Why Pakistani Generals Retire into Palaces, Not Rented Houses

 The story is told like a fable. General Montgomery, Britain’s World War II hero, once asked the Prime Minister for a house and farmland so he could live out his last days in peace. The Prime Minister listened politely, thanked him for his service, and said no.

The reason was simple: I cannot spend taxpayers’ money on personal favors. You are already given a pension. That is your right, nothing more.

Montgomery bowed his head, accepted the refusal, and went home to his modest rented house. That was that.

Now imagine this in Pakistan.

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Palaces, Not Pensions

Here, generals don’t fade into pensioned obscurity. They retire into DHA palaces, multiple plots, agricultural land, and cushy jobs.

• Pervez Musharraf lived between Dubai and his Chak Shahzad farmhouse, secured and serviced even after seizing power illegally.

• Qamar Javed Bajwa quietly expanded his family’s landholdings during his tenure—investigative reports put it in billions.

• Raheel Sharif didn’t retire into a quiet life either. He walked into a prestigious, well-paid job heading the Saudi-led military alliance.

• Even lesser-known corps commanders retire into boards, banks, and chairmanships of housing societies.

In Pakistan, retirement is a reward ceremony. In Britain, retirement was simply the end of service.

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Civilian Leaders Are No Different

And yes, politicians copy the same script. Presidents keep their mansions. Prime ministers cling to convoys. Zardari’s Clifton house is a fortress. Nawaz Sharif’s Jati Umra estate runs like a kingdom. The perks aren’t symbolic—they’re systemic.

Where the British Prime Minister said: I am guardian of the people’s rights, Pakistani leaders behave as if they are guardians of their own estates.

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The Word We Don’t Know: No

Montgomery’s story is about restraint. The Prime Minister had the power to please a hero, but refused because principle mattered more than sentiment.

Here, nobody ever says no. Not to a general, not to a politician. Plots are handed out, security convoys extended, foreign postings created. To refuse is unthinkable.

When was the last time you saw a Pakistani general or prime minister accept a denial with dignity?

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The Ethos We Lost

Montgomery lived in a rented house. Pakistani generals retire into palaces. That is not just a comparison—it’s a mirror held up to our ethos.

Britain built institutions that outlived individuals. Pakistan built individuals who devoured institutions.

And that is why Montgomery’s story reads like a parable, while ours read like corruption reports.

Pakistan’s Flood Housing Scams: A Hidden Crisis

 

The floods of 2022 were not just a natural disaster. They were a test. Entire villages went under, millions lost their homes, and the world opened its wallet. Billions in aid, promises of “model housing,” press conferences filled with hope. Yet today, in Sindh and Balochistan, families still sleep under plastic sheets.

The water receded. The betrayal stayed.

Promises That Never Arrived

The government’s reports painted a glowing picture—hundreds of thousands of homes “under construction.” But when you walk through Badin, you see shells. Thin tin sheets nailed together, no toilets, no drainage. Structures already tilting.

In Dadu, a widow named Shazia told journalists she had to pay Rs. 30,000 just to stay on the list. “I lost my home to the flood,” she said. “Now I must pay to get another?”

Numbers hide stories like hers. On the ground, hope has a price tag.

Disaster as Business

Every tragedy in Pakistan births its own market. During COVID, it was fake ventilators and vaccine line-jumping. After the floods, it was housing scams.

• Contractors invoiced for homes never built.

• Local officials deleted names until families bribed them.

• Landlords kept donor-funded houses for their relatives.

Even land meant for new housing became contested ground, sparking disputes between desperate families and entrenched elites.

The Show for Donors

In Islamabad, slideshows tell a different story. Model villages. Fresh paint. Happy families. Donors nod, check boxes, and move on.

But go back to Sindh. Mothers are still tucking children under tarpaulin. The gap is not ignorance—it is complicity.

