A Very Pakistani Problem”? How Palki Sharma Turned a Regional Energy Shock Into a Pakistan Punchline

 

Pakistan’s fuel-conservation measures came amid a wider regional energy shock, but Palki Sharma’s commentary turned parts of the crisis into a pointed critique of Pakistan. The deeper story involves energy vulnerability, sanctions, shipping constraints and policy choices.

I was watching Palki Sharma explain Pakistan’s latest fuel-conservation measures when the tone changed.

At first, I recognised the country she was describing. Markets closing earlier. Government vehicles getting less fuel. Officials being told to cut travel. These are uncomfortable measures for people already watching petrol prices and household expenses.

Then came the jokes.

Pakistan’s attempt to conserve fuel became a “lockdown.” An exemption for operational military vehicles became a claim that the armed forces could use as much fuel as they wanted.

Later came the sharper line. Pakistan, viewers were told, may keep running out of resources, but apparently never runs out of bad decisions.

One sentence caught my attention because it sat awkwardly beside what followed.

“This is not a crisis of Pakistan’s making,” Sharma said.

Quite.

The interesting question is how a regional energy shock then became, in the same commentary, “a very Pakistani problem.”

Pakistan really has imposed painful restrictions

There is no reason for me to pretend Islamabad has handled energy security brilliantly.

It has not.

On September 17, the federal government announced a three-month austerity and fuel-conservation drive as higher international petroleum prices put Pakistan under growing pressure. Fuel allocations for official vehicles were cut by 50 percent. Purchases of new government vehicles were banned. Foreign official travel was heavily restricted for three months.

Government departments were also told to make greater use of teleconferencing. Most official dinners were prohibited, except those involving visiting foreign delegations.

Commercial restrictions affect ordinary life more visibly.

Markets and most shops must close by 9 p.m. Marriage halls close by 10 p.m. Restaurants can operate until 11 p.m., while takeaway and home delivery remain exempt. Pharmacies and hospitals are among the essential services exempt from the closing restrictions. Fuel stations remain exempt as well.

The government has also retained the single-dish requirement for marriage functions.

Those measures are real.

Calling them a “lockdown” is editorial framing.

Pakistanis have not been ordered into their homes. Economic activity has not been generally suspended. Businesses are operating under restricted hours.

The word works well on television because anyone who lived through Covid immediately understands the image.

It also makes the policy sound more dramatic than the notification itself.

A regional energy crisis sits behind the Pakistani story

Pakistan did not suddenly wake up in September and forget how to buy oil.

The regional conflict has severely disrupted energy flows. Reuters reported this week that the war involving the United States and Iran, followed by further disruption around the Red Sea, has placed Pakistan and other Asian energy importers under intense pressure.

Pakistan entered that crisis badly exposed.

Reuters reported in May that up to 90 percent of Pakistan’s oil and LNG imports depended on supplies moving through the Strait of Hormuz. The same investigation found that Pakistan had no strategic petroleum reserve. Islamabad was studying expanded storage and a reserve system, but those plans had not yet produced the buffer that a prolonged emergency demands.

That failure belongs to Pakistan.

An import-dependent country sitting close to one of the world’s most dangerous energy chokepoints should have spent years preparing for disruption. Governments knew the geography. They also knew how quickly an oil shock could damage Pakistan’s fragile balance of payments.

Yet the vulnerability remained.

Criticism should start there.

No, the military was not given unlimited fuel

The military section of Sharma’s commentary is where the difference between criticism and caricature becomes clearer.

“Of course, these rules are not for everyone,” she said.

Then came the claim:

“They can use as much fuel as they want.”

The official measure is narrower.

The Cabinet Division notification exempts operational vehicles belonging to the Armed Forces and Civil Armed Forces. Operational vehicles of law-enforcement agencies are also exempt, as are those used by essential services and the Federal Board of Revenue.

Administrative and non-operational formations do not receive that exemption.

That distinction matters.

An ambulance cannot simply stop responding because a monthly fuel allocation has been exhausted. The same practical problem applies to emergency law-enforcement operations. Military vehicles performing genuine operational duties raise a comparable issue.

None of this places Pakistan’s military beyond scrutiny.

Quite the reverse. The government should be able to explain how it defines “operational.” Public scrutiny also matters because a broad interpretation could undermine the savings promised by the policy.

Yet the debate should begin with the measure that actually exists.

“Operational military vehicles are exempt” and “they can use as much fuel as they want” are materially different descriptions.

The second one makes better television.

November is the real warning

The segment also leaves viewers with an impression that Pakistan is approaching the bottom of its fuel tanks.

Petroleum Minister Ali Pervaiz Malik gave a more precise account.

He said Pakistan had adequate stocks for September. The government had also reduced the risk to October supplies even under an adverse scenario.

November worried him.

“We have adequate stocks,” Malik said. Even under difficult conditions, he explained, October was covered, “but November I have to plan.”

That is serious.

It is not the same as saying Pakistan will run out of fuel after two months.

Islamabad is now looking far beyond its traditional suppliers. Malik identified Oman and Fujairah as possible sources. He also said Pakistan was exploring Libya and the United States, while West African crude and Kazakhstan were under consideration.

One proposal reveals another Pakistani weakness.

The government is examining whether it can bring American crude in a Very Large Crude Carrier, or VLCC. Malik said such vessels can carry about four times the crude transported by the carriers Pakistan normally uses.

