The Stark Reality of Wealth Inequality in Pakistan: A Tale of Two Worlds

Published 03/08/2025 in Scholar Travel Stipend

Written by Farwa Batool | 03/08/2025

Wealth inequality in Pakistan is not merely an economic statistic—it is a stark reality that shapes the daily lives of millions. The gap between the wealthy elite and the struggling lower classes is not just wide; it is deeply entrenched, manifesting in every aspect of life, from access to quality healthcare and education to housing, transportation, and job opportunities.

Nowhere is this disparity more evident than in the streets of Pakistan’s major cities and rural heartlands, where luxury shopping malls and sprawling mansions stand in stark contrast to overcrowded slums and crumbling infrastructure.

During my recent travels across Pakistan, from the bustling metropolitan centers of Islamabad, Karachi, and Lahore to the more rural and underdeveloped areas of Quetta, Bhakkar, Mianwali, and Sindh, I witnessed firsthand the glaring divide between privilege and poverty. In cities like Islamabad, gated communities with state-of-the-art facilities cater to the affluent, while only a few miles away, families in informal settlements struggle to secure clean water and electricity. In rural regions, economic deprivation is even more pronounced, with limited access to quality education, healthcare, and sustainable employment keeping entire communities trapped in cycles of poverty.

This research paper examines the far-reaching consequences of Pakistan’s wealth inequality, analyzing both its economic and social dimensions. It explores how disparities in wealth perpetuate systemic disadvantages and contribute to social unrest, hindering the nation’s overall progress. Furthermore, this study aligns with the Milken Institute’s focus on financial and societal well-being, as well as the Milken Family Foundation’s emphasis on education as a critical tool for reducing inequality. By understanding the structural causes and ramifications of wealth disparity in Pakistan, this paper aims to highlight potential solutions that can pave the way toward a more equitable society.

First Impressions: Islamabad’s Dual Reality

Stepping off the plane at Islamabad International Airport, I was met with an image of modernity—sleek architecture, efficient systems, and an air of organization that suggested a developed capital. The airport itself was a symbol of progress, reflecting Pakistan’s aspirations for global connectivity and economic growth. However, as soon as I left the airport’s confines, the stark reality of wealth inequality became impossible to ignore. The contrast between affluence and destitution was immediate and overwhelming.

Outside the airport, the illusion of modernity quickly faded. Islamabad’s new international airport, built with state-of-the-art facilities, stands far from the city—about a 30- to 40-minute drive away. However, once I entered the city itself, the stark reality of economic disparity became evident. Barefoot children, elderly women, and disabled individuals lined the streets, pleading for money or selling trinkets for a few rupees. Some tapped on car windows, while others sat in clusters, hoping for the generosity of passing travelers. This heartbreaking scene was not unique to Islamabad—it was a recurring sight in every city I visited, from the bustling streets of Karachi to the quieter roads of Quetta, Bhakkar, and Mianwali. The visibility of extreme poverty was inescapable, a reminder that beneath Pakistan’s growing urban infrastructure, millions continue to struggle for basic survival. 

The roads were a chaotic reflection of this economic divide. Traffic laws were rarely enforced, and the streets became a battleground of unpredictability—cars weaving haphazardly between lanes, motorcycles maneuvering through tight gaps, and donkey carts and even camels serving as primary modes of transportation for the poor. Unlike in developed nations, where leasing options make car ownership accessible to the middle class, purchasing a vehicle in Pakistan requires an outright payment—an unattainable expense for many. As a result, the majority of Pakistanis rely on motorcycles, bicycles, or animal-drawn carts to navigate the roads, exposed to harsh weather conditions and the dangers of reckless traffic.

Transportation in Pakistan is more than just a means of mobility; it is a visible marker of wealth. The affluent cruise through the city in imported SUVs and luxury sedans, shielded from the dust and heat, while the working class clings to motorcycles, often carrying entire families on a single bike. This divide in transportation access mirrors the broader economic disparity that defines life in Pakistan, where privilege dictates comfort, and poverty forces people into precarious living conditions.

This stark contrast between the country’s modern aspirations and its entrenched inequalities is not limited to Islamabad. In Karachi, Lahore, Quetta, and beyond, the same patterns emerge—gleaming high-rises and elite shopping malls stand only minutes away from sprawling slums, where families struggle to make ends meet. The dual reality of Pakistan is woven into its urban landscape, where luxury and hardship coexist side by side, separated only by invisible yet unbreakable economic barriers.

