling for wrong heroes and slogans at times, the centre held. Jamaat-e-Islami never took power. No theocratic takeover happened at the ballot box.
For five thousand years this land was the plunder route into India. That cycle ended in 1947. Pakistan became the buffer that finally held.
That same geography is why the world came to Islamabad this week. Iran listens to Pakistan. Saudi Arabia trusts us. China and America both turn to us when it matters. No other country carries that unique credibility.
My friends, you know every flaw of Pakistan. That is true. But you refuse to see the structure beneath those flaws. You study the failures, but not the resilience.
The biggest enemies of Pakistan are not Indians. Most Indians I know are reasonable. The real damage comes from within — from Pakistanis who have made it their mission to run down their own country in every drawing room.
I still believe in Pakistan because I see what it continues to achieve against impossible odds. It is not built for comfort. It is built for survival. A system that only truly performs when pushed to the limit.
And when the hour comes, this nation still comes.
That is why I had to write this.
Because a failed state does not do what Pakistan keeps doing — again and again.
With respect,
Iqbal Latif
Today, Islamabad is the centre of the world.
Two days ago, the phones in Islamabad were ringing nonstop. Washington. Tehran. Riyadh. Beijing. Ankara. Cairo. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Field Marshal Asim Munir pulled off something that the big powers, the Arabs, the Qataris, the Emiratis, and even the Americans had given up on — they stopped a war between the United States and Iran that was hours away from exploding into something catastrophic.
People are already whispering about Nobel nominations. Jealous voices are screaming: “How can a failed state do this?” The answer is simple — because Pakistan has done this for seventy-nine years. When the world needs a pivot, when two sides cannot talk directly, when escalation is about to swallow the region, Pakistan rises to the occasion with whatever little it has, at the lowest possible cost, and it never fails in its obligations.
Let me take you back so you understand what just happened.
In 1971, Pakistan brought Richard Nixon and Mao Zedong together. Kissinger flew through Islamabad because no one else could open that door. In 1979, when the Soviets invaded Afghanistan, Pakistan became the frontline state that bled the Soviet Union dry. It took the refugees, the blowback, the chaos, and still stood. Those two moments alone changed the twentieth century. Now, in 2026, Pakistan has just done it again — this time stopping a direct clash between the world’s superpower and a defiant Iran that was ready to go down fighting.
Why Pakistan? Because geography made it inevitable. Iran listens to Pakistan. Saudi Arabia trusts Pakistan — we have a defence treaty with them. China sees Pakistan as its most reliable front in the region. The Americans know we have shed blood together since 1979. Pakistan is the only country that carries credibility with all of them at the same time.
When Iranian hardliners were talking martyrdom and Americans were preparing devastating strikes, it was Pakistani diplomats and military leaders who sat them down and said one thing: “Destruction is easy. Construction is difficult.” They reminded Iran that closing the Strait of Hormuz sounds brave until your own people start starving. Iran has the second-largest oil and gas reserves in the world — it does not want to be a pariah forever. It wants to feed its people and become a great country again through peace, not through endless war.
Pakistan told both sides the hard truth. It used its relationship with Saudi Arabia to keep the Gulf stable. It used its trust with China to pressure Iran at the right moment. It used its history with the United States to create the backchannel when direct talks had completely collapsed. UAE and Qatar, who used to be the brokers, were suddenly nowhere to be seen. Oman was sidelined. Because when it really mattered, only Pakistan could deliver.
This is not a one-off miracle. This is the pattern of Pakistan’s entire existence.
Look at what this country built from nothing.
In 1947 we started with ten percent literacy, no industry, three percent of the region’s economy, and borders drawn in blood. After losing the eastern rivers in the Indus Waters Treaty, we did not beg — we built Mangla Dam in 1967 and Tarbela Dam in 1976. Massive earth-fill structures that turned a water crisis into one of the world’s largest irrigation systems. Today we are building Dasu Dam — thousands of megawatts and millions of acre-feet of storage in a seismic zone — while the country is broke and under pressure from every direction.
From five million tons of grain in 1947 we now produce over fifty million tons in a good year. We feed our own people and still export. A failed state does not create food surplus while fighting on multiple fronts.
They carved the Karakoram Highway through the Himalayas and Karakoram — more than a thousand men died building it. It links the Arabian Sea to western China. A failed state does not sacrifice hundreds of its sons to build a strategic lifeline at the top of the world.
I have seen this same spirit in our factories. We took a seventy-year-old Ford engine that should have been in a museum or a scrapyard. We Frankenstein’d it back to life using parts from three dead engines. A Skoda runs on a Toyota block. I priced laser-cut doors in Paris at 110,000 euros — we delivered the same quality in Pakistan for 7,000 euros. This is not poverty. This is adaptive genius forged under permanent constraint.
Our cost structure is our unfair advantage. An army that operates on eight or nine billion dollars does what others spend fifty billion trying to do. We pushed back the Soviets. We cleared our tribal areas from terrorists. We hold the Line of Control. We face TTP, BLA, political chaos, and economic crisis simultaneously — and we still deliver.
For five thousand years this land was the invasion highway. Khyber. Bolan. Silk Road. Looters came through and sacked Delhi again and again. That plunder stopped in 1947. Pakistan became the buffer that finally held. No more Panipat. No more Somnath. That is not an accident — that is the mantle of this nation.
Despite every ideological fever — romanticising the wrong heroes, falling for strongman slogans — we never crossed the final line. Jamaat-e-Islami never took power. No theocratic takeover at the ballot box. The messy, flawed centre held.
Now the world is jealous because it should have been India doing this. India had every advantage — bigger economy, bigger population, democracy from day one. Instead of building deep trust with China like Pakistan did in 1971, India chose endless border feuds and false pride. Pakistan gave up those ego battles with China and gained a relationship that serves the entire region today. That is why both America and China trust us when it matters.
Pakistan stands on the right side of history again and again. We stood with the West against the Soviets while others stayed neutral. We stopped the export of Iran’s revolution toward Saudi Arabia and told them clearly: “We have a defence treaty with Saudi — do not put us in that corner.” We condemn extremism whether it comes from the Taliban, from Tehran, or from anywhere else. Do whatever you want inside your borders — just do not export your chaos to us or our friends.
This is what Pakistan is.
A nation that rises to the occasion every single time the world needs it. With little resources. At low cost. Under extreme stress. Never failing in its obligations. When the hour comes, the nation comes.
That is why today Islamabad is the centre of the world. That is why people are talking about Nobel Prizes for the two men who pulled this off. That is why the envious are screaming “failed state” louder than ever — because the failed state just did what no one else could.
A failed state does not broker ceasefires between nuclear-armed powers and superpowers.
A failed state does not build dams, highways, and food surplus while fighting for survival.
A failed state does not earn trust from Washington, Beijing, Riyadh, and Tehran at the same time.
Pakistan just did all three — again.
So the next time someone calls us a failed state, look them in the eye and ask:
Then why is Islamabad, not New York, not London, not Riyadh, not Doha — but Islamabad — hosting the talks that just stopped a war the whole world had given up on?
Because a failed state does not do this.
And Pakistan just did.
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1BXsXFgmBz/?mibextid=wwXIfr