In a nation where an elderly shopkeeper has to haggle over every rupee of his electricity bill and a schoolteacher dreads the rising cost of basic groceries, the news that the Federal Board of Revenue (FBR) has sanctioned over Rs 2.2 billion for “digital enforcement” vehicles— including 15 bulletproof cars— feels not just tone-deaf but grotesquely symbolic. It captures, in one lavish expenditure, the growing chasm between a state machinery cocooned in privilege and a populace left to bear the brunt of economic misgovernance.
The bulletproofing of bureaucracy isn’t just literal— it’s metaphoric, too. It reflects an elite institution shielded not only from bullets but from accountability, empathy, and the harsh reality faced by millions struggling under the weight of spiraling inflation, indirect taxation, and shrinking opportunities.
This is not to undermine the importance of increasing Pakistan’s abysmally low tax-to-GDP ratio, which languishes around 9 to 10 percent— a figure that places us among the least fiscally efficient nations globally. The need for documentation and tax enforcement is both long overdue and essential for national sustainability. But reform without wisdom becomes repression. When policy measures turn into displays of power rather than instruments of equity, they fail to inspire trust.
The FBR’s recent enforcement blitz in sectors like sugar, tobacco, and poultry— while yielding short-term gains— seems to favour headline-chasing over systemic solutions. The celebrated 39 percent rise in tax collection from the sugar sector, achieved without altering tax rates, merely reinforces the long-standing argument that consistent enforcement of existing laws, not glamorous spending or raids, is what truly delivers results.
What is most troubling, however, is the image the FBR seems willing to project— a state authority armed with high-end SUVs, flanked by intelligence units, descending upon the informal economy with little regard for the nuances of survival within it. The average small trader or shopkeeper in Pakistan is not evading taxes to buy a mansion in Dubai; he is struggling to keep his enterprise afloat in the face of rising fuel costs, fluctuating utility prices, and an unstable market.
For such individuals, registering with the tax system often entails bureaucratic red tape, expensive documentation processes, and the looming threat of audit harassment. Reports suggest that compliance costs can exceed Rs250,000 annually for many small businesses— a figure that is simply untenable for those operating on slim margins. Yet, the current FBR approach seems more interested in treating these traders as potential culprits than as participants in the economic lifeblood of the country.
Bureaucracy armored in bulletproof vehicles may feel secure— but in its detachment from the people, it risks becoming irrelevant. Reform must begin not on the roads with convoys, but within the institutions, in the spirit of service, equity, and economic justice.
Equally alarming is the regressive tilt embedded within Pakistan’s existing tax structure— a system that imposes disproportionate burdens on the salaried and working classes while granting relative shelter to passive income earners. The preferential tax treatment of capital gains, rental income, and interest earnings— often taxed at rates significantly lower than business or salaried income— not only deepens economic inequality but also damages the moral fabric of taxation. Why should a factory worker or teacher pay more, proportionally, than a real estate speculator or stock investor? The logic, often couched in the language of “investment incentives,” fails to account for the lived experience of a populace already weary of elite capture. If the tax code rewards wealth over work, it signals a deeper rot— one that no amount of enforcement raids or digital trucks can repair.
While one must acknowledge the positive strides made through digital reforms— like electronic invoicing, faceless customs, Urdu tax forms, and e-tagged freight monitoring— these innovations, though commendable, remain insufficient in a vacuum. A truly modernized tax system must be matched with humanized policies. That means simplifying registration processes, offering tax rebates or holidays for first-time filers, and ensuring timely refunds without bureaucratic obstruction. Currently, exporters and manufacturers continue to voice frustration over delayed refunds, with little clarity or consistency in response from the authorities. The lack of taxpayer facilitation breeds resentment and discourages voluntary compliance. Unless the FBR evolves from a collector to a service provider— one that views citizens as clients rather than suspects— its reforms will remain cosmetic.
Furthermore, the integrity of the institution itself remains an open question. Despite recent efforts to bolster internal monitoring through intelligence units and anti-corruption teams, the perception of the FBR as a rent-seeking entity lingers. Structural corruption and informal “settlements” continue to define the taxpaying experience for many businesses. In this context, simply adding more vehicles or expanding field operations does little to address the core issue of institutional credibility. What is needed is not more visibility but more accountability— performance evaluations tied to fairness, grievance redressal mechanisms that actually work, and disciplinary actions that send a message that malpractice will no longer be tolerated.
There is also a critical opportunity here— a chance to reimagine what taxation can mean in a country so deeply fractured along class and power lines. Tax reform, if approached with empathy and strategy, can become a tool of justice, not punishment. This means not just going after the untaxed, but also reforming how taxes are conceived, collected, and redistributed. Revenues should translate into visible public benefits— better schools, affordable healthcare, subsidized utilities— so that citizens see value in compliance. But if, instead, their contributions fund the bureaucratic spectacle of bulletproof SUVs and lavish offices, the social contract begins to fray.
The FBR’s recent decisions reflect a familiar problem: a state apparatus that conflates coercion with efficiency, and optics with outcomes. To genuinely reform Pakistan’s tax system and uplift the national economy, the state must realign its priorities. That means curbing wasteful expenditure, building taxpayer trust through facilitation and fairness, closing elite loopholes, and above all, acknowledging the daily struggles of the common man who can no longer afford to foot the bill for systemic dysfunction.
Bureaucracy armored in bulletproof vehicles may feel secure— but in its detachment from the people, it risks becoming irrelevant. Reform must begin not on the roads with convoys, but within the institutions, in the spirit of service, equity, and economic justice.
