By: Yawar Mehdi

This is not the story of a single government, a single reform, or a few years alone; rather, it is the narrative of a system that has unfolded over more than a century. In the history of the Indian subcontinent, it produced a class of administrators who were once described in the corridors of power as “Heavenly Creatures.” The origins of this legacy lie in the Indian Civil Service (ICS), which the British colonial administration deliberately shaped as its “steel frame” of governance.

These officers were known as “Heaven-Born” individuals who, while physically rooted on earth, often appeared to inhabit a world distant from the everyday realities of the people they governed. Upon assuming office, their tone and demeanor would shift, and with a mere stroke of the pen, they could alter the destinies of entire towns and communities.

Post-partition, this structure transmuted into the Civil Service of Pakistan (CSP), a cadre still remembered by the populace through the colonial moniker of "Lat Sahib". The 1973 reforms rebranded it as the All-Pakistan Unified Grades (APUG). Over the subsequent decades, the shifting sands of time draped it in various garbs: from the District Management Group (DMG) to the Pakistan Administrative Service (PAS). The labels evolved, yet the roots of their hegemony remained firmly entrenched.

On 20 April 2026, under the chairmanship of Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, this long-standing narrative reached a historic crossroads. The approval of a new "All-Pakistan Services" framework aims to consolidate all 12 federal occupational groups. Purportedly, the decision seeks to dismantle the "elite vs non-elite" divide that has long separated cadres like Customs, Inland Revenue, and Railways from the administrative mainstream. The objective is to provide every officer with equitable opportunities to serve the state. While the line of equality has been drawn on paper, the true test of its impact on the ground remains to be seen.

This is a mirror of the vision harboured by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto in 1973: one state, one service. Chapter 7 of the Establishment Division’s Estacode still bears witness to that era’s attempt to dissolve specific cadres into a unified graded structure. Yet, history serves as a witness that while labels were stripped away, the temperaments remained unaltered.

The story of the civil service is not merely one of arid regulations; it is also a chronicle of illustrious individuals who bestowed dignity upon these inanimate offices through the fragrance of their character. Qudrat Ullah Shahab remains the most venerable, dervish-like figure on this list, immortalising the bitter realities of bureaucratic enclosures through his seminal Shahab Nama.

Figures like Ghulam Ishaq Khan and Sardar Farooq Ahmed Khan Leghari transitioned from this service to the Presidency, while stalwarts like G M Sikandar set the benchmark for public welfare through their administrative acumen. Alongside them, the likes of Chaudhry Muhammad Ali, Roedad Khan, Mukhtar Masood, Anwar Zahid, Pervez Masood, Mehr Jiwan, Salman Siddique, Naguib Ullah Malik, Yousaf Naseem Khokhar, Nasir Mahmood Khosa, Kamran Ali Afzal, Nabeel Awan, and Irfan Ali have proven that with sincere intent, this institution remains the sturdiest pillar of the state.

I find the mention of Irfan Ali to be indispensable, for he embodies the adage that the true mettle of a man is revealed only through shared journeys and trials.

I recall Chitral in the 1990s, where he was posted as Assistant Commissioner. We had the honour of being state guests in his domain alongside Mian Nawaz Sharif. After the political proceedings, he departed, but we were stranded due to inclement weather. The cruelty of the elements prolonged our stay. It was then that I first encountered an Assistant Commissioner whose desk bore fewer files and more of his footsteps in the field. Decisions there were not measured in hours, but in minutes. I realised then what "living" administration truly looks like.

As time turned the page, Irfan Ali was appointed Personal Staff Officer to the then Chief Minister of Punjab, Mian Shehbaz Sharif. The morning of Tuesday, 12 October 1999, is etched in my memory. We bid him farewell as he departed for Islamabad alongside the Chief Minister, Dr Tauqir Shah, Shoaib Bin Aziz, and Haji Nawaz. By evening, the halls of power were in turmoil. Under General Pervez Musharraf’s command, the military had assumed control. In that shadow of uncertainty, when giants were retreating, Irfan Ali stood like a monolith beside his leader. That night, he crafted a metaphor of loyalty and professional integrity that ought to be part of the civil service curriculum.

Years later, during his tenure as Federal Secretary for Water and Power, I observed his character first-hand. In the Artisan Village of Punjab Small Industries in Taxila, an electricity connection had been languishing for two years, a casualty of bureaucratic red tape. Despondency grew as files circled aimlessly. I ventured to his office; he was awaiting a high-level meeting but summoned me immediately.

I pleaded: "Sir, only a single wire stands between the public interest and its fulfilment." He paused for a moment, looked at the Chairman of IESCO, and delivered not a platitude, but a verdict: "This connection must be established by sunset." Before the sun dipped below the horizon, the village was illuminated. It is in such moments that an officer sheds the shell of his "rank" and becomes an embodiment of "character".

However, the darker facet of this bureaucracy is the entourage of sycophants and small-minded elements whose opportunism erodes the institution’s credibility like termites. Our officer today still strives to be a "Jack of all trades". The district administrator of yesterday is the head of the health department today, and perhaps the arbiter of economic policy tomorrow. In this culture of generalisation, specialisation has been lost.

Nations like Singapore and China buried this culture decades ago, ensuring that department heads are specialists in their fields. Unless we equip our bureaucracy with modern technology, data analytics, and Artificial Intelligence, and tether their promotions to tangible performance, these changes will remain mere labels. We require rigorous training and a 360-degree feedback system akin to the Singapore Civil Service College.

A 2022 UNDP report highlights that since 1947, 38 reform attempts have been made, yet for the common man, the police station and the lower courts remain the same old purgatory. The issue is not the label, but the delivery. While the Prime Minister’s intent is not in doubt, history teaches that changing a name is simple; changing a system is arduous. The "steel frame" has changed names six times; it remains to be seen when this "file frame" will truly become a "service frame".

A state is not run by signatures on paper, but by the resilient character of officers who choose public service over political subservience. In today’s fraught political climate, will we find independent-minded officers of the calibre of Qudrat Ullah Shahab or Mukhtar Masood? That is a question only time can answer.

Credit: Independent News Pakistan (INP)