Imagine opening your electricity bill and feeling your wallet cry: Rs. 52 per unit on average, including surcharges and taxes, courtesy of K-Electric (KE), Karachi’s only power provider. Yet the government showers KE with billions in subsidies and allows its monopoly to strangle the city. At the Naya Daur conference on 26 July 2025, which I attended, experts tore into this maddening setup during “Powering Progress: Affordable Energy for Industry & Inclusive Growth.” Moderated by Raza Rumi, the founding editor of NayaDaur Media, the event laid bare why KE remains the government’s golden child and what could finally flip the switch for Karachi. Buckle up for the shocking truth.
Picture KE as a spoiled heir, milking Karachi, Pakistan’s economic powerhouse that generates 20% of GDP and 50% of tax revenue with its 3.5 million consumers. Born as KESC in 1913, it was privatised in 2005 to fix a crumbling utility. Saudi and Kuwaiti investors seized 66.4% of shares, while the government kept 24.36%. To make KE attractive, the state erased Rs. 57 billion in debts and converted Rs. 83 billion into equity, like gifting a mansion to sweeten a deal. KE slashed losses and became Pakistan’s only profitable utility, but this VIP treatment set a dangerous precedent: whenever KE falters, the government bails it out.
Karachi’s bills burn a hole in people’s pockets, yet KE receives a generous government cheque through the Tariff Differential Subsidy (TDS). In 2024, agreements guaranteed KE cheap grid power, with subsidies reaching Rs. 169 billion in 2023 alone—about Rs. 14 billion every month. It is like tossing cash into a furnace while Karachiites swelter. At the conference, former Finance Minister Miftah Ismail criticised KE’s reliance on costly furnace oil due to supplier disputes, which pushed up expenses. Climate activist Afia Salam demanded transparency, asking why Karachi pays the same adjustment charges as other cities despite inferior service. The government insists subsidies prevent bills from climbing even higher, but in reality, they prop up KE’s creaking system.
KE’s golden ticket, built on privatisation perks, endless subsidies and monopoly protection, endures because Karachi is Pakistan’s cash cow, and no one dares upset the arrangement
KE’s grip on Karachi’s power—generation, transmission and distribution—is like a king ruling without rivals. Sindh’s Energy Minister Imtiaz Sheikh vowed to end this monopoly by 2023, but in 2025 KE still reigns supreme. The conference revealed why. MQM-P MPA Taha Ahmed Khan claimed KE’s monopoly had weakened last year, but no evidence supports this. KE remains untouchable. Foreign investors and a stalled $1.7 billion sale to Shanghai Electric keep the government cautious, as Miftah Ismail hinted. Meanwhile, KE is owed over Rs. 300 billion, leaving the government ensnared in a financial mess. Subsidies are the easy way out, Ismail noted. Aneel Mumtaz exposed how former secretary Younus Dagha was sidelined for highlighting KE’s failings, showing how politics shields the company. It is a rigged game, reminiscent of Karachi’s fractured governance where the mayor controls just 27.4% of the city, with real power lying elsewhere.
The conference did offer sparks of hope. Miftah Ismail urged splitting KE into separate companies, like cracking an egg to let competition hatch. Zeenia Shaukat linked KE’s failures to Karachi’s declining liveability, pushing solar and wind solutions modelled on Sindh’s rural microgrids that already power 1,000 homes, cutting costs and protecting the environment. Taha Ahmed Khan suggested prepaid meters and public–private partnerships to curb electricity theft without punishing honest payers. Junaid Naqi of KATI demanded cheaper power for factories and proposed awareness campaigns to unite citizens and businesses. These solutions sound promising, but as I have seen with stalled projects like the Malir Expressway, they require political will—something Karachi sorely lacks.
Karachiites are boiling, literally and figuratively. Load-shedding plagues summers, and in 2023, residents like shopkeeper Asma Bibi burned bills, crying, “We’re suffocating under KE’s rates,” while Jamaat-e-Islami’s Imran Shahid raged against KE’s “inefficient management.” KE’s 2025 plan to dump 300 loss-making feeders onto the government is like passing a hot potato. Afia Salam and Aneel Mumtaz criticised NEPRA for letting KE off the hook, despite a 2018 report exposing inefficiencies. It is the same story of zero accountability, just as Karachi’s governance remains paralysed by political rivalries.
KE’s golden ticket, built on privatisation perks, endless subsidies and monopoly protection, endures because Karachi is Pakistan’s cash cow and no one dares upset the arrangement. The Naya Daur conference stripped the mask off this scam and demanded reform. Splitting KE, going green, curbing theft and powering industries are not pipe dreams; they are real, workable solutions. Yet every government, instead of holding KE accountable, stands beside its CEO, proof that politics protects the company more than it protects Karachiites. Until leaders find the courage to break this alliance, the city will keep paying the price with flickering lights, stifling summers and empty wallets.
The question is no longer whether KE can change—it is whether we, the people, will demand it. Karachi does not just need electricity, it needs accountability.