Winter fog settles on the Indus plain near DG Khan as a young man steps off a bus holding a fresh B. Com degree and a cracked phone. He can recite a balance sheet, but cannot repair the device in his hand. Around him, mechanics revive motorcycles and tailors sew wedding dresses, workers who rely on skills, not syllabi. His predicament reflects a national dilemma: Pakistan produces degrees far faster than it produces employable skills.
Even though there are 71.8 million people working in Pakistan, a significant portion of recent graduates are unemployed. In the meantime, over 85% of jobs are growing in the unorganized sector, where a plumber who knows how to use digital invoices can make more money than a commerce graduate who doesn’t know how to use basic technology. Every school year, the gap between what our colleges teach and what employers require grows.
The agreement between education and employment has already been revised in other nations. Singapore won’t pay for a university seat unless at least one-third of the curriculum is co-designed by industry. Before they reach 25, German apprentices successfully finish demanding dual-training programs and become qualified export managers. More than a thousand “skilled cities” have been established in China, where urban status is attained more quickly by those with vocational degrees than by those with doctorates. In contrast, Pakistan is still committed to paper degrees rather than skills that are ready for the workforce.
The foundation is where this separation starts. We expect children to compete in a global digital economy, even though only around one-third of households have internet access. One example from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa shows what is feasible: 13,000 young people were trained in basic freelancing through a pilot project that used government schools after hours. 6,000 declared taxable income in less than six months. It was less expensive to complete the experiment than to construct a single flyover. If evening digital labs are expanded across the country, they may light up every tehsil and provide rural youngsters with access to new sources of income.
Career navigation is a layer that is often overlooked between madrassa and university. Every year, more than a million students take intermediate exams, but there isn’t a national portal or guidance service that tells them about potential career paths. For a teenager from Dadu, a toll-free national career line manned by counselors, tradespeople, and tech experts could map out several options, such as matric plus a robotics certificate, grade twelve plus a solar apprenticeship, or college plus an incubation opportunity. Government colleges should establish Career Days where local craftspeople, digital freelancers, and small business owners who show respectable, workable alternatives to conventional paths serve as role models instead of vice chancellors.
The divide between academia and industry is still very noticeable at the university level. Just 8% of graduates work on any projects related to the sector prior to graduation. Reforming the incentives is the answer, not broadening the curriculum. Every public institution should release an Employability Dashboard every year that shows the percentage of graduates who find employment within six months, the industries they enter, and the median beginning income. These dashboards could assist parents and kids in making educated decisions if they are made public, similar to menus on café tables. Businesses might be encouraged by tax incentives to set up innovation labs on campuses so that students can smell machinery and solder next to library books.
TVET, or technical and vocational education and training, is still the system’s most neglected pillar. Despite the nation’s concerns about rising young unemployment, only 6% of workers hold a formal vocational certificate. Bold measures are needed to elevate TVET to a position of aspiration: establish dual-track high schools where students obtain both matric certification and a Level-3 vocational qualification in fields like robotics, solar installation, or precision machining; and permit vocational graduates with two years of work experience to take competitive civil-service exams.
The vast yet unacknowledged competence of Pakistan’s informal labor population may be found in bazaars from Anarkali to Landhi. Tailors stitch clothes that end up in Dubai boutiques, electricians memorize wire gauges, and carpenters cut walnut without the use of CAD software. However, because their abilities are not recorded, they continue to be statistically undetectable. Thousands of people might be certified in a matter of months with a straightforward district-level challenge exam that is partially oral and partially practical. After that, certified workers could apply for formal-sector contracts, insure their instruments, and obtain microloans. The growth of Bangladesh’s apparel industry demonstrates how millions of people can be lifted out of poverty by certifying informal laborers.
Another frontier is provided by digital literacy. By learning to list empty-return loads on Facebook Marketplace, a truck driver who is preoccupied with his phone may treble his earnings. Short language-based audio lessons in Sindhi, Pashto, and Saraiki might instruct small vendors on how to take product photos for Instagram, accept safe digital payments, or bargain with foreign customers. Mosques might broadcast short digital literacy messages following Fajr, transforming the minaret into a gentle tower of learning, and utility bills may include QR codes that lead to free educational libraries.
The private sector needs to go beyond token CSR contributions. If a textile firm needs 500 loom operators, it should co-finance training programmes and recover costs through payroll deductions over fixed periods. By ensuring that skilled people won’t be poached too soon, the government can lower the risk to the company. These agreements significantly reduced turnover in Sri Lanka’s garment industry. TVET graduates who present workable business proposals may be eligible for seed funds of about Rs 500,000, which would only need to be repaid if profits are generated. Vocational graduates may become employers as a result of this “nano-equity.”
The change is ultimately cultural. Laws can change quickly but mindsets evolve slowly. Building on the scope of previous public health campaigns, a national Dignity of Labor Campaign may instill respect for skilled labor in the collective consciousness. Dramas on television might show welders purchasing automobiles ahead of their unemployed cousins with degrees. Schools might recognize electricians who support their daughters’ medical education. Congregations could be reminded by religious authorities that the Prophet (PBUH) was both a trader and a shepherd. The change will be finished when families celebrate a son using a CNC machine overseas with the same pride as a civil-service assignment.
The change is ultimately cultural. Laws might change rapidly but mindsets adapt slowly. Building on the scope of previous public health campaigns, a national Dignity of Labor Campaign may instill respect for skilled labor in the collective consciousness. Dramas on television might show welders purchasing automobiles ahead of their unemployed cousins with degrees. Schools might recognize electricians who support their daughters’ medical education. Congregations could be reminded by religious authorities that the Prophet (PBUH) was both a trader and a shepherd. The change will be finished when families celebrate a son using a CNC machine overseas with the same pride as a civil-service assignment.
The future will not depend on parchment alone. It will be shaped by those who can turn learning into livelihoods, and degrees into dignity. Let the shift begin.