Beneath the ghostly shimmer of a buried empire, the spirit of the Viceroy still lingers — not in the marble halls of Simla or Calcutta, but in the polished corridors of Islamabad. His title is different now, but his essence remains: unelected power, cloaked in regulation, seated over the lifeblood of the nation — electricity. Once, he governed land and men. Now, he governs light itself.
When Pakistan won its freedom, the dream was that no man would ever again rule this soil as if it were a colony. Yet, from the ashes of empire rose a new institution — NEPRA, the National Electric Power Regulatory Authority, established in 1997 to ensure fairness, affordability, and accountability. But somewhere along the journey, that mission was abandoned. Its Chairman became a modern Viceroy — grand, untouchable, and tragically indifferent to the suffering of the people.
The purpose of a power regulator is simple: to provide continuous and affordable electricity while protecting consumers. Yet in Pakistan, that vision has curdled into irony. Even the Prime Minister admitted that the power sector has turned Pakistan into a “global begging bowl.” Our economy bleeds through circular debt, now past Rs 2.7 trillion, while citizens are crushed under soaring bills.
It would be dark comedy if it weren’t so tragic. Pakistan stands alone as perhaps the only nation where people have taken their lives because of electricity bills. Each suicide a silent protest. Each grave is an indictment. Meanwhile, NEPRA’s glass towers never dim. The chairman’s office — a gleaming “White House” — is financed by fees extracted from those same despairing consumers.
In 2019, a new Viceroy of Power took charge — not through merit, but political manoeuvring. Like the colonial governors before him, he found comfort in ceremony, not reform. He ignored the most basic duty of his office: to conduct a heat-rate audit of the Independent Power Producers (IPPs), a simple act that could have reduced tariffs and greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. Instead, he turned NEPRA into an event-management authority.
Thus began NEPRA’s age of pageantry. While citizens drowned in tariffs, the regulator celebrated. While coal and LNG plants choked the sky, NEPRA handed out golden trophies for “Corporate Social Responsibility.” The most inefficient power plants in the world were hailed as “sustainable champions.” It was all theatre — environmental hypocrisy wrapped in glossy reports and award nights.
The numbers tell the truth. Since 2015, Pakistan’s power-sector emissions have surged exponentially — a direct result of coal and LNG plants added under the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC). Data from the Energy Information Administration (EIA) is stark: emissions that once stood near 60 million tons now approach 90 million tonnes annually. Every new megawatt of “dirty power” pushes the nation deeper into climate chaos.
And what did the Viceroy do? He hosted events. He issued statements. He signed SRO 1459(1)/2021, launching CSR guidelines “to mitigate climate change.” But on the ground, emissions rose. His policies became parchment proclamations — like the decrees of long-dead emperors, disconnected from the suffering below.
Billions were collected from IPPs under CSR, and some were distributed to the employees of IPPs. Billions more were paid back to the same companies through subsidies and circular debt adjustments. It was a grotesque masquerade of benevolence. The polluters were praised as saviours. The regulators applauded themselves. And the public — the supposed beneficiary — paid the price in despair.
The resemblance to the colonial viceroyalty is haunting. Like the governors who once ruled in the name of the Crown, today’s NEPRA Chairman rules in the name of the State — but his loyalty lies elsewhere. His office has become a fiefdom where efficiency, equity, and environmental sanity bend before bureaucratic arrogance and corporate power.
The consequences are visible everywhere. No heat-rate audits mean unchecked inefficiency. Inefficiency means higher fuel consumption — more imported LNG, more coal, more emissions. High costs mean households break, industries collapse, and exports shrink. And when consumers turn to solar panels — their own rebellion against tyranny — NEPRA strikes back with new taxes and restrictions on net-metering consumers.
Every kilowatt-hour has become a test of endurance. Each monthly bill, a letter of despair.
Electricity — the modern measure of civilisation — has turned into a curse in the land of the Indus.
The Prime Minister’s statement that the power sector made Pakistan a “global begging bowl” is more than an admission; it’s an obituary. For decades, Pakistan’s rulers have favored the powerful over the powerless. Inefficiency is rewarded, honesty is punished. The IPPs that drained the treasury were crowned with NEPRA’s CSR awards — the regulator applauding the regulated, a spectacle that mocks governance itself.
Had the Chairman ordered even one serious heat-rate audit, the story might have changed. Each percentage point of efficiency gained reduces fuel use, emissions, and tariffs. Fewer tons of coal or LNG are burned. Fewer rupees wasted. Fewer families ruined. It would have been a triumph of data over deceit. But silence reigned — and from that silence rose a new empire of waste.
Today, Pakistan’s power crisis is not a technical failure; it is moral decay institutionalised. NEPRA’s structure — designed to protect the people — has become a fortress that shields incompetence. The chairman rules with the arrogance of a Viceroy, deaf to the cries outside his air-conditioned chamber.
Yet amid the darkness, a glimmer of resistance flickers. Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, energy expert and reformer, envisions a transformation — to turn NEPRA into an AI-driven, transparent regulator guided by science and justice, not ceremony and self-interest. His vision is radical in its simplicity: dismantle the viceroyalty of power regulation and replace it with accountability and automation.
If Pakistan’s energy sector is to find redemption, it must follow data, not decorum. It must conduct audits, not award galas. It must honor the consumer, not the corporation. And it must listen — not to the whisper of donors or IPPs — but to the people it was created to serve.
Until that day comes, the ghost of the Viceroy still rules. Not in name, but in nature. Every flicker of a dimming bulb reminds us of this truth: Pakistan may have won independence in 1947, but in the corridors of NEPRA, the empire never truly ended.
