LAST week, an MNA from Islamabad expressed his gratitude to the interior minister for proposing that the capital be given provincial status. The MNA fully backed the minister’s statement, terming this a “long-standing demand of residents of the capital”.
This is intriguing for several reasons, not least of which is that in the list of priorities of the capital’s residents one encounters daily, the ‘long-standing demand’ for a new province is not one that features anywhere, let alone prominently. What Islamabad’s residents have categorically demanded, on the other hand, is not being evicted from their land and having their homes bulldozed, access to affordable housing, piped water connections, a functioning solid and liquid waste management system, and a fully integrated public transport network.
As far as governance architecture goes, the most tangible demand Islamabad has made for years is having an elected local government — not just a tick-box of procedural democracy, but one that is politically, administratively, and fiscally empowered to deliver its mandate too. Ironically, the MNA referencing the democratic aspirations of his constituency belongs to the ruling party which has delayed LG elections in Islamabad four times over the past four years. Each time, this is done ostensibly to strengthen the structure of a system the residents never actually get to experience.
The latest round in this carousel was meant to end in October, when the Election Commission would conclude delimitation and issue an election schedule. However, it is now likely that this will be kicked further down the road as the ruling coalition gears up to introduce a new governance model for Islamabad Capital Territory (ICT). Unlike previous tweaks, this one aims to overhaul the entire system.
Provincial status isn’t a priority for Islamabad’s residents.
For the uninitiated, the proposed ICT governance model creates a ‘province-like’ status for Islamabad by establishing a 27-member elected legislative assembly, including reserved seats. It provides for a chief executive — likely in the form of a chief minister — and probably a governor. There’s a chief secretary, four secretaries, 26 departments, six specialised authorities.
To be fair to this proposal, it has both merits and demerits. Meaningful engagement with the capital’s governance model is long overdue, and this recognition of the need to remedy a fractured system is welcome. There is also much to critique, including the retention of basic powers such as master planning and law and order with the federal government, ambiguities in the executive structure, federal secretaries continuing to govern ICT authorities, and the lack of thought towards reforming fiscal architecture.
Since the proposal is still in the works, much may yet be remedied. However, the fatal flaw is not hidden in the details but buried at the foundations. The model creates an effectively bloated structure at the top, while the decay at the grassroots union councils remains unaddressed. It establishes a legislative assembly, without empowering the LGs whose job it is to provide essential service delivery. It may give political leaders a ribbon to cut and a tangible reform package to point towards, but will it make for better results for the
residents? Instead of an elaborate new scheme, could more have been achieved by simply extending basic legislative powers to the now-dismembered Metropolitan Corporation of Islamabad?
This aspiration to give Islamabad a ‘province-like’ structure has found support in the nationwide frenzy of new provinces, and an already bloated pro-
posal may now be pursued beyond its limits. Perhaps the biggest red flag is the confirmation of the earlier perception that this newfound interest in Islamabad’s governance model has something to do with securing an extra NFC share at the centre.
This demand is both half-baked and dangerous. The federal government is responsible for Islamabad in the same way that KP is for Peshawar. If the latter is not demanding a separate slice of the NFC to govern its metropolis, then the former’s 42.5 per cent share should also be sufficient. In case it isn’t, it may finally be time to consider meaningful urban fiscal reform that allows cities like Islamabad to raise own-source revenue, particularly through its overpriced real estate. But that will also require political leaders to take on a state-backed property mafia, and we don’t seem ready for that kind of conversation.
We’ve heard a lot recently about how the devolution of power is inevitable. Instead of carving up the country into new provinces just to see where it may take us, perhaps we might take the obvious route and try empowering LGs first. Perhaps we might try to work with what we already have instead of chasing shiny new toys.
The writer is a governance specialist working on devolution, cities, and climate.
Published in Dawn, September 15th, 2026
