Those at the top are feasting on this country’s very flesh and bones — as if shame were extinct — ripping them apart with unapologetic teeth and not even bothering to muffle the chewing sound anymore. Just look at Sindh’s latest masterstroke of misgovernance. Its PA has unanimously rammed a bill that fattens their salaries and lines their nests with privileges they don’t deserve. This is the only time these two sides unite and swing the hatchet straight into the public purse.
The new law serves Sindh’s lawmakers a smorgasbord of perks on the taxpayer’s tab: from housing and travel to utilities, medical care and even official cars for committee heads. Now, even the leader of the opposition gets to live like a pampered provincial minister. Again, opposition and treasury — sworn rivals on camera – yet always united when it comes to milking the state and stuffing their pockets to the point of bursting.
Sadly, politicians aren’t the only ones at the trough. The gangrene runs through the entire system. Khawaja Asif recently let slip another ugly truth: hordes of bureaucrats secretly pocketing Portuguese passports. They masquerade as public servants whose official incomes can scarcely sustain a middle-class life. Yet somehow, they amass foreign real estate, overseas bank accounts and second passports (a miracle you won’t find elsewhere). You and I both know why. And they don’t just leave. They leave untouchable and smug, their pockets stuffed to the gills. This isn’t speculation. Parliament’s own records lay bare at least 22,000 bureaucrats holding dual nationality in outright violation of Pakistani law. That’s not a loophole. It’s a mockery.
Now read Khawaja’s revelation alongside the Panama and Dubai Leaks, a roll call of the country’s supposedly respectable elite — members of his own party, PPP heavyweights, former generals, ex-judges and a whole cavalcade of the country’s most entitled power-brokers. Offshore properties, luxury, palatial flats and secret assets: the kind of success stories you’ll never see in a school textbook, but every child somehow learns by heart. Different uniforms, same addiction.
Meanwhile, the country they’re bleeding dry can’t even guarantee labourers the legal minimum wage. The message is simple: say no to human rights and justice, say yes to our perks.
A retired professor struggles to cobble together enough to perform Hajj. But a retired bureaucrat is sipping wine in Lisbon, watching his grandchildren play in a villa he bought with ‘savings’ from government service. Same pay scale, same service years, same official retirement, but loot maar makes all the difference. Loot-and-leave: the national retirement plan.
They loot, they legislate their loot into law, they cash out and leave. And the rest of us stand amid the wreckage, paying the price, listening to speeches about patriotism from people who’ve already bought their one-way ticket out. What patriotism is left in a man whose future is parked abroad? In Pakistan, we’ve perfected the ‘grab now, disappear later’ model of public service.
They tell us the country is staring down grave challenges. They tell us austerity is essential. But the same politicians and bureaucrats who preach austerity to the poor and powerless write themselves fatter paycheques and perk packages, like a diet coach secretly eating cake in the kitchen. They’ve turned the state into their own bottomless ATM. They elevate their lifestyles while dragging everyone else down.
The majority may be authority in a democracy, but here, the minority – the entrenched, well-connected political, bureaucratic and judicial elite — runs the show. They write the rules, break the rules and then rewrite the rules to cover their tracks.
The state is their all-you-can-eat buffet and we’re left washing the dishes.
Tighten your belts, Pakistanio!
