In societies divided on class, gender, and ethnic lines, nothing is apolitical. The nexus of power and knowledge production is not subtle – it is bare, naked, and entrenched. Bureaucratic boards and professional bodies often speak the language of power, not of the people. There are no neutral sciences, and certainly no neutral economics. This truth is once again laid bare in the Punjab Government’s recent notification dated 8 September 2025, declaring the minimum wage of unskilled workers as Rs. 40,000 per month, on the recommendation of the Minimum Wage Board.
At first glance, the figure appears like progress. Yet, labour leaders point out that Rs. 40,000 is far below the living wage of nearly Rs. 70,000 that unions have long demanded. Worse still, the notification omits any mention of the minimum wage for skilled workers, a practice that was always upheld in the past, when detailed notifications spanning over 80 pages were issued, covering 102 industries and their skilled categories. Why has this practice been brushed aside? What logic justifies this silence?
Before turning to this glaring omission, one must confront another injustice embedded in the 2025 notification. According to labour researcher Dr Javed Gill, last year’s declared minimum wage of Rs. 37,000 left workers with even less in hand after deductions for food, transport, and accommodation. The official daily meal cost was Rs. 98.28, and transport Rs. 469.03, leaving the worker with Rs. 36,442.69. This year, while the declared wage has risen, the deductions have also sharply increased: food at Rs. 2,600, transport at Rs. 1,800, and accommodation at Rs. 2,000 per month. After these subtractions, the worker effectively ends up with only Rs. 33,600, less than last year in real terms.
Labour has always been kept at subsistence level, enough to survive, never enough to live
This is not just arithmetic; it is politics. By omitting the wage of skilled labour altogether, the government has created conditions where employers, in an environment of high unemployment, can freely exploit skilled workers. The absence of consultation and transparency is telling. Did the Minimum Wage Board even meet? Who represented labour? What deliberations took place? Or was this simply an executive notice dictated by the imperatives of business? The answers point towards an old truth: business remains the priority of the state, and labour is dispensable.
The history of minimum wage in Pakistan reveals the same pattern of neglect and opportunism. The Minimum Wages Ordinance of 1969 fixed the wage at Rs. 140 per month, and it remained unchanged for nearly two decades. Meanwhile, the Cost of Living Allowance (COLA) under the Cost of Living (Relief) Act, 1973, adjusted wages in line with inflation, with the federal government automatically deciding the amount. Only in 1993 was it raised to Rs. 1,500, then Rs. 2,500, and eventually adjusted to Rs. 6,000 with inflation.
The story since then has been no different: minimum wage increases presented as political stunts, never as part of a genuine commitment to dignified livelihoods. Labour has always been kept at subsistence level, enough to survive, never enough to live. Employers, on the other hand, resent sudden, politically motivated hikes that disrupt long-term planning. Governments, caught between business lobbies and labour demands, consistently avoid genuine tripartite consultation.
The 2025 notification exposes this pattern once again. It is less about protecting workers and more about appeasing business interests. In postcolonial societies, politics and business are never separate spheres; the economy is hostage to politics, and politics is hostage to business. The minimum wage is not simply an economic indicator, it is a mirror reflecting the hierarchies of power in our society.
Until the politics of minimum wage is wrested away from business interests and re-centred around workers’ lives, it will remain what it has always been in Pakistan: a number designed for optics, not for justice.