By Ch Mohsin Bashir
They say that once a king asked his minister, “Tell me, what is the easiest way to keep the people happy?”
The minister replied, “Your Majesty, if the treasury is full, solve the people’s problems. And if the treasury is empty, give them hope.”
The king asked again, “And what if hope also runs out?”
The minister smiled and said, “Then hold ceremonies, take pictures and announce that a revolution has arrived.”
This is not merely a fictional tale. It is increasingly becoming a bitter reflection of our style of governance in Pakistan. Governments come and go, slogans change, and the names of development schemes are replaced, but one thing remains unchanged: performative governance.
It is a style of governance in which the success of a project is measured not by its results but by the media coverage it generates.
A few days ago, a similar scene unfolded in a village in Punjab. A government initiative was introduced to reduce poverty under which each village head, or numberdar, would cultivate vegetables on one acre of land so that poor families could receive them free of cost.
On the face of it, the idea is not bad. If backed by proper agricultural planning, financial resources, technical assistance, monitoring and a transparent distribution system, such initiatives could contribute to food security at the local level.
But in our system, projects are often built around publicity rather than research.
Early in the morning, convoys of government vehicles began arriving in the village. Officials from various departments, political figures, agricultural experts, media teams, security personnel and drone operators were all present.
It felt as though a major international development project was about to be launched.
For quite some time, attention remained focused on one important question: Where would the picture look best?
Eventually, a location was selected that had already been prepared by a local farmer for growing maize.
The cameras started rolling. Soil was lifted in hands. Smiles appeared. Photographs were taken. For a moment, it seemed as if the crop had already been harvested and delivered to the homes of poor families.
Then someone innocently asked:
“Sir, which vegetables are supposed to be planted this season? And where are the seeds?”
Silence fell for a few moments.
Someone then tried to manage the situation by symbolically referring to the soil itself as representing the seeds of different vegetables, so that the ceremony could proceed without interruption.
The photographs were completed. Videos were uploaded. Government social media pages announced that the administration was rapidly moving forward with its mission to provide free vegetables to poor citizens.
The episode was not merely about one project. It reflected the wider functioning of our administrative system.
Today, development in Pakistan is often associated with colourful banners, attractive backdrops, drone footage, social media posts and newspaper headlines.
Whether a project was actually completed, whether it improved people’s lives, or whether its benefits justified its cost are questions that receive far less attention.
At times, beautifying markets is presented as development. At other times, planting flowers along roads is portrayed as economic progress. Walls are painted in the name of urban development, while symbolic plantation campaigns are launched with great fanfare, only for the plants — and the campaigns themselves — to disappear a few weeks later.
Successful states create jobs for their citizens. We often show them opening ceremonies.
They build industries. We install commemorative plaques.
They demonstrate performance through data. We demonstrate it through photographs.
The real question is: Can poverty be eliminated by distributing free vegetables?
If that were enough, some of the world’s poorest countries would have become prosperous long ago.
Poverty declines when the economy grows, industries operate, businesses can function easily, investment comes in, farmers earn sustainable profits, young people find employment, and access to education and healthcare improves.
If farmers are given lower production costs, quality seeds, reliable water, affordable fertiliser and access to markets, vegetables will naturally become more affordable. The benefit would reach not just a few selected families but millions of people.
But that route is difficult. It requires hard work, planning and continuous monitoring.
By comparison, holding a ceremony, taking photographs and declaring success is much easier.
The unfortunate reality is that government officials are increasingly concerned not only with actual results but also with how a project will appear in the media.
At times, the project itself becomes secondary while the photo session becomes the primary objective.
In this way, public service gradually turns into public relations.
The responsibility of the state is not merely to distribute charity. It is to create conditions in which citizens can earn a dignified livelihood through their own hard work.
A bag of vegetables may meet an immediate need, but sustainable employment, quality education, accessible healthcare, affordable living costs and a strong economy are the real solutions to poverty.
The ceremony eventually ended.
The guests began leaving.
The numberdar quietly stood by, seeing everyone off.
Finally, he asked a very simple question:
“Sir, just tell me one thing… when these vegetables are ready, should we send them to poor families raw, or should we cook them in large pots first?”
Everyone fell silent.
Not because the question was difficult.
But because the question was not really about vegetables.
It was about the way we govern.
It was about priorities in a system where the camera has begun to dominate reality, and where the photograph has taken the place of performance.
Perhaps the day our governments begin focusing on results instead of pictures, the numberdar will no longer need to ask such questions.
Because by then, vegetables will not reach a poor man’s home as charity.
They will be bought with the income he earns through his own hard work.