What Could Work Instead

It doesn’t have to be this way. Look at the Edhi Foundation, which built over 1,200 permanent one-room homes in flood-hit Sindh with verifiable records. Or the Alkhidmat Foundation, which worked with local masons to construct nearly 3,500 brick shelters across Punjab and Sindh—each house photographed, GPS-tagged, and handed to families with receipts.

Women’s groups, too, showed what’s possible. The Thardeep Rural Development Programme (TRDP) in Tharparkar trained women to design low-cost, climate-resilient huts with local materials. In one pilot village, 150 families moved into sturdy shelters—each costing less than half the “official” houses that never appeared.

These projects prove something simple: rebuilding can be honest, if the middlemen are cut out.

But the machine of politics, bureaucracy, and contractors keeps grinding. And it grinds down the poor first.

The Floods Will Return

Pakistan lives in a climate danger zone. More floods will come. The question is whether we will keep repeating the cycle: devastation, pledges, scams, and another round of neglect. Or whether citizens and civil society can finally shame the state into accountability.

Because every unbuilt house is not just corruption. It is humiliation.

Why Gazans Voted for Hamas—and Why Blaming Them Today Is Misleading

 

When Carl Higbie of Newsmax says that the people of Gaza are responsible for the deaths and destruction because they elected Hamas, he misses the deeper history. The choice made in 2006 was not the open-ended endorsement of Hamas that many in the West assume. It was one election, held nearly two decades ago, in a moment of frustration and despair.

In January 2006, Palestinians went to the polls in legislative elections. Hamas, the Islamist movement that had built its reputation in the first intifada, won a decisive victory. Why did it happen? Many observers agree that it was less a vote for religious rule than a vote against corruption. Fatah, the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority, had been in charge for over a decade. It was seen as weak, compromised, and riddled with self-enrichment.

“People were tired of Fatah’s failures, both in governance and in negotiations,” explained Khalil Shikaki, director of the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research, in an interview with NPR. “Hamas represented change. It represented clean hands.”

Hamas also built influence by providing social services. Long before it entered the ballot box, it ran schools, health clinics, and charities. In a society where official institutions often failed, that mattered. A shopkeeper in Gaza City told The New York Times at the time, “At least they take care of the poor. Fatah only takes care of itself.”

The political appeal was reinforced by its image of resistance. For Palestinians who saw the peace process collapse and settlements expand, Hamas’s refusal to compromise felt like dignity. “People were voting against Oslo, against the status quo,” said Nathan Brown, a scholar of Middle Eastern politics at George Washington University.

Yet the 2006 victory was the last time Gazans had a real say. The U.S. and Israel refused to accept the result, sanctions followed, and fighting broke out between Fatah and Hamas. By 2007, Gaza and the West Bank were divided. Hamas controlled Gaza, Fatah remained in the West Bank, and no further elections were held. Today, nearly half the population of Gaza is under eighteen. They never had the chance to vote in the first place.

Critics of Higbie’s framing point out that holding all Gazans responsible is unjust. The International Crisis Group observed, “The lack of elections has locked Palestinians into a leadership they may or may not support, with no peaceful avenue for change.” That is the reality of life under blockade and factional conflict.

There is also the question of coercion. Since 2007, Hamas has consolidated power in Gaza by silencing rivals. Independent voices face pressure, arrest, or worse. Ordinary people cannot openly oppose them. To suggest that 2 million civilians—most of them children—are collectively guilty for decisions made in one frozen election is morally unsound.

The deeper tragedy is that Gaza’s people are trapped between external siege and internal repression. They were given one choice, almost twenty years ago, in a moment when anger outweighed hope. That choice has since been weaponized by critics who argue that Gazans brought this on themselves.

History does not support that view. The election was a protest, not a blank check. The absence of new elections is not the people’s decision. And the suffering of civilians today cannot be excused by a single ballot cast in 2006.

As the late Palestinian analyst Ghassan Khatib once said, “Voting for Hamas was not voting for endless war. It was voting against the corruption that was strangling us.” That distinction still matters.