By S.M. Inam
Once again, in the dead of night between Thursday and Friday, the government raised the price of petrol and diesel – the fourth such increase in barely six weeks. A formal notification confirmed a hike of 6.51 rupees per litre for petrol and a staggering 19.93 rupees for diesel. Kerosene, a vital fuel for the poorest households, was reduced by a token 4.45 rupees. The new prices now stand at nearly 400 rupees per litre for both petrol and diesel. Only two days earlier, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif had told his cabinet that global crude prices were touching the sky and that a fresh adjustment was therefore unavoidable. And so, as April drew to a close, the notification landed.
At the very same time, however, the prime minister was also promising the public substantial relief in the upcoming budget. He announced a one-month extension of subsidies for motorcycle riders and public transport, and launched a housing scheme – “Apna Ghar” – aimed at the poor and middle class, under which banks would supposedly provide loans of up to 10m rupees at a 5% mark-up for the first ten years, spanning all four provinces, Gilgit-Baltistan and Azad Kashmir. In meetings with senators and members of the National Assembly, he spoke of the Gulf war’s fallout and insisted that relief for economically vulnerable sections would continue. “As much as possible,” he said, “we will keep providing relief to the people.” These announcements came just as the fourth fuel price rise was about to land. On the surface, they appear welcome.
However, the ground reality is far more bitter. For in a country like Pakistan – where transport, agriculture, industry and the delivery of essential goods all run on petrol and diesel – a fuel price increase is never just about fuel. It cascades instantly into transport fares, vegetables, fruit, flour, sugar, cooking oil, milk and every other basic commodity. Purchasing power erodes, silently and steadily, in every household. The government is not wrong to point to the global spike caused by the Gulf war. But that only raises the same stubborn question: why is it always the ordinary citizen who must bear the full weight of these external shocks? Has any comprehensive strategy been devised to cushion the impact? Has any effective action been taken against hoarding, profiteering and artificial inflation?
On the ground, no such action is visible. Instead, what one sees is a striking absence of accountability for the profiteering mafias that thrive on scarcity. That absence casts a long shadow over the quality of governance itself. Pakistan’s real problem is not merely rising fuel prices; it is the steady constriction of income. Millions of young people are unemployed. Small businesses are struggling. Industry is moving at a crawl. The middle class is sliding towards the poverty line. When essential goods become even more expensive under such conditions, mere survival becomes an act of endurance. How does a government employee, a laborer, a rickshaw driver, a farmer or a daily wager manage his household on a fixed, shrinking income? The answer is not to be found in the government’s comforting platitudes.
The “Apna Ghar” housing scheme is, in principle, a positive step. Every citizen dreams of owning a home. A bank loan of up to 10m rupees at 5% mark-up could, in theory, help. But past experience teaches a different lesson: such schemes tend to benefit those who are already somewhat financially secure. For the poor and the lower middle class, banks’ documentation requirements, guarantees and instalment plans often prove unaffordable. If the government genuinely wishes to give people a home, it must make the scheme simpler, transparent and truly within reach of the ordinary citizen. Likewise, a one-month extension of transport subsidies may offer temporary relief, but it is no solution at all. What happens after that month? If prices rise further, will another subsidy be announced?
If the government itself admits that inflation will rise, how can the prime minister’s cheerful promises of budget relief be credible? When the budget is being shaped to meet IMF conditions – and clear signals to that effect are already emerging – there is little room left for genuine public relief. Past experience with IMF programs tells a consistent story: taxes increase, subsidies shrink, and the burden on ordinary people grows. It means making the tax system equitable, so that the burden is not borne solely by salaried and poor households, but also by large capitalists, landlords and the undocumented economy. It means creating new employment opportunities, so that young people have a future and incomes can rise. In addition, it means a serious review of the petroleum levy and other unnecessary taxes.
What the public needs right now is not heart-warming rhetoric but genuine relief. If the government fails to take popular hardship seriously, then alongside inflation will grow restlessness, anxiety and a profound distrust of governance itself. A state’s responsibility is not merely to collect revenue but to provide its citizens with a dignified life. That is the foundational principle of any welfare state. Instead of testing the patience of the people any further, the government must act – swiftly, concretely and sustainably – because those crushed by economic pressure can no longer afford to live on promises and pleasant declarations alone.
(The writer is a former government officer and a senior analyst on national and international affairs, can be reached at inam@metro-morning.com)
