بلاگز

By Tahseen Ullah  For decades, labour migration in Pakistan has largely been viewed as a response to unemployment and poverty. While this perspective has served its purpose, it no longer reflects the realities of today’s global economy. In the twenty-first century, labour mobility has become far more than an economic necessity—it is a strategic investment in human capital, national competitiveness and economic diplomacy. Countries that can produce skilled, certified and globally competitive workers will hold a distinct advantage in an increasingly interconnected labour market. As ageing populations, declining fertility rates and persistent labour shortages reshape developed economies, demand for skilled workers is rising across Europe, East Asia and other advanced markets. Pakistan, with one of the world’s youngest populations, is well positioned to seize this opportunity. The real challenge is not whether Pakistan has enough young people willing to work abroad, but whether it can equip them with internationally recognised skills, qualifications, language proficiency and professional competencies that meet evolving global labour market demands. Pakistan’s labour migration journey began with the establishment of the Bureau of Emigration and Overseas Employment in 1971, following the Gulf oil boom. Since then, more than 15 million Pakistanis have migrated through regular channels, contributing significantly to infrastructure, healthcare, construction, transport and service sectors worldwide while improving the livelihoods of millions of families back home. Today, overseas employment remains one of Pakistan’s most important economic assets. According to BEOE, 862,625 Pakistanis migrated for employment in 2023, followed by 725,672 in 2024 and 762,499 in 2025, with early trends indicating sustained international demand in 2026. Meanwhile, the Pakistan Migration Report 2025 and the State Bank of Pakistan estimate workers’ remittances at approximately US$38.3 billion in FY2024–25, representing nearly 9.34 percent of GDP. These remittances strengthen foreign exchange reserves, reduce poverty and support macroeconomic stability. Yet labour migration has rarely been treated as a strategic pillar of Pakistan’s long-term economic planning. The global labour market is undergoing profound change. According to the World Economic Forum’s Future of Jobs Report 2025, demographic shifts, technological advances and the green transition will create millions of new employment opportunities over the coming decade. Healthcare professionals, engineers, IT specialists, skilled technicians, renewable energy workers, construction professionals and caregivers are expected to remain in particularly high demand. Pakistan possesses a valuable demographic dividend, with nearly two-thirds of its population under the age of 30. However, this advantage will only translate into economic gains through sustained investment in education, Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET), international certification, digital skills and language training. The challenge is clear. The Pakistan Migration Report 2025 shows that nearly two-thirds of Pakistani migrant workers remain low-skilled or unskilled. While their contribution is invaluable, low-skilled employment often results in lower wages, limited career progression and greater vulnerability to labour market shocks. In contrast, highly skilled migrants generally access better jobs, stronger labour protections and significantly higher earnings. Pakistan must therefore move beyond a traditional labour export model towards a human capital export strategy. Success should no longer be measured simply by the number of workers leaving the country, but by the quality, productivity and global competitiveness of its workforce. Achieving this transformation requires comprehensive reforms. TVET institutions must align training with international occupational standards and labour market needs. Language education in German, Japanese, Korean and Italian, alongside digital literacy, workplace ethics and intercultural communication, should become integral components of workforce development. Market diversification is equally important. While Gulf Cooperation Council countries will remain Pakistan’s primary labour destinations, excessive dependence on one region exposes the country to geopolitical uncertainty and labour market fluctuations. Pakistan should actively expand regular labour mobility partnerships with Europe, Japan, South Korea, Australia and Canada, where structural labour shortages continue to grow. Government-to-government labour mobility agreements should become a strategic priority. Such partnerships can enhance transparency, reduce recruitment costs, improve worker protection and strengthen employer confidence in Pakistani talent. Simultaneously, Pakistan should pursue mutual recognition of qualifications and internationally accepted skills certification to facilitate smoother labour market integration. Institutional coordination will also be essential. The Ministry of Overseas Pakistanis and Human Resource Development, together with the NAVTTC, provincial TEVTAs, Overseas Employment Promoters, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Pakistan’s overseas missions, should implement an integrated national labour mobility framework supported by labour market intelligence, digital recruitment platforms and evidence-based policymaking. Pakistan can draw valuable lessons from the Philippines, whose migration governance combines ethical recruitment, mandatory pre-departure orientation, comprehensive worker welfare and strong overseas support systems. Adapting these practices would strengthen Pakistan’s reputation as a reliable source of skilled and protected migrant workers. At the same time, addressing irregular migration must remain a national priority. Preventing dangerous migration routes requires expanding legal migration opportunities, strengthening career counselling, improving public awareness, dismantling human smuggling networks and ensuring aspiring migrants have access to reliable information and