Redefining Immigration

In Pakistan’s immigration discourse, speed is increasingly mistaken for reform. On January 13, Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi and a high-level UAE delegation led by Ahmed bin Lahij Al Falasi reached an understanding on a proposed Pre-Immigration Clearance system. Initially launching as a pilot project in Karachi, the arrangement promises that travellers will soon complete UAE immigration formalities on Pakistani soil, enabling them to land in Dubai or Abu Dhabi as “domestic passengers,” bypassing the notorious arrival queues.

On paper, this is a technical triumph— presented as a timely response to administrative inefficiencies in cross-border movement. For a country where overseas employment remains a primary economic lifeline, such facilitation appears both logical and overdue. According to the Bureau of Emigration and Overseas Employment, about 762,000 Pakistanis proceeded abroad for work in 2025 alone, underscoring the scale of mobility at stake. Yet for the ordinary Pakistani, this announcement evokes less reassurance than irony: a promise of faster immigration queues attached to a system where the visa door itself is steadily closing. Beneath the procedural polish lies a deeper systemic contradiction— we are accelerating departure for a population that is being quietly, but firmly, denied access at the very first point of entry.

Pakistanis are not merely travellers to be processed or risks to be filtered; they are long-standing contributors to a shared economic ecosystem that has benefited both countries for decades. Any immigration framework that prioritises control over confidence, or suspicion over facilitation, weakens not only human mobility but the very foundations of a strategic partnership. Immigration without access may move queues faster, but it ultimately moves relationships backward

The core critique of this agreement is disarmingly simple. Pre-immigration clearance improves convenience only for those who already possess visas. It offers nothing to the thousands whose aspirations are being eroded by an opaque and increasingly restrictive visa regime. While official statements continue to deny the existence of a “blanket ban,” empirical trends suggest otherwise.

In 2024, the UAE welcomed approximately 64,130 Pakistani workers. By contrast, data from the first half of 2025 shows a sharp contraction: only about 13,865 employment visas were processed in the first seven months, reflecting nearly a 50 percent decline in monthly averages. For the marketing professional in Lahore or the labourer in Multan, a “faster queue in Karachi” is an irrelevant luxury when their visa application has been rejected— often repeatedly— without explanation. Streamlining exit procedures is a hollow victory if the digital gate into the UAE remains largely inaccessible. Administrative speed, in this context, risks becoming a veneer masking structural denial.

This imbalance becomes even more troubling when viewed against the economic realities binding the two countries. Pakistanis are not peripheral participants in the UAE’s growth story; they are among its principal architects. From construction and logistics to retail, healthcare, and domestic services, Pakistani labour has helped build both the skyline and the service economy of the Emirates.

Despite mounting hurdles, the UAE remains one of the top three destinations for Pakistan’s workforce. The remittances sent home— running into billions of dollars annually— do not merely support families; they provide critical liquidity that stabilises Pakistan’s fragile economy. Yet the discourse has shifted subtly but decisively from partnership to policing. References to “criminal activities” and “begging” have justified tighter scrutiny, culminating in instruments such as the PakSkills portal and mandatory behavioural vetting.

By internalising these host-country anxieties, the Pakistani state has effectively begun performing the UAE’s gatekeeping on its own soil. The ordinary worker now bears a double burden: proving employability to an employer and acceptability to two governments. Certifications and registrations multiply, yet none offer a predictable or enforceable guarantee of a visa. Facilitation, in effect, has been replaced by filtration.

Perhaps the most unsettling development is the emerging stratification of the Pakistani passport itself. As visa issuance became unofficially restrictive, a visible hierarchy took shape. Holders of diplomatic and “blue” (service) passports navigate these evolving systems with relative ease, while the green passport— carried by the very people who sustain the UAE’s labour-intensive sectors— is subjected to heightened scrutiny and discretionary rejection.

If pre-immigration clearance matures into a privileged corridor for a narrow class of professionals and officials, it risks further alienating the working-class migrant who anchors bilateral ties. Migration governance loses its moral centre when it institutionalises inequality under the banner of efficiency.

Beyond access and equity lies another unresolved concern: data sovereignty. Implementing UAE-standard immigration clearance on Pakistani soil requires deep system-to-system integration, including biometric verification and real-time data exchange. In an era where data is a strategic asset, this raises unavoidable questions.

What safeguards govern this unprecedented level of access? Are citizens’ biometric identities being traded for marginal gains in airport efficiency? The absence of meaningful public debate or parliamentary oversight on the scope and limits of this data sharing is striking. Efficiency achieved through opacity is not reform; it is risk deferred.

The Karachi pilot project, therefore, must be understood not as a diplomatic endpoint but as a test of intent. A genuinely commendable immigration agreement cannot remain confined to technical facilitation alone; it must be accompanied by a transparent restoration of visa access and a fair, merit-based screening regime that does not collectively penalise an entire nationality for the actions of a few. Immigration efficiency, divorced from access, is not reform—it is merely refinement of exclusion.

True success will not be measured by reduced congestion at Terminal 3, nor by how swiftly passengers clear biometric gates after landing. It will be measured by whether an ordinary, middle-class Pakistani can apply for a UAE visa with predictability, dignity, and confidence comparable to regional peers. Until the point of access is repaired, the point of arrival will remain a carefully managed illusion.

Pakistanis are not merely travellers to be processed or risks to be filtered; they are long-standing contributors to a shared economic ecosystem that has benefited both countries for decades. Any immigration framework that prioritises control over confidence, or suspicion over facilitation, weakens not only human mobility but the very foundations of a strategic partnership. Immigration without access may move queues faster, but it ultimately moves relationships backward.