The Rural Experience: Mianwali and Bhakkar

Traveling from Rawalpindi through Mianwali to Bhakkar in Punjab, I witnessed firsthand the stark divide between urban and rural Pakistan. The moment we left the city limits, the urban landscape gave way to an expanse of barren land, interrupted only by scattered clusters of makeshift homes and small roadside shops. Unlike the bustling metropolises, where cars crowd the roads and high-rise buildings dominate the skyline, the countryside felt frozen in time—isolated, underdeveloped, and largely ignored by the state.

Infrastructure was minimal, and transportation was a rare luxury. The roads, cracked and littered with trash, were mostly empty except for the occasional motorcycle, a mode of transport few could afford. For most, mobility was limited to walking, often for miles, as they herded sheep and cattle across the arid terrain. In an era where urban centers enjoy rapid technological advancements, these rural communities remain dependent on traditional, labor-intensive lifestyles, struggling to keep pace with the rest of the country.

The lack of investment in education was particularly alarming. Schools were barely functional, with many lacking proper buildings, teachers, or even basic learning materials. Colleges, where they existed, were in a state of disrepair, leaving few opportunities for higher education. Without access to quality schooling, the cycle of generational poverty persisted, preventing children from envisioning a future beyond the struggles of their parents.

In Bhakkar, the deprivation was even more pronounced. Entire families lived without electricity, relying on hand pumps as their only source of water. Their diets consisted of whatever they could afford or grow—a stark contrast to the food abundance seen in wealthier urban areas.
Meanwhile, powerful landowners, who controlled vast tracts of fertile soil, reaped enormous profits while their laborers barely earned enough to survive. The feudal system remained intact, with the wealthy few maintaining a tight grip over resources and opportunities, ensuring that the poor remained dependent on them for survival.

What struck me most was the sense of abandonment. These towns seemed forgotten by the government, neglected by policymakers, and untouched by the economic growth seen in Pakistan’s elite cities. While Lahore and Islamabad boasted modern infrastructure, corporate headquarters, and international investment, places like Mianwali and Bhakkar remained frozen in time, deprived of the most basic necessities. The wealth disparity in Pakistan is not just an urban phenomenon—it extends deep into the rural heartlands, where millions continue to live in conditions that should no longer exist in the 21st century.

Karachi: A City of Contrasts

Karachi, Pakistan’s largest and most populous city, is a microcosm of the country’s extreme wealth disparity. It is a city where luxury and destitution coexist in unsettling proximity. On one end, gleaming high-rises, international restaurants, and five-star hotels like Pearl Continental, Serena, and Avari Towers cater to the elite, with nightly rates reaching 40,000 rupees—an amount that exceeds the monthly salary of an average Pakistani worker. The guests at these establishments are almost exclusively foreign nationals, government officials, and the ultra-wealthy, reinforcing the notion that such luxury is inaccessible to the majority. Meanwhile, just a few kilometers away, families struggle to pay 7,000 rupees in monthly rent, often forced into overcrowded and deteriorating housing conditions.

During my stay, I visited an old family acquaintance, a retired government employee, whose experience illustrated the financial precarity faced by many elderly Pakistanis. The Pakistani government frequently delays pension payments, leaving retirees without a stable income. To survive, many are forced to buy groceries on credit, with shopkeepers routinely knocking on their doors to demand overdue payments. His rent alone was 7,000 rupees, yet his income barely covered both housing and food expenses, pushing him into a cycle of debt. This systemic instability reflects a broader issue within Pakistan’s economic structure, where inflation, delayed wages, and an absence of financial safety nets leave vulnerable populations struggling to make ends meet.

While much of Karachi suffers from economic hardship and failing infrastructure, planned ultra-modern developments like Bahria Town tell a completely different story. Built as a gated community for the wealthy, Bahria Town is designed to be an isolated utopia, offering uninterrupted electricity, clean water, pristine roads, and state-of-the-art security—luxuries that the rest of the city lacks. While power outages plague the working-class neighborhoods of Nazimabad and Liaquatabad, Bahria Town residents enjoy 24/7 access to utilities. While Karachi’s main roads crumble under years of neglect, Bahria Town boasts artificial lakes, golf courses, and a skyline of imported luxury cars parked in lavish driveways.

