What are government jobs really for? Oman needs an honest conversation

Observer

2 days ago

Not long ago, I came across a social media post that many in Oman found relatable—and even comforting. A young employee in the public sector shared his daily routine: short working hours from 7 am to 2 pm, a 20-minute drive back home, lunch prepared by his mother, followed by a restful afternoon nap. His evening was free for leisure activities, including a sunset cruise with his hiking group.
It's an image many dream of: job security, work-life balance, and time to enjoy life with family and friends. But the post also made me pause. In a country where the government remains the largest employer and carries the weight of national development, can we afford to see public sector jobs primarily as a path to comfort and early afternoons?
This isn't about blaming the young man. He's doing what thousands of others do—and he's grateful for it. But it raises a bigger question that Oman can no longer avoid: What do we expect from government work? And what does the country need from it, now and in the years ahead?
For decades, getting a government job has been a major milestone for many Omani families. It meant stability, a reliable salary, and respectable working hours. These jobs helped create a middle class and supported livelihoods across the Sultanate. But today, things are different.
Oman is pushing forward with Vision 2040. We are diversifying our economy, investing in clean energy, logistics, industry, and digital transformation. We are reforming our finances, reducing reliance on oil, and trying to create a private sector that can compete globally. That future needs a different kind of workforce—one that delivers value, not just attendance.
Here's the truth: public sector salaries and operating costs still make up the largest part of government spending. But how much of that cost is truly productive? If large parts of the public workforce are underutilised, unchallenged, or working within outdated systems, the country carries not just a financial burden—but an opportunity cost. We miss out on what these people could be contributing.
Meanwhile, the private sector is working harder. It's more competitive, more demanding, and in many ways, more aligned with the new economy. Yet we still see many young graduates avoiding it—not because they lack skills, but because the public sector still offers an easier, more predictable path.
That mismatch creates problems. Talented Omanis are not joining the sectors that need them most—like logistics, technology, industry, or renewable energy. Our labour market becomes distorted. And our economy slows down.
This is why we need to think differently about public jobs. They shouldn't be seen as a reward for showing up—they should be about public value. Government jobs should inspire innovation, solve problems, and improve how we serve citizens and businesses.
This doesn't mean stripping away job security or increasing stress. It means bringing purpose back into the role. It means linking performance to recognition, encouraging people to learn, grow, and make a difference. It means celebrating those who move the country forward—not just those who clock in and clock out.
A civil servant in today's Oman isn't just managing files or attending meetings. They're part of a national strategy. They help deliver policies, reform services, attract investment, support communities, and lead change. That's a responsibility worth taking seriously—and worth being proud of.
If we continue treating government jobs as the safest and most comfortable option, we will struggle to build a future-ready economy. But if we treat them as a platform for contribution, for purpose, for real national service—then we will have a workforce that matches our ambitions.
So yes, the lunch at home, the midday rest, and the evening adventures sound lovely. But I believe Oman's young men and women want more. They want to matter. They want their work to count. Let's give them a public sector that challenges them to do exactly that.