The Promise and Pitfalls of Karachi’s New E-Traffic Challan System

Karachi has always had a personality of its own: loud, impatient, and constantly in motion. Anyone who drives here learns quickly that the road is less of a system and more of a living organism. So, the recent rollout of e-traffic challans seemed like a rare moment of order at first. A quiet hope followed: maybe we were finally moving away from roadside arguments, bribe culture, and the usual drama of being pulled over. However, that optimism didn’t last very long.

People here carry a deep distrust of how justice works in Pakistan. Ask anyone on the street and you will hear the same resigned line: “The law is not for everyone.” It is hard to blame them for thinking this way. History has shown that those with influence, political connections, official status, or social clout, often find a way around penalties. Ordinary citizens fear that while they will be fined automatically and consistently, the powerful will continue to enjoy immunity. Not many are convinced that a digital challan will suddenly change that. The fear is simple, “the system will work perfectly against the ordinary driver, while the powerful continue slipping through cracks that don’t exist for the rest of us.”

Even if we put the fairness question aside for a moment, the environment in which these challans are being issued makes the whole process feel slightly disconnected from reality. How do you talk about lane discipline when many roads do not even have lanes visibly marked? How do you penalize speeding when there are no clear, standardized speed limits displayed? Everywhere you look, Karachi’s infrastructure is in a state of disrepair; potholes that could swallow a tire, dug-up roads awaiting “ongoing construction,” unannounced diversions, broken traffic signals, and intersections where confusion is inevitable. Add donkey carts, rickshaws, encroachments, and informal vendors squeezed into every corner, and enforcing traffic laws through cameras begins to look like a farce. In such a landscape, expecting textbook lane discipline feels unrealistic. Sometimes even staying on the correct side of the road becomes an achievement because the road itself may no longer exist.

The lack of proper signages only makes things worse. In many areas you simply do not know the speed limit, or where overtaking is prohibited, or which turn is illegal. Instead of guiding drivers, the environment sets them up for failure. It is like being penalized in a game where no one bothered to explain the rules, which makes the E-Challan system look like a money grab scheme. 

Then there’s the economic dimension. The current fine amounts hit hard, especially when compared to what the average Pakistani earns. For someone with a stable salary, the amount may feel annoying but manageable. However, for a courier rider or a daily-wage worker, it could mean the difference between making rent or not. When people are already battling inflation and unstable income, the fines feel less like discipline and more like capital punishment.

To make matters worse, there is no consistent notification system. By the time the news surfaces, there is no point arguing, even when the challan feels unfair. And contesting an incorrect fine? Almost nobody tries. The process is unclear, slow, and emotionally draining. People end up paying simply to keep their lives moving.

The police, on the other hand, are going through their own transition. The system promises less direct confrontation and fewer accusations of bribery, which should help. But officers are now expected to work with digital tools they were never trained for. The workflow has changed without the department being prepared for it. When the system lags or glitches, the public blames them, even though they had no role in designing any of it.

Supporters of e-challans argue that this is the only path toward safer roads. And perhaps, in the long run, it might be. The city desperately needs discipline. But reforms do not exist in a vacuum. You cannot enforce rules through cameras when the physical world around those cameras is barely functional.

Before Karachi can talk about digital governance, it needs the basics: roads without trenches, visible lane markings, functioning signals, clear speed limits, and a justice system that does not bend based on who you are. Until those things exist, e-challans will feel less like progress and more like another reminder of how disconnected policymaking can be from everyday reality. Karachi does not need heavy fines, it needs a fair chance to follow the rules in the first place.