Tahir Maqsood Chheena
Whenever members o Pakistan’s National Assembly, Provincial Assemblies, Senate, or other public representatives receive salary increases, an intense wave of criticism erupts across social media and streets alike. This visceral public reaction seems justified on the surface—inflation continues unabated, unemployment persists, and basic services like healthcare and education remain woefully inadequate. Meanwhile, public trust in elected officials has eroded to historic lows.
The outrage, however, reveals a troubling double standard in Pakistani political discourse. While the judiciary and bureaucracy receive salary enhancements with minimal public scrutiny, legislators—the direct representatives of the people—face extraordinary backlash for similar adjustments. This inconsistency deserves deeper examination, particularly when Pakistan’s democratic institutions already struggle for legitimacy against more entrenched power centers.
Pakistan’s legislature suffers from a perception deficit that cannot be separated from its performance problems. Many elected representatives rarely attend sessions, contribute minimally to legislative debates, and appear in their constituencies only during election seasons. The public rightfully questions: Why increase compensation for absentee lawmakers? When parliamentarians fail to articulate policy positions, scrutinize budgets, or challenge executive overreach, their demands for higher salaries appear particularly tone-deaf.
The salary debate also intersects with Pakistan’s profound economic inequality. In a country where nearly 40% of the population lives below the poverty line and the minimum wage barely covers subsistence, parliamentary salaries—even before increases—represent extraordinary privilege. Each raise widens the perceived gap between representatives and those they purportedly serve, especially when lawmakers simultaneously resist meaningful tax reforms that might affect their personal wealth.
Yet focusing exclusively on salary figures oversimplifies a complex institutional problem. The real question isn’t whether legislators deserve more money, but whether Pakistan has built a system that attracts dedicated public servants rather than opportunity-seekers. The country’s dynastic politics, feudal power structures, and expensive electoral contests ensure that assemblies remain dominated by the wealthy elite, regardless of salary levels.
Comparative analysis with other democracies reveals that adequately compensated legislators are less vulnerable to corruption and external influence. India, Bangladesh, and other regional democracies have wrestled with similar questions about legislative pay, ultimately recognizing that underpaid representatives become susceptible to improper financial arrangements. A legislator perpetually concerned about personal finances cannot effectively advocate for national interests against powerful lobbies.
The media’s portrayal of legislative salaries often lacks crucial context. Parliamentary compensation packages typically include not just base salary but allowances for staff, constituency offices, travel, and other essential democratic functions. When these resources are insufficient, representatives either neglect responsibilities or supplement them through questionable means. Either outcome undermines democratic governance.
Pakistan’s democratic transition remains fragile after repeated military interventions. Building robust democratic institutions requires more than just periodic elections—it demands professional, independent legislators capable of balancing executive power and military influence. This professionalization necessarily includes appropriate compensation reflecting the position’s responsibilities and deterring corruption.
The salary controversy also highlights the absence of performance metrics for elected officials. While bureaucrats and judges face at least nominal evaluation systems, legislators operate without standardized accountability mechanisms beyond elections every five years. Implementing attendance requirements, legislative performance reviews, and constituency service assessments would create a more rational basis for determining appropriate compensation.
The paradoxical public position—demanding honest, capable representatives while resenting their professional compensation—reflects deeper frustration with systemic failures. Citizens intuitively recognize that salary increases alone won’t transform a dysfunctional democratic system into a responsive one. Without comprehensive electoral reforms, campaign finance regulations, and transparency requirements, adjusting parliamentary pay merely tinkers at the margins.
Perhaps most significantly, the salary debate distracts from more consequential discussions about power distribution in Pakistan’s political economy. The real privilege of elected office lies not in official salary but in access to patronage networks, land allocations, development funds, and regulatory influence. These unofficial benefits far outweigh formal compensation and remain largely invisible to public scrutiny.
A more productive national conversation would acknowledge legitimate concerns about legislative performance while recognizing that building effective democratic institutions requires appropriate resource allocation. Rather than fixating on salary figures, Pakistan might better address representation quality through electoral reforms, performance standards, and transparency measures that align representatives’ incentives with public service rather than personal enrichment.
Until Pakistanis can trust that their votes translate into genuine representation rather than elite entrenchment, no salary—high or low—will resolve the fundamental disconnect between the people and their purported representatives. The outrage over parliamentary pay reflects not just economic concerns but a deeper democratic deficit that salary adjustments alone cannot remedy.
