Pakistan’s polycrisis – its economic volatility, political turbulence, social fragmentation, and institutional decay – has one common denominator: a breakdown of governance.
Decades of elite capture, politicisation and policy drift have hollowed out the architecture of the state; institutions now crumble in slow motion, unable to convert authority into service, law into justice or resources into public good. Governance, which should embody transparency, accountability, and responsiveness, has mutated into a machinery for opacity, control and mere survival.
Good governance is normally defined as the interaction of laws, institutions, processes, and leadership that channels public power in a manner that is transparent, participatory, accountable, rules-based, equitable and strategic. Its purpose is to use public authority and resources responsibly and fairly to secure rights, deliver services, promote sustainable development, and build trust. Six attributes capture that purpose: rule of law, accountability and integrity, transparency, responsiveness and effectiveness, participation and inclusion, equity and fairness. Pakistan falls short on all six.
Rule of law, the system’s foundation, is buckling. More than 2.4 million cases choke the courts. Legal redress is costly and slow; and selective enforcement lets power-holders evade consequences while ordinary citizens face endless delay. After the 26th Amendment, executive encroachment on judicial appointments has intensified scepticism about independence. Police forces remain politicised and undertrained, cementing a justice pyramid that burdens the weak and cushions the powerful.
Accountability and integrity exist largely on paper. Parliament’s Public Accounts Committees seldom complete inquiries, while the auditor general’s reports, already late, gather dust. Anti-corruption agencies such as NAB and FIA swing between inertia and selective zeal, pursuing headline cases while systemic abuse continues. Civil servants rarely face performance reviews tied to outcomes, and cabinet members almost never resign over failures.
Transparency is treated as a threat. Federal and provincial websites are outdated; procurement data and cabinet minutes are kept secret; and right-to-information requests are routinely stone-walled. E-governance pilots collapse midway for want of political backing or bureaucratic comfort. In this information vacuum, corruption finds oxygen and public trust evaporates.
Responsiveness and effectiveness have withered. Ministries report billions spent, yet track no measurable impact. Mega projects proceed without rigorous feasibility or maintenance plans; schools lack teachers, hospitals run out of basic medicines, and infrastructure decays even before ribbon-cuttings fade. Inter-agency coordination – the whole-of-government approach – is virtually absent, replaced by bureaucratic silos and turf wars.
Participation and inclusion are also in retreat. Local governments, designed to bring the state closer to citizens, are suspended, underfunded or dissolved outright. Parliamentary debate has thinned; private-member bills die on arrival; civil society and the press face increasing restrictions. As civic channels narrow, street protests and social-media outrage fill the void, further polarising politics.
Equity and fairness erode daily. Tax regimes tilt toward indirect levies that squeeze the poor, energy tariffs rise while line losses go unpunished, and climate shocks hit the most vulnerable communities first. Regional disparities widen as resource allocations mirror political bargaining rather than need.
Five actors dominate this bleak tableau – parliament, the executive, the judiciary, political parties and an unelected establishment. Parliament, theoretically the people’s forum, has been reduced to a ceremonial hall. Attendance is sporadic, question hour perfunctory, and legislation is often drafted by ministries or donors and rushed through without scrutiny. Budget sessions last days, with token cut-motions and no programme-based debate.
Even the passage of constitutional amendments is driven less by deliberation and more by elite bargains struck off the floor. Committees, the engineroom of oversight, are under-resourced; their summons are ignored by ministers who know sanctions are unlikely. As a result, parliament neither shapes national priorities nor checks executive power.
The executive, meant to translate policy into outcomes, is paralysed by politicisation and institutional churn. Ministers are appointed based on loyalty rather than competence; secretaries rotate every few months; project directors lobby for postings that promise rents. Long-range planning documents abound – Uraan Pakistan, SDG roadmaps and other similar programmes – but their indicators are rarely integrated into ministry scorecards.
Provinces, reliant on National Finance Commission transfers, have little fiscal autonomy or incentive to raise their own revenue. Consequential decisions, from energy subsidies to foreign borrowing, are often made ad hoc, driven by short-term political calculus or emergency bailouts from abroad.
The judiciary symbolises the last resort but struggles under weight and whispers. Delays erode justice; legal costs exclude the poor; contradictory judgments sow uncertainty. Judicial policymaking – via suo-motu notices – fills governance vacuums but also blurs the separation of powers, inviting backlash. Internal accountability through the Supreme Judicial Council is rare and opaque, fuelling perceptions of impunity. Trust, once lost, is hard to recapture.
Political parties, the DNA of representative governance, behave as electoral corporations. Most leaders lack vision and commitment to public interest; internal elections, when held, are stage-managed; manifestos are marketing brochures rarely consulted post-poll. Candidate tickets are given to electables who deliver biradari votes, not policy ideas. Between elections, lawmakers queue for development grants rather than legislative research. Policy think-tanks within parties remain skeletal, reinforcing a politics of personalities over programmes.
Hovering above these civilian arenas is an unelected power structure that has ruled directly for nearly half of Pakistan’s history and continues to shape security, foreign relations, and increasingly economic policy. Its informal veto over civilian decision-making creates parallel lines of authority, dilutes elected mandates, and discourages institutional strengthening that might limit its remit. The shadow of such influence pushes politicians to seek patronage from the unelected rather than constituencies, judicial verdicts are dissected for signals of approval by the powers-that-be, and bureaucrats hedge decisions lest they cross invisible red lines.
When these five actors malfunction in concert, a vicious cycle takes hold: legislation loses relevance; policies lack continuity; justice is delayed or manipulated; politics is reduced to patronage; and real power drifts to opaque quarters exempt from electoral or fiscal scrutiny. The macro-effects are palpable. Investors price instability into loans and equity; donors demand reforms that the system cannot credibly execute; citizens disengage or rebel; climate adaptation stalls; and regional conflicts find fertile ground in governance vacuums.
Yet history shows that governance failure can be reversed. Countries ranging from Indonesia to Rwanda to Estonia to India have rebuilt battered institutions by anchoring reforms in the very attributes Pakistan now lacks: principles-based justice, transparent data, meritocratic administration, local empowerment, and civilian supremacy. Pakistan’s challenge is not diagnosing the disease, but mustering the coalition, courage, and continuity required to treat it.
The next part of this essay sketches that treatment plan – how parliament can reclaim oversight, how the executive can be tied to outcomes, how the judiciary can restore credibility, how political parties can democratise, and how unelected power can work as part of the constitutional order. Without such recalibration, the republic will remain a façade – visible in form, hollow in function – and the costs of dysfunction will keep falling on those with the least power to escape it.
To be continued
The writer is a former managing partner of a leading professional services firm and has done extensive work on governance in the public and private sectors. He tweets/posts @Asad_Ashah
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