A conflict of interest arises when an individual’s personal interests—be it family, friendships, financial, or social factors—could compromise their judgment, decisions, or actions. Conflicts may also occur if individuals have, for example, a direct or indirect financial stake in the outcome. Moreover, a conflict of interest occurs when the person making the decision stands to benefit from it. Therefore, in civilised, democratic societies, there are provisions, checks, and balances to prevent the abuse of power for personal gain. Consequently, the executive and legislative branches in these societies are scrutinised by watchdog organisations, and laws protect whistleblowers who expose corruption in government institutions.

In Pakistan, Toshakhana is a department under the administrative supervision of the Cabinet Division. Public officials, including the President, Prime Minister, Ministers, and senior bureaucrats, are required to declare to Toshakhana any gifts received in an official capacity, such as from foreign dignitaries. In a strange twist of ‘conflict of interest’, these gifts are then offered to these very privileged individuals: if the public official wishes to retain a gift, they can pay a fraction of its value as determined by the Toshakhana evaluation committee, which largely consists of bureaucrats appointed by the executive. While the percentage was around 20 per cent of the gift’s monetary value, it was raised to 50 per cent in 2018 for public consumption. Thus, if a diamond necklace is gifted during a state visit, it could be valued at one lakh by the evaluation committee, and the recipient could take it home for a mere fifty thousand rupees.

In a cash-strapped, poor country where the majority of people are barely subsisting, the already rich and powerful are making off with gifts meant for the people of Pakistan. These expensive, historical gifts should be preserved for posterity, and if any need to be sold, they should be auctioned openly, with the proceeds deposited in the government treasury.

Similarly, in another glaring ‘clash of interests’, the legislature determines its own salaries, perks, and privileges. While the salaried class awaits meagre annual increases in pay and pensions, the executive and legislature award themselves hefty raises, along with free utilities, air tickets, subsidised food, and cars. Recently, a bill was passed allowing privileges not availed in one year to be rolled over to the next. While the treasury and opposition in the legislature rarely agree on anything beneficial for the country, any bill of mutual interest flies through both houses. In another instance, the speakers of both houses increased their own privileges, making them lifetime entitlements; after serving a four or five-year term, one becomes eligible for a lifetime of perks. What other cash-strapped, debt-ridden country offers such extravagant luxuries to its already pampered elite and ruling class?

Thus, while there is currently much hocus pocus over the Toshakhana case in the country, the real question is why the rulers have been robbing the country of gifts meant for the people of Pakistan and how they continue to make rules that solely benefit themselves. This reflects the hypocrisy that, when extrapolated, reveals the corruption and embezzlement of the ruling class on a national level—a corruption that has now permeated every segment and sphere of society. Now, collectively, everyone is scrambling to get their piece of the pie. People are banding together along political lines, tribal affiliations, and familial ties to grab whatever they can. After seventy-five years of existence, a country blessed with abundant natural resources has poor agriculture, crumbling infrastructure, depleting natural gas and oil reserves, and is facing rapid de-industrialisation, becoming more of a consumption-driven economy. The spirit of Toshakhana hocus pocus has infiltrated society to such an extent that self-sanctioned perks and privileges are no longer considered a sin but rather an earned right. Hence, the existential question is: Can our country survive even another twenty-five years of this plunder?

Ahsan Munir
The writer is a freelance columnist.