Beggary is not a moral failing–it is a mirror to our collective neglect

Every red light in Pakistan is more than just a signal to stop; it is a mirror reflecting our deepest social failures. At nearly every urban traffic junction, a familiar and uncomfortable scene plays out: children with sunburnt faces tap on windows, elderly women extend frail hands, and men plead for alms with downcast eyes. For many drivers, this has become a routine nuisance, a source of guilt, or even moral disgust. Before casting blame, we must ask what choices these individuals actually have. In a country where millions struggle below the poverty line, begging often becomes a last resort. Pakistan’s ongoing failure to provide basic education, accessible healthcare, affordable housing, or dignified employment means many are without a safety net. Begging is not a crime; it is often a cry for survival. Our focus should not be on criminalizing those who beg, but on questioning why they do so. Yet, the picture grows darker with the presence of organized begging rings in major cities. Vulnerable groups, especially women, children, and people with disabilities, are frequently trafficked and stationed at key urban spots. These individuals are not lone actors but victims of organized exploitation. Tragically, the real culprits–the masterminds who operate these rings–remain untouched, while their victims remain exposed and unprotected. Crime flourishes where there is a combination of motivation, vulnerability, and inadequate state oversight. We are left with a complex dilemma: are beggars part of criminal syndicates, or are they victims of state failure? The answer likely includes both. Dismissing all beggars as frauds absolves us of responsibility and deepens the crisis. What we need is not judgment but structured, compassionate intervention. Pakistan’s anti-beggary laws, such as the Vagrancy Ordinances, are outdated and misdirected. They criminalize begging without addressing its root causes, offering little in terms of rehabilitation or economic alternatives. Especially alarming is the number of children on the streets. Despite the existence of the Punjab Child Protection and Welfare Bureau, its reach is limited, funding is inadequate, and staffing is insufficient, resulting in minimal impact. This is no longer a domestic issue alone. A disturbing revelation emerged in a Senate committee: 90% of individuals arrested abroad for begging–mostly in countries like Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Iraq–are Pakistani. This not only harms our national image but also points to international trafficking networks exploiting the most vulnerable. Had we taken action earlier, the problem may not have reached such global proportions. Reports suggest beggars in Pakistan receive 32 billion rupees annually through public charity. While this generosity stems from sympathy, religious duty, or moral pressure, it often reinforces the problem. Charity, when misdirected, fuels a system of dependency and exploitation. Unemployment, illiteracy, and social stigma only worsen this cycle. Recent government efforts to block the passports of known beggars may serve to reduce international embarrassment, but these are cosmetic solutions. What we need is a shift from punishment to rehabilitation. A humane approach includes expanded access to education, healthcare, and employment, alongside strict crackdowns on trafficking and exploitation networks. Public awareness campaigns are vital. Citizens must understand that giving money directly to beggars–though well intentioned–can inadvertently support criminal syndicates. Instead, verified shelters and social service organizations be supported. Moreover, the state must mobilize students and young professionals to carry out field research and surveys to map the real scope of the problem. We need a coordinated national policy grounded in data, community engagement, and long-term vision. Beggary in Pakistan is not a moral lapse–it is a structural crisis. Unless we confront it with the seriousness it demands, no red light will ever turn green for genuine progress.