The civil service in Pakistan has long been regarded as one of the most prestigious career paths, coveted by many. Over time, however, the perception of this profession has evolved. What was once seen purely as a public service role has increasingly become a curious mix of necessity, obsession, and a ladder to social status — and now, thanks to social media, sometimes a stage for personal branding.
For many, the dream is rooted in practical reasons. Government jobs offer stability, respect, and a way out of the uncertainty of the private sector. In a country where secure, well-paying jobs are scarce, the civil service promises a predictable income, influence, and access to circles of power. It’s the kind of career where one’s visiting card can open more doors than years of hard work elsewhere.
But for others, this dream has become an obsession. The fierce competition for the CSS exam has created a culture where aspirants treat success not just as a career milestone but as a measure of self-worth. It’s an all-or-nothing pursuit, with some sacrificing personal lives, hobbies, and even mental well-being to chase that coveted officer’s seat. The narrative is often romanticised, with endless tales of “against all odds” success flooding coaching centres and YouTube channels.
And then comes the modern twist — the bureaucrat as a social media figure. In today’s Pakistan, some officers have stepped far beyond files and field visits, embracing Instagram and TikTok as enthusiastically as they once embraced administrative briefings. There is a growing fascination with projecting the “look” of a civil servant — designer handbags beside official files, slow-motion videos walking into meetings, and captions about “serving the nation” paired with soft-focus portraits. One might cynically say they appear to serve better in front of the camera lens than in the dusty corridors of a tehsil office. Of course, they look perfectly at home behind a desk piled high with official documents; it’s just that some seem equally at home rehearsing transition reels.
The result is a strange hybrid: part public servant, part lifestyle influencer. While some argue that these social media posts inspire youth, others wonder if the glamour distracts from the less photogenic work of governance — the endless paperwork, the village disputes, the stubborn power outages. But perhaps that’s the point. In a country where symbols often matter more than substance, the image of authority might just be as powerful as authority itself.
So, get the inspiration youth. Thy time is waiting !