The stark contrast between these two realities underscores the deep-rooted economic segregation in Pakistan. The elite, shielded from the struggles of the majority, reside in meticulously planned enclaves with world-class amenities, while millions of ordinary Karachiites navigate a city plagued by deteriorating infrastructure, rising living costs, and financial uncertainty. The unchecked expansion of such exclusive developments further widens the gap, creating an urban landscape where privilege determines access to even the most basic necessities. Karachi, with its glaring inequalities, is not just a city—it is a testament to Pakistan’s systemic economic divide, where wealth dictates not just comfort, but survival.

Labor and Economic Exploitation

Pakistan’s labor force is deeply stratified by class, with the lowest-income groups enduring grueling work conditions for wages that barely sustain survival. Economic disparity is most evident in the widespread reliance on domestic labor, a hallmark of upper-class households. Maids, drivers, cooks, and security guards are considered necessities in affluent homes, yet their wages are often a fraction of what is required to live in the very cities they serve. Most of these workers reside in informal settlements and slums, where clean water, proper sanitation, and stable electricity are scarce. Despite their indispensable roles in maintaining the comfort of the elite, they remain trapped in a cycle of economic hardship, with little hope of upward mobility.

The minimum wage in Pakistan, which varies by province, remains woefully insufficient to cover even basic living expenses. Many workers—particularly those in informal sectors—are paid below this already inadequate standard. Factory laborers, construction workers, and street vendors endure long hours in hazardous conditions, often without worker protections, job security, or access to healthcare. Labor laws exist in theory, but in practice, enforcement is weak, leaving workers vulnerable to exploitation.

At a wedding in Karachi, I met Afshah, a 17-year-old waitress, whose story exemplifies the systemic reliance on underprivileged labor. She worked late into the night, serving guests at an extravagant event, despite never having attended school. With her father deceased and an 8-year-old brother at home, she had no choice but to work to support her family. Her presence at the event—silently clearing plates for Pakistan’s wealthiest—highlighted the stark social divide. While the upper class rarely perform basic household tasks, individuals like Afshah sacrifice their childhoods and education for survival.

The prevalence of child labor in Pakistan is a direct consequence of this economic disparity. With education remaining out of reach for millions of low-income families, many children are forced into the workforce at an early age, often in exploitative conditions. Whether working in restaurants, factories, brick kilns, or as domestic servants, these children are deprived of opportunities for social and economic mobility, ensuring that poverty is passed from one generation to the next.

Ultimately, Pakistan’s economic system thrives on labor exploitation. The country’s elite enjoy a lifestyle of luxury, made possible by an underpaid and overworked labor force that remains invisible beyond its service roles. Without stronger labor protections, a living wage, and accessible education, this cycle of inequality will persist, further entrenching Pakistan’s wealth divide and limiting any prospects for sustainable economic progress.

Healthcare Inequality: Liaquat National Hospital

Falling ill during my time in Karachi, I visited Liaquat National Hospital, one of Pakistan’s most renowned medical institutions. Despite its reputation, the hospital was overwhelmed with patients, and appointments were booked weeks in advance. The only reason I was able to see a doctor the next day was due to personal connections—an experience that highlights the deeply entrenched role of privilege and social status in accessing healthcare in Pakistan. For those without money or influence, timely medical care is often out of reach, forcing many to endure prolonged suffering or seek alternative, often unregulated, treatments.

This inequality in healthcare access is a symptom of a larger systemic failure. Pakistan's public hospitals are notoriously underfunded, overcrowded, and lacking in essential medical supplies. While private hospitals offer superior care, their costs are prohibitively high, making them accessible only to the wealthy. The absence of a robust universal healthcare system means that millions of low-income Pakistanis either go untreated or resort to unqualified local healers, traditional medicine, or even self-medication, often leading to worsened health outcomes.

The disparity is even more pronounced in rural areas, where hospitals and clinics are scarce, and specialized medical professionals are almost nonexistent. Many people travel long distances to urban centers like Karachi, Lahore, or Islamabad, only to be turned away due to overcrowding or unaffordable treatment costs. The stark contrast between elite medical facilities catering to the privileged and the dire conditions in public hospitals underscores Pakistan’s widening healthcare gap—where survival itself often depends on one’s financial standing.

Without major healthcare reforms, including increased investment in public hospitals, affordable insurance options, and better regulatory oversight, Pakistan’s healthcare system will continue to serve only a fraction of the population while leaving the majority vulnerable to preventable suffering and disease. The crisis at Liaquat National Hospital is not unique—it is merely a reflection of a nationwide reality in which wealth dictates not just comfort, but life and death.

