When the guardian turns deceiver, the fall is never gentle. It is written in ruin. In every society, when those entrusted with protection begin to betray that trust, history does not forgive—it records the collapse in the language of disaster. Pakistan today stands in such a moment, and at its centre lies a decision so grave that its consequences will echo far beyond our borders.
Nations are taught to fear enemies across their borders. Armies prepare for threats that march under foreign flags. Yet what destroys a country more completely is often not the adversary outside, but the corrosion within. An economy is the foundation of military power. Without economic strength, even the bravest soldiers stand on weakened ground. When internal institutions undermine economic stability, they wound the very base upon which national defence rests.
The National Electric Power Regulatory Authority (NEPRA), created in 1997 in an era when circular debt did not even exist as a phrase in our national vocabulary, was meant to shield citizens from exploitation and guide the power sector with integrity. Instead, its recent decision to convert net metering into net billing feels like a wound inflicted not only upon the people of Pakistan, but upon the promises our nation has made to the world.
This is not merely a regulatory adjustment. It is a moral rupture. Circular debt—once unknown—has grown into a monstrous fiscal crisis devouring the energy sector. Unpaid subsidies. Weak bill recoveries and low efficiency of thermal power plants overseen by NEPRA. Crippling distribution losses. The Prime Minister himself confessed that circular debt turned Pakistan into a global beggar’s bowl. Those words were not political rhetoric. They were an admission of national humiliation.
Under public pressure, a high-level committee was formed to renegotiate IPP agreements, widely acknowledged as a fundamental cause of this debt spiral. Yet even before the first document was reviewed, the outcome seemed predetermined. Many who bore responsibility for the crisis were seated at the very table tasked with correcting it. The result was not reform. It was repetition. So again, by December 2025, it reached Rs 1,700 billion.
The power sector obeys mathematics. Numbers do not bend to speeches or slogans. Three mega coal plants and four LNG-fired plants reshaped Pakistan’s energy landscape. The consequences were brutal. The imported coal plants now generate electricity at over Rs 200 per unit—among the most expensive in the world. No poetry can soften that number. No ideology can disguise it.
These power projects were launched in 2015 by officials who promised they would be “game changers”. I warned, in policy briefs, op-eds, and media discussions, that they would cripple the economy. The warnings were dismissed. The tragedy unfolded exactly as feared.
If tariffs had remained fair, if generation choices had prioritised sustainability, if regulatory oversight had been rooted in merit and professionalism, Pakistan’s most troubled regions, Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, might have witnessed transformative development
NEPRA was not a bystander. It endorsed these LNG and coal projects. It approved IPPs. It determined the tariffs citizens would pay. It had both the authority and the obligation to question unsustainable decisions. Instead, it validated them. Through these actions, it has ultimately positioned itself not as a guardian of consumers, but as an association aligned with IPPs—facilitating the sale of expensive and dirty electricity rather than protecting households or accelerating economic growth through affordable power.
Cheap electricity is not a luxury. It is the bloodstream of industry, agriculture, and exports. Without it, factories slow down. Jobs vanish. Investment flees. When electricity becomes unaffordable, economic momentum collapses—and with it, the strategic strength of the nation.
As tariffs have soared 155% in just three years, the people responded in the only peaceful way left to them. They turned to the sun. Across rooftops in cities and villages alike, a quiet revolution began. Solar imports tripled. Families invested their savings not in comfort, but in survival. This citizen-led movement reduced dependence on the national grid and delivered clean, affordable power with zero greenhouse gas emissions. It was hope made visible—panel by panel, roof by roof.
Meanwhile, Pakistan’s carbon emissions from electricity generation climbed from 5.5 million tonnes in 1990 to over 52 million tonnes by 2023. And yet, before the global community, Pakistan pleads that it is a victim of climate change. It is true—we are vulnerable. But climate change is driven by greenhouse gas emissions. And those emissions rise when policy choices favour coal and LNG over renewables.
Pakistan has pledged at the United Nations to reduce projected greenhouse gas emissions by 50% by 2030. That commitment is not symbolic. It is a solemn promise before humanity. It binds us morally and diplomatically. It anchors climate finance, international trust, and global cooperation.
And now comes the decision that fractures that trust. A few weeks ago, NEPRA notified new regulations converting net metering into net billing. Under the new framework, rooftop solar consumers will receive only five-year contracts. Exported electricity will be purchased at Rs 11 per unit, down from Rs 26. Meanwhile, imported electricity from DISCOs will be billed separately at Rs 37–55 per unit, excluding taxes and surcharges.
The imbalance is staggering. The signal is unmistakable. Install solar—and be penalised. This is not reform. It is deterrence. By weakening incentives for rooftop solar, the regulator discourages clean energy adoption at the very moment the world demands acceleration. It undermines Pakistan’s climate pledges at the UN. It suggests that protecting LNG and coal IPP revenues carries greater weight than honouring international commitments or safeguarding citizens’ economic survival.
On the global stage, this decision risks isolating Pakistan at a time when climate credibility is currency. Domestically, it confirms a painful perception: that NEPRA has drifted from its mandate. Instead of ensuring fair tariffs and enabling cheap electricity to drive growth, it appears to defend entrenched generation contracts that burden consumers and slow economic expansion.
Elsewhere, regulators move in the opposite direction. In India, the Central Electricity Regulatory Commission (CERC) is integrating AI-based systems to improve efficiency, reduce losses, and facilitate renewable integration. The Ministry of Power is embedding AI into forecasting and grid security. They innovate. We retreat. My brief report on this transformation in August 2024 was sent to the trash. This contrast is painful.
If tariffs had remained fair, if generation choices had prioritised sustainability, if regulatory oversight had been rooted in merit and professionalism, Pakistan’s most troubled regions, Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, might have witnessed transformative development funded by savings from avoided circular debt. Economic strength would have reinforced national security. Instead, billions drained away.
This is not simply an administrative failure. It reveals institutional decay—the kind that scholars warn about when institutions cease serving the public and instead protect narrow interests. When regulators align themselves with powerful producers rather than vulnerable consumers, the social contract fractures.
How did NEPRA protect poor consumers? How did it safeguard the environment? How did it accelerate economic growth by ensuring affordable electricity? The answers are heavy with silence.
The sorrow runs deeper than economics. When citizens invest in clean energy and are met with regulatory resistance, trust dissolves. When international pledges are contradicted by domestic action, credibility erodes. When institutions meant to defend the public instead appear to defend powerful suppliers, confidence collapses.
In the end, the greatest danger to Pakistan may not be the enemy beyond its borders. It may be the weakening of the economic foundations within. A nation cannot stand strong in the world if its internal pillars are cracked.
History will remember this moment. It will ask why, when citizens reached towards the sun to save themselves and their country, the regulator cast a shadow instead. And it will judge whether those entrusted with guardianship preserved the nation’s strength—or quietly undermined it from within.