A Tale of Meritocracy’s Failure in Pakistan

 Under the Table:

 A Tale of Meritocracy’s Failure in Pakistan

Mubasher Mir

Meritocracy—the belief that individuals should rise by virtue of talent, hard work, and integrity—has long been presented as the ideal foundation of any successful society. Yet in Pakistan, merit often finds itself strangled under the heavy weight of favoritism, nepotism, and under-the-table deals. The consequence is not just a broken system of recruitment; it is a nation-wide disillusionment that continues to suffocate generations of professionals, thinkers, and dreamers.

I write this piece not as an abstract observer but as a witness—and participant—in the very processes that claim to champion meritocracy but collapse under its weight when confronted with power, politics, and vested interests

A Personal Window: The State Bank Episodes

In 2008, when Pakistan was transitioning after the assassination of Benazir Bhutto, Yousaf Raza Gilani rose as Prime Minister and Asif Ali Zardari took charge as President. Amid this reshaping of political power, the State Bank of Pakistan (SBP) announced vacancies, including the critical post of Chief Spokesperson.

Like many journalists and communication professionals, I applied. The competition was tough; more than twenty seasoned candidates, each with years of field experience, were shortlisted. The promise was clear: a rigorous, merit-based process that would identify the most competent candidate.

But as is often the case in Pakistan, reality diverged from rhetoric. Instead of appointing fresh talent, the SBP extended the tenure of the incumbent, Wasimuddin, who was nearing retirement. That decision may have suited the status quo, but it shredded the very spirit of meritocracy. It signaled that institutions valued continuity of “trusted” faces over infusion of new perspectives.

Fast-forward to 2013. Nawaz Sharif’s PML-N returned to power with slogans of transparency and change. Again, advertisements filled newspapers promising opportunities for young professionals. Again, the SBP invited applications for its Chief spokesperson’s slot. This time, around a dozen candidates, mostly from media, reached the interview stage.

The process, however, felt more like theater than substance. The interview panel, which included the Chief Economist and Deputy Governor, asked questions that revealed a startlingly narrow understanding of communication. When one panelist inquired, “How will you stop news that could be detrimental to the State Bank?” I was stunned. Was the job of a spokesperson to suppress information rather than explain and clarify it?

I replied honestly—that my approach would be to build bridges between the institution and the public through timely communication, including social media outreach. Yet the panel dismissed the suggestion. “We are a regulatory authority; we don’t need social media,” one member remarked with bureaucratic certainty. Ironically, just months later, the same SBP proudly launched its social media presence and a new website—without appointing anyone from the advertised pool of candidates. The position was quietly filled by an internal transfer.

For me, the sting wasn’t personal rejection; it was the realization that the entire process had been a charade. Advertisements, shortlisting, and interviews were little more than window-dressing—gestures to display a commitment to merit while ensuring decisions were already made behind closed doors.

The Broader Crisis: When Talent Meets Walls

My story is only one of thousands echoing across Pakistan. Talk to any young graduate, mid-career professional, or senior specialist, and the refrain is depressingly similar: “Merit doesn’t matter here.”

In government departments, the culture of sifarish (connections) remains stronger than CVs. In corporations, loyalty to personalities often outweighs performance. And in academia, appointments sometimes reflect political affiliations more than scholarly credentials.

The consequences are devastating:

 Brain Drain: Every year, thousands of Pakistan’s brightest minds migrate to Canada, the Gulf, Europe, and beyond. They leave not because they lack patriotism but because the system here refuses to recognize their talent.

Disillusionment: For those who stay, the constant rejection in favor of “connected” candidates leads to hopelessness. Depression among young professionals is not just a private health issue—it is a national tragedy

Stagnation: Institutions that deny merit stagnate. Without fresh ideas and capable leaders, organizations recycle mediocrity, becoming increasingly irrelevant in a fast-changing world.

 Erosion of Trust: Citizens lose faith not only in organizations but in the very idea of fairness. When rules appear rigged, cynicism grows. And cynicism, once rooted, eats away at social cohesion.

The Human Cost: Stories of the Overlooked

Consider the plight of young women entering the workforce. For them, the barriers are doubled. Meritocracy is already fragile; add to it the cultural biases and systemic sexism, and opportunities shrink further. A female graduate from a prestigious university may face questions not about her skills but about her “ability” to balance work and family. How many bright women, discouraged at the very gates, give up their professional dreams before they even begin?

Or think of the middle-class professional who spends years studying abroad on scholarships, returning with advanced degrees and global exposure. Instead of being embraced, they often find themselves sidelined in favor of less qualified but better connected individuals. Many end up taking jobs far below their skill level, or eventually re-migrating, their energy wasted.

Each such case is more than an individual disappointment—it is a national loss.

Why Pakistan Cannot Afford This

Some argue that nepotism and favoritism exist everywhere. True, no system is perfect. But in Pakistan, the scale and brazenness of these practices threaten national survival.

Economic Growth: A country’s economy grows when talent is harnessed efficiently. Pakistan, however, sidelines its talent, choking innovation and competitiveness.

Governance: Institutions run on mediocrity cannot deliver good governance. The inability of regulatory bodies, public institutions, and corporations to adapt to the digital era is proof enough.

Youth Bulge: With 64% of its population under 30, Pakistan faces a demographic tsunami. If opportunities are denied, frustration will turn into unrest. A nation with unemployed, disillusioned youth is a ticking time bomb.

Towards a Culture of Merit

The solution is neither easy nor immediate. Yet it is urgent and possible if pursued with sincerity.

 Transparent Recruitment: Every public and corporate entity must adopt transparent hiring practices. Job advertisements, shortlisting criteria, interview scores—all should be made publicly available.

 Independent Oversight: Regulatory bodies, much like the Election Commission, should oversee recruitment processes in critical institutions.

 Merit Incentives: Organizations that demonstrably follow meritocracy should receive state and civil society recognition. Public rankings, certifications, or awards can create positive pressure.

 Digital Audits: Technology can help. Online testing, automated shortlisting, and digital audit trails can reduce human manipulation.

 Cultural Shift: Ultimately, no system can work unless society values merit. Parents, teachers, and leaders must emphasize that personal connections should not be a substitute for competence.

A Call for Human Dignity

At its heart, the cry for meritocracy is a cry for dignity. When an individual spends years learning, training, and striving, they deserve at least a fair chance to be evaluated. To deny them that chance is to rob them not only of opportunity but of self-worth.

The humanistic dimension of this crisis is rarely discussed. Professionals rejected unfairly carry scars. They lose confidence, question their value, and sometimes abandon their passions altogether. Behind every “unsuccessful” candidate is a family that invested hopes, money, and sacrifice. Behind every brain drain story is a silent mourning for what Pakistan could have been.

Pakistan at a Crossroads

Pakistan cannot progress on slogans alone. “Youth empowerment,” “innovation,” “digital Pakistan”—these remain hollow until backed by a culture that rewards competence. Without meritocracy, the best minds will remain underutilized, and the cycle of mediocrity will deepen.

The tragedy is that Pakistan does not lack talent. Its problem is the walls placed in front of talent. Tear down those walls, and the nation will surprise the world.

It is time we stopped paying lip service to merit and started practicing it. For every professional sidelined by nepotism, for every young graduate disheartened at the start of their career, for every woman told “this is not for you,” Pakistan owes a debt. That debt can only be paid by building a society where what you know matters more than who you know.

Until then, merit will remain under the table, and Pakistan will continue to pay the price.