Why are our public 'servants' so arrogant!

In Pakistan, the phrase public servant has become almost ironic. Judges, doctors, police officers, clerks, and even low-ranking security staff often behave not as servants of the people but as masters. A citizen who approaches with a request, complaint or problem is more likely to be dismissed, ignored or humiliated than assisted. This behaviour erodes trust in public institutions and leaves ordinary people feeling marginalised and helpless.

Having lived in the UK, I have seen a striking contrast. There, public officials in healthcare, local councils or policing may not always resolve a problem immediately but they treat citizens with a level of courtesy, respect and dignity that is taken for granted in daily interactions. For instance, if a person approaches a council office with a query, the staff listens attentively, provides clear guidance and follows up on promises. In hospitals, even if there are delays or limitations, patients are acknowledged politely, their concerns documented, and explanations offered. Police officers are trained to communicate calmly ensuring that citizens feel heard rather than intimidated.

Importantly, when the system fails, citizens are never demeaned or blamed for bureaucratic inefficiency; the responsibility remains with the institution. This difference is not about innate kindness or moral superiority of the officials themselves. It is the product of structured institutions, rigorous professional training, enforced codes of conduct, clear mechanisms for complaints and redress, and a cultural expectation that government exists to serve the people. Citizens, in turn, expect to be treated as rights-bearing individuals, and the social, professional and legal consequences for mistreatment ensure that officials internalise these norms consistently.

The roots of Pakistan's public-sector arrogance run deep. Under British rule, the bureaucracy was never meant to serve the people but to control them. The sahib was above the ordinary citizen, and this mindset persisted long after independence. Pakistan's institutions, in many ways, still treat people as subjects rather than as rights-bearing citizens. Within these institutions, power is displayed rather than exercised responsibly. Promotions and rewards are rarely linked to service quality; they depend on seniority, loyalty to superiors or political connections.

Our broader society also perpetuates the problem. Respect flows upward to those in authority but rarely downward. Ordinary citizens are expected to plead, bow and remain patient, while the official feels no obligation to reciprocate respect. Scarcity, corruption and patronage further reinforce this hierarchy. Denying services, delaying requests or humiliating petitioners becomes a subtle assertion of power. Over time, this culture normalises inhumanity in everyday public dealings.

By contrast, countries like the UK have institutional checks, cultural norms and public expectations that make arrogance risky. Complaints can affect a career. Media scrutiny is constant. Professional training emphasises fairness, empathy and communication. Above all, the cultural narrative is clear: the government exists to serve the people, not rule them. Citizens understand their rights, and officials internalise their duties.

Transforming Pakistan's culture of public-sector arrogance will not be easy, but some steps are essential. Public officials must be trained and continually reminded that their role is to serve, not to dominate. Civic education should instil values of equality, dignity and accountability from an early age. Promotions and rewards must be tied to service quality and citizen feedback, not merely tenure or political connections. Independent complaint mechanisms should be established and enforced rigorously. Media and civil society can play a critical role by highlighting examples of respectful and empathetic service, while technology can empower citizens to rate services, report misconduct and demand accountability.

The arrogance of public servants in Pakistan is not an individual flaw; it is a systemic disease. Institutions were historically designed for control, not service. Changing this requires a cultural reimagining of authority, institutional reform and consistent accountability.