Karachi’s e-challan experiment: Accountability or anxiety?

Karachi’s roads have never been easy to navigate, not because of their layout, but because of the unpredictability that governs them. Between broken signals, missing signboards, and the informal norms that have shaped how we drive, traffic enforcement has long relied on discretion rather than discipline.

So when the city’s new e-challan system (TRACS) went live this year, it promised a rare shift: rules enforced by cameras, not by chance.

On paper, the move embodies modern governance. Automated enforcement is meant to reduce arguments at checkpoints, curb bribery, and bring some order to urban mobility. To its credit, the system has already demonstrated its muscle, with thousands of fines issued within hours and repeated assurances that the process is transparent and technology driven.

But the lived experience of citizens tells a more complicated story. The transition from a familiar, human-led model to a rigid digital one has raised questions that Karachi’s policymakers may not have fully anticipated.

For many residents, the first shock came not from the idea of being monitored, but from the realization that the system identifies the vehicle owner as the violator regardless of who was driving. In a city where cars and motorcycles frequently exchange hands informally, scores of people have received fines for vehicles they no longer own, cannot trace, or sold years ago without updating paperwork. The law may be clear, but the ground reality is not.

Even those who never sold a vehicle find themselves struggling with the system’s usability. Digital literacy gaps, outdated registration records, and limited public awareness have made navigating e-challans unnecessarily stressful. Citizens appreciate road safety, but they also expect a fair process, one where mistakes can be corrected without bureaucratic hurdles.

The anxieties do not end there. Karachi’s traffic problems stem from long-standing structural issues such as unregulated public transport, encroachments, limited pedestrian infrastructure, and roads that degrade faster than budgets allow. Automated fines may be efficient, but they cannot solve the dysfunction built into the city’s transport ecosystem. When a commuter is fined for failing to obey a signal that barely works, resentment toward the system is inevitable.

Another drawback reflects a harsh irony. Many Karachiites do not stop at red lights late at night because they fear being mugged. In a city where street crime remains a constant threat, the decision to keep moving is often one of survival rather than lawlessness. Before the state demands perfect compliance, it must guarantee a basic sense of safety. Technology can record a violation, but it cannot protect a driver from an armed robbery at two in the morning. Better traffic discipline cannot exist without better security, and that responsibility lies with the state.

The traffic police are also significantly affected by automation. While digital enforcement reduces opportunities for roadside discretion, it also exposes broader governance challenges. With cameras now issuing fines at scale, questions arise about where the revenue will go, how it will be reinvested, and whether the system will actually strengthen police capacity instead of simply replacing parts of it.

Economically, the burden of fines weighs heavily on those who depend on two-wheelers and aging vehicles, individuals whose monthly budgets cannot easily absorb repeated penalties. Socially, the sudden introduction of a digital and punitive framework risks widening the gap between policy intention and public acceptance. Trust is fragile in a city where citizens are accustomed to being blamed for systemic failures.

Karachi does not need less enforcement. It needs smarter enforcement that aligns with the lived realities of its people. The e-challan system could be an important step in that direction, but only if it acknowledges its limitations. This requires simplifying ownership transfer procedures, improving data accuracy, investing in public awareness, fixing dysfunctional road infrastructure, ensuring nighttime safety, and providing citizens with an accessible way to contest errors.

Ultimately, technology cannot substitute for governance. Cameras may capture violations, but they cannot repair roads, enhance security, streamline transport, or rebuild public confidence. Until those foundational problems are addressed, e-challans will feel less like a leap toward modernity and more like another layer of stress on a city that is already stretched thin.

Karachi deserves safer roads, but it also deserves a system that sees its people not just as offenders but as stakeholders.