Does Pakistan Care About Sustainability?

Pakistan is no stranger to big, existential questions – how the government can be more effective, how to balance tradition with modernity, and now, even sustainability. However, does the average Pakistani truly understand sustainability, or is it merely a word we invoke when we want to sound virtuous at social gatherings?

To dig into the matter, Aurora ran a survey on Dawn.com in January-February 2025, and collected data from 676 respondents, the majority (81.7%) of whom were men. Of course, 676 answers barely register as a blip in a country with well over 240 million people and these 676 voices, therefore, offer a male-dominated window into how sustainability is perceived, discussed or even misunderstood in Pakistan. As far as the respondents’ ages are concerned, 61% were 25 to 44 years old, while 10.8% were 18–24, 18.5% were 45–54, and 18.5% were over 55, 62.8% of whom live in Islamabad, Karachi or Lahore.

The first thing the survey asked was how familiar respondents felt about sustainability. Most (68.5%) people described themselves as either “very familiar” or “somewhat familiar” (28.7%) which, on the surface, suggests a robust baseline awareness.

Yet, once the conversation turned to specifics, for many participants sustainability centred on environmental fixes such as turning off lights, reducing waste, or recycling when convenient. Such measures are not trivial – they can collectively make a difference, and they show that people are at least somewhat conscious of environmental stewardship. However, sustainability in the larger sense, encompassing fair wages, labour rights, social equity, and supply chain accountability, scarcely figured into their perspectives.

Environmental concerns remain front and centre – respondents frequently cited water scarcity (36.2%), pollution (72.5%), floods (50.7%) and heatwaves (73.8%) as pressing threats. Lahore’s smog problem and Sindh’s catastrophic floods came up often, as did references to intensifying heat in Sindh and southern Punjab. Several participants recounted personal experiences: power blackouts during scorching days, inundated streets during monsoon surges, or farmland shrinking from lack of irrigation.

Younger respondents, typically in their late twenties or early thirties, demonstrated slightly more expansive definitions of sustainability than older groups, probably thanks to exposure to global dialogues on social media and workplaces that emphasise CSR or sustainability training. Similarly, women often mentioned the social dimensions of sustainability more than men, referencing how ethical labour conditions and community well-being factor into environmentally conscious choices. These subtle gender differences, though not definitive in a small sample, hint at how daily experiences can colour our notion of what “green living” truly entails.

When asked why they did not adopt more sustainable habits, they responded by referring to hurdles such as higher costs, that genuine products are scarce or suspect, that government inaction is rampant, and that bigger industries do the real damage anyway.

Cost towered above other reasons. Sustainable or organic products typically cost extra, require extra verification, and can be found only in limited markets. Even some of the more well-intentioned participants admitted they might prefer an eco-friendly brand, but only if it matched the regular price.

Many respondents declared that they “always try” to purchase sustainable goods and, in the same breath, admitted that they rarely read labels or pay attention to credentials like fair trade stamps.

It is therefore safe to say that the mismatch arises when the principle meets real life – where the desire to be greener collides with cost constraints, labelling confusion, convenience, and a sense that large-scale reforms lie beyond personal reach. Those comedic moments, however, do not wipe out the survey’s underlying theme of cautious hope. Many respondents voiced not just scepticism but also genuine interest: a willingness to learn, adapt, and invest in truly sustainable products and policies, provided the frameworks are fair, transparent, and accessible.

Scepticism about how many people truly ‘walk the talk’ is unsurprising when you look at how quickly participants pinned the responsibility for climate action on government and corporations. A majority insisted that major institutions, from federal ministries to multinational industries, ought to be at the forefront of sustainability efforts. Individuals, in their view, can do only so much in a system that rewards consumption and convenience over mindful living. While this might sound like blame-shifting, it reflects a certain reality: large-scale regulations, policies, and enforcement can drastically shape the ease or difficulty of sustainable choices. When plastic is ubiquitous, recycling facilities are scarce, or green certification is riddled with fraud, everyday choices become either complicated or meaningless in the broader scheme.

None of these contradictions, however, necessarily doom sustainability in Pakistan to a shallow façade. If anything, they highlight exactly where interventions can be targeted. The government, it seems, has a golden opportunity to develop and enforce clearer labelling standards, ease the cost burden through subsidies or tax breaks for green products, and implement stronger regulations that hold corporations accountable. Meanwhile, local producers and entrepreneurs – if they can earn consumer trust with genuinely sustainable, affordable products – have a chance to reshape the market. Education, be it in classrooms or corporate boardrooms, can dig deeper into the social justice side of sustainability, illuminating how wage exploitation or unregulated factories ultimately tie back to environmental harm and resource depletion.

In the end, perhaps the strongest takeaway is that this entire conversation is still in its early stages. Some participants are well aware of the climate crisis, half of them admit that broad systemic changes are needed but also cling to the notion that if it comes down to an expensive purchase or a cut to personal convenience, they prefer to wait for someone else – be it the government, the corporation, or the international community – to lead the way. Others show glimpses of bridging the gap, acknowledging that we cannot talk about sustainable packaging or organic vegetables without addressing wages, water policies, and ethical business.

So, do Pakistanis care about sustainability? The short answer, as gleaned from this small but telling sample, is ‘yes’, in principle.

Alifya Sohail is a human rights reporter and researcher.