The Roosevelt Hotel, a grand old dame of Midtown Manhattan, has seen it all. She’s played host to power brokers, movie stars, and dreamers chasing the American promise. She’s stood tall through the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, world wars, and the shifting tides of real estate fortunes. But now, in a twist soaked in irony and economic woes, the very hotel that once symbolized Pakistan’s international prestige is left in the lurch. The story of its lease termination is more than a financial hiccup-it’s a telling chapter in Pakistan’s bumpy road to privatization, where grand plans often stumble over the fine print. When Pakistan International Airlines (PIA) took over full ownership of the Roosevelt in 2000, it wasn’t just another business acquisition-it was a statement. A struggling yet proud nation had planted its flag in the heart of New York City, in a property that could be both a prestige symbol and a revenue generator. Fast-forward to today, and the Roosevelt’s fate has become entangled with Pakistan’s wider economic troubles. Once a thriving hub for high-end travelers, the hotel’s golden age faded under the weight of rising maintenance costs, management missteps, and a real estate market that doesn’t take kindly to nostalgia. It struggled to stay afloat, its rooms growing quieter, its chandeliers gathering dust. Enter New York City’s migrant crisis. With thousands of asylum seekers pouring in, officials were scrambling for shelter space, and the Roosevelt-spacious, central, and underutilized-became a logical choice. In 2023, the city inked a three-year lease worth a cool $220 million, transforming the hotel into a temporary refuge. It was a win-win, or so it seemed. The city found much-needed housing; PIA got a financial lifeline. The deal provided some relief to the cash-strapped airline, which had been teetering on the brink with debts surpassing Rs 825 billion. For a while, at least, the Roosevelt had a purpose again. Selling off PIA has been like trying to offload a leaky boat in rough waters. But in the ever-shifting landscape of urban policy and economics, stability is a fleeting illusion. By early 2025, the flood of asylum seekers had slowed to a trickle. Weekly arrivals, once in the thousands, dropped below 400. New York’s budget-watchers saw an easy cut. The city announced it was pulling the plug on the lease, citing a need to save millions in taxpayer dollars. Just like that, PIA’s expected revenue stream evaporated, leaving the Roosevelt in limbo yet again. It wasn’t just another bump in the road; it was a swerve off a financial cliff. For PIA, the lease’s sudden termination couldn’t have come at a worse time. The airline had been gasping for a break, with the government actively pushing for privatization. Reform measures had been rolled out, including tax breaks on aircraft acquisitions and creative financial restructuring to make the airline more palatable to investors. But for all the fine-tuning, selling off PIA has been like trying to offload a leaky boat in rough waters. Investors have been wary of the airline’s bloated workforce, operational inefficiencies, and its knack for running losses in the billions. And now, with the Roosevelt no longer generating income, one of the few bright spots in PIA’s portfolio has gone dim. There’s an old saying in the business world: assets aren’t worth what they cost but what they earn. The Roosevelt, despite its prime location, is a prime example. The lease was keeping it alive-without it, the options aren’t pretty. Selling the property outright could fetch a hefty sum, but not without its own set of hurdles. The New York real estate market is notoriously complex, and any potential sale would require careful negotiation. Repurposing the hotel, on the other hand, means sinking in even more capital, something PIA doesn’t have the luxury to do. The result? A once-prized possession teetering on the edge of becoming a liability. The Roosevelt’s struggles mirror a larger reality: Pakistan’s long and often frustrating attempts at privatization. State-owned enterprises have been bleeding cash for years, their combined losses surpassing Rs 692 billion since 2017. The government’s attempts to offload these white elephants have been met with resistance at every turn-bureaucratic roadblocks, political opposition, and labor unions fiercely protective of their turf. PIA, in particular, is a case study in how not to run an airline. Overstaffed, debt-ridden, and losing ground to private competitors, its survival now hinges on whether the government can finally push through its sale. But privatization, like politics, is a game of timing. Investors like certainty, and certainty is a rare commodity in Pakistan’s economic climate. While the government has dangled incentives, the sheer scale of PIA’s troubles makes it a tough sell. And with the Roosevelt now sitting idle once more, a key piece of the puzzle has fallen out of place. The hotel could have been a bargaining chip, proof that PIA had revenue-generating assets beyond its crumbling airline business. Now, it’s just another question mark in an already complicated equation. The fallout of the Roosevelt debacle extends beyond balance sheets. It’s a sobering reminder of the high stakes involved in mismanaging national assets. The hotel, once a gleaming symbol of Pakistan’s global aspirations, is now a casualty of shifting policies and financial miscalculations. Its story isn’t unique-state-owned properties across the world have faced similar fates when left at the mercy of poor governance. But in Pakistan’s case, where economic recovery hinges on making tough, decisive moves, the Roosevelt’s uncertainty sends the wrong message to potential investors. So where does this leave Pakistan? The government’s privatization drive must push forward, but with more strategy and less wishful thinking. Selling off struggling assets isn’t just about cutting losses-it’s about ensuring they don’t keep draining the national exchequer. The Roosevelt Hotel’s fate hangs in the balance, much like the broader question of whether Pakistan can finally turn its economic policies into something more than a cycle of crisis management. For now, the grand old Roosevelt waits. Its halls, once bustling with diplomats and dealmakers, stand eerily silent. Its chandeliers, once a beacon of old-world glamour, flicker uncertainly. Room and gloom-that’s the story of the Roosevelt today. But whether this is just another chapter or the beginning of the end depends on what Pakistan chooses to do next. The writer, a chartered accountant and certified business analyst, is serving as a CEO for Model Bazaars.