DESPITE widespread perceptions of severe living conditions in Pakistan, millions of people continue to manage their daily lives. This perspective is shared by someone who has lived abroad for a decade, suggesting that the panic driving people to leave is fueled by misinformation. Economic hardships have long been a part of Pakistan’s landscape, and this has always been the case.
If you visit passport offices across Pakistan, you’ll observe long queues. Official statistics reveal that over 800,000 people emigrate from the country each year, with the highest number recorded in 2015—over 900,000. Many of these individuals are seeking a better future due to the deteriorating financial situation in Pakistan. Yet, if such challenges have always been present, one might question whether these emigrants fully understand the difficulties they may face as foreigners in another country.
During my travels to Europe, I observed that the immigration process was straightforward for most people. However, when it was my turn, the officer scrutinized me as if I were a high-profile criminal. Upon arrival, airport staff stopped me among hundreds of other passengers for a thorough baggage check. Throughout my stay, I experienced long stares in public places and differential treatment in cafes, bus stops, and interviews. Despite my qualifications, employers often preferred locals with less experience or delayed hiring for months.
To cope with my frustrations, I found solace in the freedoms of my new environment: the ability to walk safely at any time, uninterrupted utilities even during severe storms, and the ease of making friends from diverse backgrounds while sharing my heritage. In contrast, a call from home revealed the harsh realities in Pakistan—frequent power outages in 50-degree heat, scarce water, closed shops due to extreme weather, limited gas availability, and violent crime. My family faced these challenges with cooking done on wood and coal, reliance on solar panels, and the use of old phones to avoid theft. Despite these hardships, they felt thankful every night for their safety.
This stark contrast made me realize the pervasive fear in Pakistan. It doesn’t seem like a nuclear country in 2024; instead, the living conditions are worse than in the Stone Age. The differential treatment I faced abroad highlighted our societal biases, affecting how we view non-Muslims, who have lived on this land for centuries, and ethnic groups like the Pashtoons in Karachi. Accusations of blasphemy can incite mob justice, and prejudice against “outsiders” is widespread.
Living as a foreigner comes with its own set of challenges, but basic necessities are often more accessible and secure. My place of worship was not attacked, my experience was acknowledged, and I wasn’t seen as a threat. I didn’t have to worry about my safety, and in case of emergencies, there were systems and procedures in place, supported by an efficient administration. The education system was updated and provided a clear view of history, and people respected the law, regardless of their social status. Women worked alongside men without discrimination, contributing to the economic output.
Despite the resilience of those staying in Pakistan, many seek refuge abroad to escape daily challenges, not just the lack of basic utilities but also to find safety and equal opportunities. We must acknowledge the courage of those leaving for a better future for their families. The ultimate goal should be to create a country where no one feels compelled to leave and where every citizen can thrive without fear. If these issues persist, the exodus may grow, potentially transforming Pakistan into an “Expat-is-tan.”
—The writer is contributing columnist, based in Karachi.