Then the infrastructure problem appears.

According to Malik, existing Pakistani ports lack the draft and infrastructure required to berth these giant vessels. One possibility would involve parking a VLCC near Hub or at Sohar in Oman, followed by ship-to-ship transfers into smaller vessels bound for Pakistan.

Pakistan also has a limited number of vessels available to manage these movements, Malik acknowledged.

Here is a genuine Pakistani problem.

Why did an import-dependent country enter a major energy emergency without a proper strategic reserve?

Why does port infrastructure still constrain the ability to diversify crude supplies quickly?

Those questions concern Pakistani choices. They deserve uncomfortable answers.

They do not require punchlines.

Then I looked west from Karachi

Something else bothered me while listening to the list of possible suppliers.

The United States. Libya. West Africa.

Iran sits next door.

From Karachi, the geography looks strange. Pakistan may consider bringing crude across an ocean while a major petroleum producer lies across our western border.

The explanation begins in the financial system.

For a short period this summer, Washington loosened part of the sanctions framework. OFAC issued General License X in June, authorising specified transactions involving Iranian-origin crude and petroleum products.

That opening did not last.

On July 7, OFAC revoked General License X and replaced it with General License X1 to wind down the June authorisation.

As of September, OFAC continues to maintain an extensive Iran sanctions programme. Its own current guidance makes clear that some Iran-related activities can proceed when specifically licensed, which is why saying simply that all Iranian oil transactions are “illegal” would be inaccurate.

For Pakistan, the practical problem goes beyond the wording of one American licence.

An Iranian barrel can be close and still difficult to buy

I work around cross-border payments, so this part of the story immediately catches my attention.

Buying crude requires more than finding a seller.

A payment has to move. Banks must accept the transaction and the counterparties involved. Shipping arrangements have to function under the applicable sanctions environment.

Once sanctions screening enters that chain, a commercially attractive transaction can become difficult very quickly.

That is the Iran paradox.

Pakistan and Iran share a border. Yet an Iranian barrel can be financially harder for Pakistan to obtain through conventional international channels than crude travelling a much greater physical distance.

That does not mean Iranian energy is irrelevant to Pakistan.

Quite the opposite.

During the present crisis, Iran has already demonstrated its importance to Pakistan’s energy security in another way. Reuters reported in May that Pakistan and Iraq had reached arrangements with Iran concerning passage of oil and LNG through the Gulf while Tehran exercised greater control over traffic through the Strait of Hormuz.

Geography still matters.

Financial architecture matters too.

A map shows only half the problem.

Pakistan still owns its failures

None of this absolves Islamabad.

The present crisis has exposed weaknesses that should have been addressed before energy routes came under severe pressure.

Strategic reserves provide the clearest example. Pakistan depends heavily on imported energy moving through Hormuz, yet Reuters found in May that the country lacked a dedicated strategic petroleum reserve.

Port capability creates another constraint.

If Pakistan wants a genuinely diversified crude supply, it needs infrastructure capable of handling economical long-distance shipments. Reliance on offshore transfers and smaller feeder vessels adds complexity when the country is already under pressure.

Energy diversification also requires more than finding another seller whenever war closes a route.

Asia as a whole has been learning that lesson during the Iran conflict. Reuters noted earlier in the crisis that governments across the region were scrambling for alternatives as disrupted supplies raised costs and exposed import dependence.

Pakistan has less financial room than many larger Asian economies to absorb such shocks.

That makes preparation more important, not less.

I do not need an Indian television presenter to tell me Pakistan has made poor energy decisions.

I live here.

Every increase at the petrol pump eventually reaches the household budget. Transport becomes more expensive. Food follows sooner or later.

For people dealing with those costs, the fuel crisis is not an amusing abstraction.

That is why accuracy matters.

When criticism turns into performance

Palki Sharma had the ingredients for a stronger story.

Pakistan entered this emergency dangerously dependent on Gulf energy routes. It lacked the strategic petroleum reserve that such exposure should have encouraged. Its port limitations now complicate attempts to diversify crude supplies quickly.

Then there is Iran.

A major petroleum producer lies next door, yet sanctions and the international financial system complicate the commercial value of that proximity. OFAC’s brief opening in June, followed by its July revocation and wind-down, shows how quickly that environment can change.

Those are difficult stories.

Instead, parts of the segment fall back on a familiar image of Pakistani dysfunction.

The most revealing moment remains Sharma’s acknowledgement:

“This is not a crisis of Pakistan’s making.”

She is right about the immediate external shock.

Pakistan did not create the regional conflict or the resulting disruption of energy flows.

Pakistan did, however, enter that crisis with vulnerabilities of its own making.

Both facts belong in the story.

A serious critique can ask why Pakistan lacked stronger reserves before the crisis arrived. It can investigate whether military exemptions remain tightly confined to operational use. It can examine why port constraints make emergency diversification harder.

There is enough there to make Islamabad uncomfortable without stretching the facts.

After checking the Cabinet Division notification and the petroleum minister’s remarks, I returned to the final minutes of the broadcast.

Pakistan, we are told, may keep running out of resources but never out of bad decisions.

Some Pakistani decisions certainly deserve their own investigation.

Yet I am left thinking about something else.

When a regional energy crisis crosses a border and enters a television studio, at what point does journalism stop explaining another country and begin performing that country for its audience?