Tariq Mahmood Awan
The tragedy of Dr. Faustus by Christopher Marlowe explores the rise and fall of a man of great intellect and ambition who trades his soul for power, command, and gratification. This age-old tale of a man blinded by desire and corrupted by authority finds unsettling resonance in the contemporary character of Pakistani civil servants. While Marlowe’s Faustus sells his soul to the devil in exchange for twenty-four years of omnipotence, many in Pakistan’s bureaucracy strike similarly ruinous pacts, not with a literal Mephistopheles, but with the temptations of power, influence, and personal gain. This comparison, though literary in origin, captures the moral, legal, and institutional decay that afflicts Pakistan’s administrative apparatus.
The idealism with which aspirants enter Pakistan’s Central Superior Services (CSS) or Provincial Management Services (PMS) exams mirrors the scholarly fervour of Faustus. Young men and women, driven by ambition and the allure, often see the civil service as the ultimate platform for impact, glory and recognition. However, in theory, and as upheld by the Supreme Court of Pakistan in a binding judgment under Chief Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry, the civil servant is the lawful executor of the Constitution and guardian of public interest. They must uphold law, equity, and administrative justice. Yet, in practice, this ideal is sacrificed at the altar of expediency, political allegiance, and personal aggrandisement. Much like Faustus, who begins his journey as a brilliant scholar but is undone by his own hubris and thirst for forbidden power, Pakistani civil servants often devolve from reformist idealists into instruments of power abuse and complicity.
At the heart of this decay lies the systemic failure to insulate the civil service from power, money and greed. The allure of plum postings, discretionary powers, and illegal perks seduces many bureaucrats into adopting a transactional mindset. Promotions and transfers become currency, and the rule of law becomes flexible. Bureaucrats begin to serve political and additional masters instead of constitutional imperatives, thus drafting illegal notifications, manipulating land records, and bending procurement rules to please those in power. Each act of compromise chips away at their original purpose, mirroring Faustus’ descent from a man of intellect to a jester in Lucifer’s court. This moral erosion is not incidental; it is structural and deliberate. Where Faustus signs away his soul in blood, Pakistan’s bureaucrats metaphorically sign their ethical death warrants each time they prioritise loyalty over legality.
The symbolism between Faustus and civil servants becomes sharper when we consider the temporary nature of the rewards. Faustus enjoys his powers for twenty-four years before facing eternal damnation. Similarly, civil servants who trade ethics for advancement may thrive temporarily but ultimately face professional disgrace, public accountability, or worse, irrelevance. Some are prosecuted for corruption; others are discarded by political patrons once their utility ends. In the twilight of their careers, many become bitter, disillusioned, or anonymous. The legacy they leave behind is not one of reform or integrity but of systemic rot and betrayal of public trust.
This betrayal has far-reaching implications. First, it corrodes the legal and constitutional structure by normalizing violations of rules and due process. When civil servants bypass laws to implement political & personal directives or engage in malpractices, they undermine the very foundation of lawful governance. Second, the administrative apparatus becomes inefficient and unjust. Merit is replaced by favoritism, accountability by secrecy, and performance by sycophancy. Third, and perhaps most devastatingly, this Faustian culture erodes societal trust in state institutions. Citizens who observe that rules apply selectively and that bureaucrats serve power rather than the public lose faith in governance. This disillusionment contributes to apathy, unrest, and the erosion of civic values.
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Moreover, the current civil service culture stifles reform and innovation. The bureaucratic inertia, compounded by a risk-averse and power-centric mindset, ensures that structural reforms in taxation, education, policing, and health remain elusive. Honest officers who attempt reform often find themselves isolated, sidelined, or punished. Meanwhile, those who conform to the status quo are rewarded. This creates a self-perpetuating cycle of mediocrity and decay, where survival depends not on competence but on compliance. In this environment, the soul of the civil service is not just sold; it is extinguished.
One could argue that not all civil servants fit this mold. Indeed, there are those who resist, who strive to uphold legality, and who serve with integrity. But they are exceptions, often marginalized by the very system they seek to reform. Without systemic safeguards, institutional backing, and cultural change, these individuals remain anomalies. The majority, shaped by the prevailing incentive structure, succumb to the same fate as Faustus: the gradual loss of purpose and identity in the pursuit of transient power.
The consequences are stark. Pakistan’s governance crisis is not just a function of political instability or economic mismanagement; it is deeply tied to the compromised character of its civil service. When the bureaucratic machinery ceases to function as an impartial, rule-bound, and people-centered institution, governance collapses into chaos and cronyism. This, in turn, deepens poverty, inequality, and disenfranchisement. The moral rot in bureaucracy thus becomes a national crisis, affecting everything from justice delivery to public welfare.
To arrest this decay, Pakistan must confront its Faustian bureaucracy. Reform must begin with depoliticizing appointments and ensuring security of tenure. The performance evaluation system needs an overhaul to reward integrity and innovation rather than compliance and connivance. Training programs must emphasize constitutional literacy, ethics, and public service orientation rather than bureaucratic elitism. Above all, there must be a political consensus to empower ( As per the Law ), not control, civil servants. Without such reforms, the bureaucracy will remain a handmaiden to power, not a servant of the people.
Hence, the story of Dr. Faustus is not just a cautionary tale from Elizabethan literature; it is a mirror to the modern soul of Pakistan’s civil service. Like Faustus, the bureaucrat begins with noble ambition but is soon seduced by the allure of unaccountable power. The tragedy lies not only in the personal downfall of these individuals but in the institutional decay they perpetuate. If Pakistan is to reclaim governance as a force for good, it must break this Faustian bargain and rebuild a bureaucracy anchored in law, morality, and service. Lastly, I will suggest that each civil servant read Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe.
