The polio crisis in Sindh, particularly in Karachi, is spiraling out of control, yet those responsible for its eradication seem more preoccupied with social gatherings than the relentless spread of the virus. The stark contrast between the reality on the ground and the conduct of officials tasked with tackling the epidemic is not just an administrative failure—it is a betrayal of public trust. The frontline and field workers battle misinformation, refusals, and logistical challenges as well as alleged abuse and harassment from their supervisors with job insecurity, if not being oblige, while the leadership overseeing this life-or-death campaign appears disturbingly detached, indulging in events at the Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi, instead of responding with the urgency the crisis demands.
Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, in a high-level meeting, made no attempt to hide his displeasure. Karachi, the epicenter of the polio resurgence, has seen more than half of its union councils underperforming in vaccination efforts. The situation is grim, and the prime minister’s concerns are well-founded. He ordered a comprehensive review of the polio campaign, from the performance of field officers to the effectiveness of training initiatives. Sindh’s Chief Secretary Syed Asif Haider Shah, known for his rigid stance against inefficiency, was present in the meeting, yet his oversight of the Emergency Operations Centre (EOC) in Sindh has not translated into any tangible progress. Under EOC administration, resources that should be directed towards vaccination and public awareness are being squandered on leisurely assemblies and extravagant donor-funded gatherings that do little to address the crisis on the ground.
The timing of such events speaks volume about the misplaced priorities of those in charge. Just two days before a critical polio campaign was set to begin, officials spent an entire day engaged in ceremonial activities—an inexplicable distraction from the pressing task at hand. What scientific rationale could possibly justify such a gathering, especially when previous so-called ‘initiatives’ have been little more than performative experiments? The decision to appoint schoolchildren as “Polio Ambassadors” in vaccine-hesitant communities was one such ill-fated “initiative,” lacking foresight and practical execution. Unsurprisingly, it failed. The EOC Sindh, rather than learning from past missteps, continues to waste time and resources on hollow, short-lived strategies, all while the virus spreads further.
At the heart of this crisis is not just administrative incompetence but a deeper, more insidious problem—the commercialization of Pakistan’s health sector that treats public welfare as a business venture. For many officials, eradicating polio is not a national emergency but a donor-funded project that sustains their influence, allegedly lines their pockets, and paves the way for future foreign citizenships for them and their family members. Pakistan’s health emergencies, rather than being tackled as matters of grave concern, are instead leveraged for securing international aid, with little accountability for results. The public, meanwhile, is forced to endure the consequences of a system that values financial inflows over human lives.
The Sindh polio team’s failures over almost two years have not gone unnoticed. The program has been repeatedly misused for purposes beyond polio eradication, raising serious ethical and governance concerns. And yet, those in power remain silent, reluctant to confront the glaring mismanagement within their own ranks. The reason is obvious: the children suffering from polio are not the children of the privileged elite. They are the children of working-class families, of laborers, of those who do not have the luxury of private healthcare or medical evacuations abroad. This is the stark divide between the ruling class and the people they govern—a divide that is growing wider with each passing day.
Pakistan’s credibility in the global fight against polio is already on shaky ground. Reports suggest that Bill Gates, during a recent meeting with Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, expressed deep concerns over the country’s failure to produce results despite extensive international funding. Gates reportedly hinted at a potential reduction in financial support, a move that would be a damning indictment of Pakistan’s inability to manage its own health crises. Foreign donors are well aware of the mismanagement plaguing the polio program, and their patience is wearing thin. In Sindh, the initiative operates in an environment of ad hoc decision-making, where leadership is resistant to accountability and reform efforts are suffocated by a powerful inner circle that fiercely protects its own interests.
But remember, polio is just one part of Pakistan’s broader healthcare collapse. Maternal and child health remains in an abysmal state, with mortality rates that would be considered unacceptable in any functioning society. Across Sindh, expectant mothers are forced to travel up to 50 kilometers for even the most basic healthcare services, a damning reflection of a system that has failed its most vulnerable citizens. If international donors are truly reconsidering their commitment to Pakistan’s polio program, perhaps it is time they redirect their resources towards broader healthcare initiatives—ones that address maternal and neonatal care, ensuring that Pakistan’s future generations are not condemned to lives of preventable suffering. This crisis is not merely about polio—it is a reflection of a governance system that has failed at every level. It is about a leadership class that has abandoned its duty to protect public health in favor of self-serving interests. It is about bureaucrats who see health programs as financial pipelines rather than humanitarian imperatives.
It is about a country that, if it does not take immediate corrective action, will become a case study in how institutional neglect and corruption can lead to the irreversible devastation of an entire generation. The time for ceremonial meetings and superficial commitments has long passed. Pakistan does not need another conference, another round of donor discussions, or another empty promise from officials who have proven time and again that they are not up to the task. What it needs is action. It needs accountability. It needs a leadership that understands that the cost of inaction is not just a failed campaign but the lives of countless children who will suffer the consequences of this institutional apathy. The writing is on the wall. Pakistan can either change course now or continue down this path of negligence and failure. But let there be no doubt—history does not look kindly upon those who betray the public trust. And the day of reckoning, whether these officials acknowledge it or not, is fast approaching.