Environmental Neglect: Seaview Beach and DHA Karachi

Seaview Beach, once a lively and popular destination in Karachi, now stands as a grim testament to environmental neglect. The overwhelming stench of untreated sewage and rotting waste fills the air, making it clear that the shoreline has become a dumping ground for the city’s unchecked pollution. The once-pristine waters are now contaminated with industrial runoff and domestic waste, posing severe health risks to visitors and accelerating the destruction of marine life. Families that once flocked to the beach for leisure now risk exposure to waterborne diseases, while fishermen who rely on the sea for their livelihoods face dwindling catches due to ecological degradation.

This environmental crisis is not due to a lack of resources but rather a failure of urban planning and governance. While areas like Seaview are left to decay, DHA Karachi (Defence Housing Authority) stands in stark contrast—a meticulously maintained enclave of affluence. With immaculate roads, uninterrupted electricity, and elite residential communities, DHA represents a bubble of privilege within a city that struggles with crumbling infrastructure. Real estate prices in DHA range from 10 million to 140 million rupees, making homeownership here exclusive to the ultra-wealthy, many of whom earn in foreign currencies or benefit from political and economic privilege.

The disparity between DHA and the rest of Karachi underscores a deep-rooted structural inequality in Pakistan’s urban planning. While the government prioritizes infrastructure development for the elite, public spaces like Seaview Beach suffer from environmental mismanagement, lack of investment, and weak enforcement of pollution regulations. The unchecked dumping of waste into the Arabian Sea reflects a broader trend—where the health and well-being of the general public are consistently overlooked in favor of profit-driven, high-end real estate development.

Without urgent intervention—such as stricter environmental regulations, better waste management policies, and equitable infrastructure development—Karachi will continue to be a divided city, where privilege dictates not only living standards but even access to clean air and water. Seaview Beach, once a symbol of Karachi’s vibrancy, now serves as a tragic metaphor for a city where the environment, like its people, is neglected unless it serves the interests of the wealthy.

Education, Employment, and Economic Desperation

One of the most devastating consequences of Pakistan’s wealth inequality is the lack of access to education, which in turn limits job opportunities and forces millions into economic desperation. Unlike in many countries where schooling is free and compulsory, education in Pakistan is often a privilege rather than a right. Government schools exist, but they are severely underfunded, lacking both trained teachers and basic infrastructure. Many function without proper classrooms, electricity, or even enough books and supplies. Meanwhile, private schools, which offer better education, charge fees that are unattainable for low-income families. This means that for millions of children, education is not an option.

For the poor, school is not just an unaffordable expense—it is also a lost source of income. Many children are expected to contribute to household earnings from a young age, making it impossible for them to attend school even if they wanted to. With no formal education, their job prospects are bleak. Unlike the privileged, who can pursue stable careers in medicine, engineering, business, or government, those from low-income backgrounds are left with few choices. They are largely shut out of professional job markets, with no realistic path to employment beyond informal, unstable, and low-paying labor.

In the absence of formal jobs, the only opportunities available to the poor are the ones they create for themselves. In every city and town I visited, the streets were filled with people selling whatever they could—fruits, chips, bottled water, second-hand clothes, trinkets—anything to make a few rupees. The desperation of this economic struggle was particularly evident at Seaview Beach in Karachi, where I found myself constantly approached by vendors and beggars, all pleading for a sale or a few coins. I saw men offering camel rides, horse rides, bike rides, and even car rides along the shore, hoping to earn just enough to feed their families for the day. Some children walked barefoot in the sand, carrying plastic bags filled with peanuts or small toys, their wide eyes scanning the crowd for potential customers.

The struggle was relentless. I watched as vendors competed for tourists’ attention, lowering their prices or following potential customers in the hope of making a sale. Their desperation was palpable—not just a drive for profit, but a fight for survival. These were not individuals running small businesses by choice; they were people with no alternative. The informal economy had become their only means of existence, a daily battle with no safety net, no stability, and no opportunity for growth.

This economic desperation is the direct result of a system that has failed its people. Without education, there is no access to skilled jobs. Without skilled jobs, there is no way to break the cycle of poverty. The rich continue to secure the best schooling, the best careers, and the best opportunities, while the poor are left to fend for themselves in a society that offers them no path forward. Until Pakistan prioritizes free and accessible education, expands vocational training programs, and creates stable employment opportunities, this vicious cycle will continue—leaving millions to struggle, sell, and survive in a nation that has abandoned them.

