At a time when Pakistan’s economic crisis has reached alarming levels, with total debt surpassing Rs 75.3 trillion and inflation pushing basic necessities beyond the reach of the common People, the country’s elite continue to indulge in luxuries. The contrast between the suffering of the masses and the extravagant priorities of those in power has never been more glaring. While the common man struggles to put food on the table, top government officials remain focused on acquiring high-end vehicles and enjoying lavish protocols.
In a recent development, Inspector General of Islamabad Police, Syed Ali Nasir Rizvi, was seen inspecting a range of luxury vehicles for potential addition to the police fleet. This inspection comes not during a time of national surplus, but when the country is teetering worst economic crises. The vehicles under consideration include models like the Toyota Hilux Revo GR-S, priced at over Rs 15.3 million, other Revo variants starting at around Rs 12 million, the Toyota Fortuner ranging between Rs 14.4 million to nearly Rs 20 million, and various Isuzu D-Max models valued between Rs 13.5 and 15 million. These are not modest upgrades—they are premium vehicles that reflect a mindset completely detached from the economic pain facing the majority of the population.
This raises serious questions about priorities and accountability. Are the current vehicles in the Islamabad Police fleet truly unfit for duty? If not, what justifies this new inclination toward extravagant spending? And more crucially, what about the hundreds of vehicles that have been seized at customs and left idle? Why can’t these vehicles be repurposed for official use? Choosing already available resources in favor of unnecessary purchases only deepens the financial strain on the national exchequer.
At such a critical juncture, the country needs leadership that leads by example. There is an urgent need for the Prime Minister, Shahbaz Sharif, and the Federal Interior Minister, Syed Mohsin Naqvi, to take strict action against such unnecessary expenditures. Symbolic gestures of austerity are no longer enough—what Pakistan requires now is a tangible shift in how public money is used. If the state expects sacrifices from its citizens, it must begin by setting a precedent through its own actions.
The public is not blind. They see the sharp contrast between their hardships and the luxuries enjoyed by those in power. When families are skipping meals and living without basic utilities, watching officials glide by in multi-million-rupee SUVs under heavy protocols is not only disheartening—it is deeply unjust. This isn’t governance; it is exploitation.
Pakistan’s survival now depends on honesty, responsibility, and the willingness of its leaders to forgo luxury in favor of national interest. The burden of reform must start at the top, or the weight of continued misgovernance will crush what little hope remains.
