Pakistan doesn't need provinces; it needs its Constitution

The tragedy is that the political elite and the establishment have treated these constitutional clauses as optional

The sudden enthusiasm for carving Pakistan into no less than 37 provinces is being sold as a solution to political instability and weak governance. The claim is that smaller provinces would improve service delivery and reduce the gap between state and society. No doubt, the argument is tempting. But is it the real answer to Pakistan’s governance crisis?

Will more provinces automatically instill respect for the Constitution and acceptance of the people’s mandate? How can simply dividing Pakistan’s four provinces into many more suddenly end the hybrid system and allow democratic principles to take root? And will unelected forces truly step back to let political parties call the shots?

The truth is that Pakistan’s governance crisis does not stem from having too few provinces. It comes from our refusal to respect the Constitution, which already provides for a three-tier system designed to bring the state to people’s doorsteps.
Article 140-A requires each province to establish local governments with “political, administrative and financial responsibility”. In other words, Pakistan already has the framework for a responsive, decentralised model. The tragedy is that the policymakers over the years have treated these constitutional clauses as optional.

Consider Punjab. With over 127 million people, it is not only Pakistan’s largest province but also one of the largest administrative units in the world. Punjab last held local government elections in 2015. When councils were elected, their budgets were kept under the thumb of deputy commissioners, stripping mayors of financial autonomy. In 2019, the provincial government dissolved local bodies halfway through their terms. Today, the province has no functioning local government, leaving governance in the hands of bureaucrats answerable to Lahore rather than to citizens.

Sindh presents another example. Karachi, a megacity of more than 20 million people, ought to have a powerful mayor with authority over planning, policing and taxation. Instead, local elections were delayed for years, and when they were finally held, results were manipulated to keep the PPP in charge despite its weak urban mandate. The city’s elected representatives are left powerless, while provincial and federal authorities squabble over garbage collection, transport and policing. The outcome is visible in Karachi’s broken roads, crumbling services and widening gulf between rulers and ruled.

Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa tells a similar story. The PTI once promised a model of grassroots empowerment. Local elections were held and councils set up. But soon after, these councils were starved of resources, turning them into hollow structures.

In Balochistan, where remoteness makes local representation even more crucial, local elections have been sporadic, and councillors remain powerless in the absence of financial devolution. Across the country, one pattern repeats: political parties prefer to govern through bureaucracies rather than share authority with elected representatives.

This is not a coincidence. Political parties treat local councils as rivals rather than partners. Hybrid systems have long been the order of the day, featuring pliant leadership without electoral legitimacy. Citizens, seeing their votes disregarded and their voices ignored, lose faith in the system altogether. No number of new provinces will fix this. Without fiscal devolution and constitutional respect, smaller provinces would replicate the same failures.

The Constitution itself has been treated less as a binding framework and more as a pliable document to be bent at will. Pakistan’s political history is littered with amendments designed to serve rulers rather than citizens. General Zia-ul-Haq’s 8th Amendment armed the presidency with the power to dissolve elected assemblies through Article 58(2)(b). Between 1988 and 1996, this clause was invoked four times, destabilising the governments and weakening the parliament. More recently, the 26th Amendment reshaped judicial tenure in ways widely seen as politically motivated, again prioritising expedience over stability.

Pakistan’s elite may argue that 37 provinces would fix this imbalance. But this ignores the obvious fact: local government is already the answer written into our Constitution. The problem is not design but denial.

India offers a telling comparison. In 1992, recognising that state assemblies alone could not meet the needs of a vast population, India passed the 73rd and 74th amendments. These amendments constitutionally entrenched local governments in both rural and urban areas. Today, India has more than 250,000 gram panchayats and municipalities. A gram panchayat is an elected village council, led by a sarpanch, responsible for services like schools, health centres, water supply and sanitation. One-third of the seats are reserved for women. These institutions have become training grounds for future leaders and also ensure that government is present in every village and town.

The difference shows in outcomes. During recent floods, India’s elected local structures mobilised quickly for relief, evacuation and recovery. In Pakistan, by contrast, the catastrophic 2022 floods forced us to rely on international aid because local governments were missing or powerless. The floods of this year have once again exposed the gap. Instead of mayors and councillors leading response efforts, ad hoc committees and provincial bureaucrats scramble with limited capacity.

India’s institutional resilience, built on empowered local governments, is one reason it sustains high growth and now stands as the world’s fifth-largest economy, while Pakistan remains trapped in dependency and recurring crisis.
The ongoing debate about new provinces, then, is less a reform than a distraction. It shifts attention from the real question: why does Pakistan refuse to implement the constitutional structures it already has? Article 140-A is not an advisory clause. It is the law of the land. Until political parties are compelled to hold regular local elections, devolve real financial powers and respect the people’s mandate, governance will remain broken.

We do not need a new map with 37 provinces. We need to honour the map already drawn by our Constitution. That is where resilience begins.