Quetta: A City Forgotten

Quetta, my birthplace, was perhaps the most heartbreaking stop on my journey. Unlike other cities that have evolved with time, Quetta has regressed, moving backward instead of forward. When I lived there as a child, water, gas, and electricity were issues, but they were manageable—today, these basic necessities are more unreliable than ever. The situation has deteriorated so drastically that what was once an inconvenience has now become an outright crisis.

During the harsh winters, gas shortages cripple daily life, leaving homes freezing and forcing families to rely on costly and inefficient gas cylinders. Pipes freeze over, cutting off water access for entire neighborhoods—a recurring issue that has existed for decades, yet no sustainable solution has been implemented. Quetta’s climate has always been cold; it was cold when my father moved there in 1985, cold when I was born in 2004, and remains just as bitterly cold in 2025. Yet, despite the predictability of these winters, there has been no meaningful infrastructure development to address the frozen pipes, heating shortages, or lack of water supply. The failure to provide these essential services is not due to oversight—it is a direct reflection of the government’s apathy toward the people of this region.

The neglect of Quetta is not just infrastructural—it is also deeply ethnic and political. Unlike Pakistan’s major cities, which are predominantly home to mainstream ethnic groups, Quetta is primarily inhabited by Hazaras, Baloch, and Pashtuns—communities that have long been marginalized, both politically and economically. This demographic reality has contributed to the city’s systemic neglect, as those in power have historically deprioritized regions that do not align with Pakistan’s dominant ethnic or political structures. For the state, Quetta is not just geographically distant—it is socially and politically peripheral as well.

Nowhere is Quetta’s suffering more evident than in its graveyards, where entire sections are dedicated to martyrs—victims of terrorist attacks, many of whom belonged to my ethnic community. Some graves hold entire families, wiped out in a single explosion. My father’s friends—police officers who once served in hopes of protecting their city—now lie buried here too, casualties of the region’s unchecked violence. The city's security situation has only worsened over time, forcing many families to flee in search of safety.

Despite Quetta’s strategic importance as the capital of Balochistan, it remains one of the most neglected cities in Pakistan. Roads crumble, public services are unreliable, and the population continues to dwindle as more and more families leave in search of a better life. Meanwhile, the government funnels resources into Pakistan’s elite cities while Quetta is left to suffer the consequences of decades of underinvestment, violence, and ethnic marginalization.

Quetta’s decline is not an accident—it is a consequence of deliberate neglect. The city’s worsening gas shortages, frozen pipes, and crumbling infrastructure are not new problems; they have existed for decades, yet no meaningful solutions have been pursued. As long as ethnic minorities and historically neglected regions remain outside the priorities of those in power, cities like Quetta will continue to suffer, regress, and be forgotten.

Conclusion: A Nation Divided by Wealth

Pakistan’s wealth gap is not just an economic divide—it is a force that shapes every aspect of life, determining who thrives and who barely survives. The privileged live in self-sustaining enclaves, shielded from the daily struggles that define the lives of the majority. Behind gated communities and luxury developments, they enjoy uninterrupted electricity, access to elite healthcare, and world-class education, all while the working class battles crippling debt, substandard schools, and exploitative labor conditions. This stark divide is not incidental but systemic, deeply rooted in the country’s economic structures, governance failures, and political neglect.

Institutions like the Milken Institute advocate for financial and societal well-being, and the Milken Family Foundation emphasizes education as a means of upward mobility. Yet in Pakistan, these very principles remain out of reach for millions. Education is a privilege rather than a right, financial stability is an illusion for the majority, and healthcare is a luxury accessible only to those with money or connections. The country’s policies, instead of closing this gap, perpetuate a system where wealth dictates access to opportunity, and poverty ensures generational suffering.

Addressing these deep-seated inequalities requires more than surface-level reforms or symbolic government initiatives. It demands a fundamental restructuring of economic and social policies, prioritizing education, fair wages, labor protections, and accessible healthcare—not just for the elite, but for all Pakistanis. Without such systemic change, the divide between privilege and poverty will only widen, leaving millions trapped in cycles of hardship while a select few continue to prosper.

Pakistan’s future cannot be built on the prosperity of the few while the many are left behind. True progress will only be possible when wealth and opportunity are not confined to elite circles but extended to the broader population—ensuring that economic growth is not just measured by skyscrapers and gated communities, but by the well-being of the nation’s most vulnerable.