By S.M. Inam
There exists a parallel universe to the one most Pakistanis inhabit, a realm of air-conditioned conference rooms and carefully managed press releases. In this world, often headquartered in Washington D.C. or London, the language of economics is one of percentages, stable outlooks, and reaffirmed ratings. It is here that Pakistan’s Finance Minister, Muhammad Aurangzeb, can recently meet with the World Bank’s Ajay Banga, speaking of strengthened partnerships and fiscal discipline. It is here that the affirmation of a ‘B-’ credit rating from an agency like Fitch is not just a technical notation but a cause for quiet celebration, a signal to the global financial club that the nation, against a torrent of challenges, remains at the table. There is a palpable, understandable relief when the arbiters of international capital offer a nod of cautious approval, a sense that the macroeconomic ship, after being tossed in a perfect storm, is finally being steadied.
Yet, step outside these rarefied halls and the official narrative collides, with a sickening crunch, against the daily reality of life for millions. The discourse shifts abruptly from stable outlooks to profoundly unstable lives. The monster of inflation is not a data point on a chart; it is the quiet anxiety in a shopper’s eyes at the vegetable market, the difficult calculation of how to stretch a dwindling salary to the end of the month, the silent forgoing of meat or fruit that was once a staple. The scourge of unemployment is not a statistic; it is the demoralizing drift of a university graduate sending out his hundredth application, the collective sigh of a household whose primary earner has been laid off, the simmering frustration of potential being wasted day by day.
This is the profound and painful paradox of present-day Pakistan. The government, with one hand, proudly showcases its international engagements and points to the harmony of rating agencies as proof of its competent stewardship. Yet, with the other, it seems unable to deliver the tangible fruits of this supposed stability to the kitchen table. One is compelled to ask a simple, devastating question: if investment is truly flowing and the economic graph is indeed ascending in the manner suggested by these reports, why does the domestic sphere feel so much more barren? Why does the distance between the ledger and the larder feel like a chasm too wide to cross?
The issue is not necessarily with the technical accuracy of these credit ratings, which operate on their own complex calculus of sovereign risk and fiscal management. The real, pressing question is what symbolic value they hold for a public being crushed by the cost of living. For the parent skipping a meal to ensure their child has enough, the news of a ‘stable outlook’ is not just meaningless; it is a form of cruel satire. It underscores a disconnection between the metrics of international finance and the metrics of human dignity. The government’s touted digital ambitions, for instance, are hamstrung by an internet infrastructure so chronically unreliable that it is actively driving away major IT and software firms, with neighboring countries reaping the windfall. The very freelancers who were hailed as a new frontier of foreign exchange earnings are left battling intermittent connectivity, their livelihoods sacrificed at the altar of infrastructural neglect.
Therefore, the task for the government is not to simply continue presenting these ratings as a balm for public anxiety. That energy is misplaced. The monumental, tangible work that awaits is not in the conference rooms of foreign capitals, but in the gritty, unglamorous trenches of the domestic economy. It is the work of slashing inflation not through temporary administrative measures, but through deep-seated structural reforms that boost productivity and break supply chain bottlenecks. It is the work of creating jobs not in the ephemeral digital space alone, but in the robust sectors of manufacturing, agriculture, and small-scale industry that form the backbone of the nation.
The true measure of economic success will not be printed on a report from New York. It will be felt. It will be the day the common person feels a sense of security returning, when the specter of joblessness no longer haunts every family gathering, and when foreign investors begin to clamor for entry, unsolicited by government roadshows. On that day, no press release will be needed. The evidence will be written in the welfare of the people, in the full shelves of the shops, and in the hopeful faces around the family table. The people’s patience, and their pockets, are not infinite. The clock is ticking, and it is measured not in fiscal quarters, but in the mounting struggles of each passing day.
(The writer is a former government officer and a senior analyst on national and international affairs, can be reached at inam@metro-morning.com)
