By Nasir Aijaz
The AsiaN Representative
ISLAMABAD: In a country riddled with economic instability, rampant inflation, and growing public frustration, the federal government’s recent decision to raise the salaries of parliamentarians and top officials by up to 600 percent has drawn widespread outrage. While the announcement was buried under technical budget jargon, the implications were glaring: those in power have chosen to insulate themselves from the economic crisis while leaving the average citizen to face the storm alone.
This decision comes at a time when Pakistan is grappling with a record-breaking inflation rate, hovering around 25 to 30 percent, with food inflation often exceeding 40 percent in urban areas. Electricity tariffs have skyrocketed, fuel prices remain volatile, and the Pakistani rupee continues to lose value. Amidst this chaos, the government’s decision to grant only a 10 percent increase in the salaries of public servants—many of whom are already living hand to mouth—feels not just unfair, but grossly unethical.
According to the budget documents and media reports, the new salary structure drastically increases the allowances and perks for: Members of the National Assembly and Senate, Federal ministers and ministers of state, Speaker and Deputy Speaker of the National Assembly, Chairman and Deputy Chairman of the Senate and Advisors and Special Assistants to the Prime Minister.
These increases include enhanced basic pay, improved utility and housing allowances, travel benefits, daily allowances for attending sessions, and medical perks. Some officials are now drawing monthly salaries and benefits well over Rs.1 million, all funded by taxpayers who can barely afford basic commodities.
For instance, the monthly salary of the Speaker of the National Assembly has been raised from approximately 200000 Pakistani rupees to nearly Rs.900000 Pakistani rupees, besides other perks and privileges including free electricity, fuel etc. Similar increases have been applied to federal ministers, pushing their monthly compensation into the stratosphere compared to average citizens.
Contrast this with the plight of a lower grade-government employee earning around Rs.40, 000 per month. After rent, school fees, transport, and groceries, most of that money is gone by the first week of the month. A 10 percent raise—amounting to Rs.4000—does little to offset rising utility bills or the cost of flour and cooking oil. Surprisingly, the retired government employees have been granted only a seven percent increase in their pension.
Public school teachers, nurses, junior health staff, sanitation workers, police constables, and lower judiciary employees—who form the backbone of public service—are expected to survive in conditions where their purchasing power is diminishing daily. Most cannot afford proper healthcare, decent housing, or even safe drinking water for their families.
While the elites talk of “fiscal constraints” and “austerity,” the working-class lives in austerity every day—not by choice, but by compulsion.
What makes the situation worse is the hypocrisy embedded in these decisions. Just months ago, government leaders were urging the nation to “brace for tough times” and to “sacrifice luxuries for the greater good.” Public sector development projects were slashed, subsidies on electricity and fuel were removed, and international loans were sought to avoid default. Yet, no austerity is visible in the lifestyles of the political elite.
Prime ministers and chief ministers continue to move in long protocol convoys. Government guesthouses are lavishly maintained. High-level foreign visits, funded by the national exchequer, continue unabated. In short, the people are told to tighten their belts while the rulers loosen theirs.
The recent budget in Pakistan has placed an immense burden on the shoulders of the country’s most vulnerable and hardworking populations—daily wagers, laborers, peasants, and workers in both the formal and non-formal employment sectors. These groups, often already struggling to make ends meet, find themselves squeezed further as they face heavy taxation policies that offer no relief or respite. For many, this translates into increased financial hardship, limited savings, and a deeper sense of economic insecurity. Despite their crucial role in sustaining the nation’s economy, especially in agriculture and manual labor, they remain neglected by policymakers, with little to no targeted support or safety nets. This neglect amplifies their suffering and underscores the urgent need for reforms that prioritize the welfare of these essential, yet marginalized, segments of society.
The reaction on social media and public forums has been intense. Hashtags like #UnfairBudget, #EliteLoot, and #ParliamentarianPayRaise have trended, and political satire shows have slammed the government for rewarding non-performance. Civil servants’ unions have expressed disappointment, and some have threatened symbolic protests.
More importantly, the move has widened the trust deficit between the government and the governed. When people see that lawmakers are more concerned about their own paychecks than the conditions in hospitals, schools, and streets, it fuels hopelessness—and hopelessness is dangerous in any society.
This isn’t the first time Pakistan’s political elite has put itself ahead of the people. Throughout Pakistan’s history, every major regime—civilian or military—has increased benefits for top officials without corresponding relief for the poor. Pension reforms, housing schemes, and subsidies are designed more for the privileged than the needy. The common man’s suffering is acknowledged only during election campaigns.
At its core, the issue is not about numbers but about values. When those elected to serve the people prioritize their own luxuries over public welfare, they erode the very foundation of democracy. In Pakistan, the social contract is already fragile. Moves like these shatter public faith further, pushing citizens toward despair or disobedience.
Until the political elite starts living under the same economic realities as the common man, no amount of budgetary jargon or public relations spin can mask the truth: this is not a government of the people—it is a government above the people.
