There was a time when a career in banking in Pakistan meant mentorship, integrity, and a clear path for growth. Veterans passed down not just skills, but values, discipline, discretion, and purpose. Young officers didn’t just learn about balance sheets and credit limits; they observed how decisions were made, how pressure was handled, and how respect was earned. There was a lineage of learning unwritten but unmistakably present.
Today, that mentorship is vanishing. Institutions are investing heavily in digital systems, artificial intelligence, and compliance tools, yet a more urgent question remains largely unaddressed: who will lead our banks tomorrow?
The leadership pipeline is drying up. While several banks have revised their retirement policies to extend the upper age limit for senior management to 65, the ranks below are underdeveloped. This is not merely about age, it’s about succession, preparedness, and institutional renewal. Many mid-career professionals feel stalled, unable to see a clear trajectory. At the same time, lower-tier staff, often recruited through outdated, rigid methods, struggle to find relevance and direction. The entry benchmark is still centered on a basic graduation degree, with little regard for evolving skill sets, emotional intelligence, or leadership potential.
“We’ve built strong systems but weak successors,” remarked an HR executive at a large local bank.
The problem isn’t lack of awareness, it’s the absence of deliberate strategy. Recruitment processes remain formalistic. Onboarding is mechanical. There is performance evaluation, but rarely performance cultivation. Leadership is extended, not developed. Talent is retained but not empowered. Professional growth, in many cases, depends on inertia or compliance, not curiosity or initiative.
In town halls, junior staff often speak in carefully measured tones. Lateral dialogue between generations is rare. The culture that once encouraged storytelling, coaching, and constructive challenge has been replaced by tight timelines and silent conformity.
Amid this stagnation, AI has emerged not just as a support tool but increasingly as a substitute. From customer queries to credit scoring and compliance flagging, automation has made operations faster and cleaner. There’s nothing wrong with embracing technology. But there is something deeply flawed in assuming that algorithms can replace judgment, ethics, or institutional memory. AI cannot read human intent. It cannot understand context. It cannot assess trust.
Until we invest in human capital with the same urgency as digital capital, the biggest disruption won’t be technological— it will be institutional. The future of Pakistan’s banks won’t be defined by code. It will be defined by character.
“AI can score credit— but it can’t build culture.”
The deeper risk is structural: technology is advancing faster than leadership is evolving. That imbalance is dangerous. The more we rely on systems, the more we need principled, insightful humans to guide them. Yet we are investing more in platforms than in people, more in automation than in accountability.
Layered onto this is a widening generational disconnect. Senior leaders, often from paper-driven, risk-averse backgrounds, struggle to connect with the digitally fluent, fast-paced expectations of younger professionals. The language is different. The priorities are different. The rhythm is different. Innovation suffers. Frustration grows. And competent individuals quietly exit the system, leaving behind gaps that algorithms cannot fill.
In today’s banking landscape, loyalty has become transactional. Talent retention is a revolving door. Institutional memory erodes with each departure. And in many cases, expertise is replaced with speed, not substance.
Behind every resignation is often an untold story, a project shelved without explanation, a manager too busy to notice promise, a performance review that reduced potential to a rating. These quiet exits hurt institutions more than they realize, because what walks out is not just a resource, it’s perspective, continuity, and credibility.
The human cost is quietly rising. Talented professionals, who once saw banking as a lifelong career, now see it as a temporary stopover. The sense of calling that once defined the profession is being replaced with metrics, dashboards, and tight compliance scripts. In branch offices, you no longer hear seniors guiding juniors over casual tea breaks; you see screens, forms, alerts. The rhythm of learning has been interrupted. The culture of shared accountability is thinning.
Yet not all is lost. A few institutions have begun to act by inviting staff to town halls, visiting branches, and creating spaces where feedback is welcomed, not feared. These visible, open, and responsive leaders are still the exception— but they must become the norm.
I once met a branch manager in a second-tier city who, despite limited resources, had taken it upon himself to mentor every new officer who passed through his branch. His reasoning was simple: “If I don’t pass on what I know, this place won’t last.” That is leadership not designated by title but demonstrated by intent. In a world obsessed with automation, he chose human connection. In an era of templates, he led by presence.
The path forward lies in humanizing the system again. Succession planning must become intentional. Recruitment should evolve to identify leadership potential, not just academic credentials. Training must be embedded in culture, not outsourced to policy. Performance must include reflection, not just rating. People must matter again.
Until we invest in human capital with the same urgency as digital capital, the biggest disruption won’t be technological— it will be institutional.
The future of Pakistan’s banks won’t be defined by code.
It will be defined by character.