affordable recruitment services. Labour migration should no longer be viewed solely as a means of reducing unemployment or increasing remittances. It should be recognised as a cornerstone of Pakistan’s economic diplomacy, human capital development and long-term growth strategy. The countries that will lead the future of global labour mobility will not necessarily be those with the largest populations, but those that invest in producing highly skilled, internationally certified and globally competitive talent. Pakistan has already demonstrated its ability to contribute to the global workforce. The next step is to move beyond exporting labour to exporting talent. By investing in skills, strengthening institutions, diversifying labour markets and promoting ethical, well-governed migration, Pakistan can transform its demographic dividend into one of its greatest strategic advantages. The world is searching for talent. Pakistan has the youth. What it now needs is the vision to turn that potential into global human capital leadership. Tahseen Ullah is a development and migration sector practitioner specializing in labour mobility, migration governance, education and child protection. He can be reached at tahseenanthro@gmail.com

By Dr.Sajjad Ali A suffering pervades the walled villages of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and the privacy of the homes in the city, in a language of suffering all distinct. The language of infertility is not the one used in medical textbooks but it is the one that speaks to life and death in Pashtun society. Being a childless woman is being defined by a lexicon of failure here, a failure that runs against the very ethos of Pashtunwali, where a person’s nasl (lineage) and naam (name) is everything. The condition is identical, but the language employed to use it as a weapon against women and men are very different, very vicious. It is a public indictment to her; a silent, emasculating damnation to him. The Woman’s Cross: The Public Indictment The worthiness of a Pashtun woman is arbitrarily squeezed into her reproductive capability. When she drops the one perceived duty, she is not infertile, she is cursed, useless and dangerous. The attack starts with an endless list of names and peghoor (tease). She is a banjh (barren), the most common and heart-breaking epithet. She is a shana (dry, unfruitful tree that bears no fruit). She is khaanch (empty), a hollow vessel with no substance. The elders of the family complain, “Mata plar na laree, khaanch de” (She hasn’t borne him a son, she is empty). Her body is compared to the barren land of Sheera zameena (salty, infertile land) which nothing can grow, or shara (fallow land). The childless woman or the one whose children have died is generally known as a kheeri, which translates as woman of ill omen, bearer of misfortune. She is slightly banned from being present at weddings or cradles (gharay). When a child is sick after the visit, people begin muttering, “Da kheeri da las na ye bimar sho” (After the touch of the kheeri the child fell sick). This spiritual banishment is so devastating! If her husband returns to marriage, or if the family goes bankrupt, she is considered a shamat (a bad omen, a curse to the family) and a manhoos (inauspicious, unlucky). The psychological take-home message is no less horrifying: she is not only failing to give birth; she is an active, evil agent of birthlessness and death and decay. She’s a curse for their existence. The peghoor is available in a dramatic fashion. A mother-in-law would see a hen with chicks and will loudly cry out, “Da charkha ham bachy kawal, khu da adamzad mung na shwe.” (Even this hen hatched chicks, but this human gave us nothing). Neighbours grumble, ‘Khudai da qahar da, cha ta kho pukha na we (She is God’s wrath, she hasn’t ripened for anybody—to mean that she has not become a mother). A cruel comic scene that is often acted out: The guest exclaims the house is a paradise, and the mother-in-law replies, “Kor kho jannat de, khu khaanch de, khoonda raghlay na de” [The house is a paradise, but it is empty, no fragrance has come into it]—singing about the fragrance of a child which reminds her of something she failed to do with her daughter-in-law. This puts her in an economic hostage position. She is a servile slave to make up for her “defect” because of the ever-present unspoken danger of a balka (co-wife). All the money is spent on her own “cure,” which includes dangerous dai (traditional birth attendant) concoctions, expensive visits to taweez-keeping (piir sahib) and futile taweez (amulet) usage. She will wear a tawiz laced with prayers for fertility and she will be made to drink water that has been washed with a dranzay (a special supplication)—her husband’s diagnosis will not even be suspected. This quest devours the family’s resources, everything aimed at the woman who is in a desperate struggle to remain not the family’s shamat. The Man’s Secret: The Silent Emasculation The man feels that the lack of producing babies is not something he has failed to do biologically, but something he has failed to do as a man. He can’t be brought into pity, because if he is, he’s acknowledging that he lost nang (honour). The words he has to say, the words he is not allowed to say, the words he can’t say at all: his torment is a poison that is surrounded by a wall of aggressive denial, but is intended to un-man him. If he is unable to generate a zo-ye (a son), then he is no longer a sar-ye (a man, a leader). His name is a na-mard, the worst of all names, that of a non-man. He is a susra—an utterly impotent, weakling man, a term of maximum contempt. A khassya (castrated bull, eunuch), who has no power and virility. He is a namardanz (an impotent creature). A popular bit of vicious poetry is: “Dwa kalah ye we-weted, khu goly ye na kholay shwe” (“He tried twice, but not a bud was able to blossom for him”, a poetic and mean way of saying that he was unable to start life. His true trial is in the hujra (man’s assembly). The taunt is never a literal arrow, but an arrow of some sort. A story will be told: “Da kala de, cha tofang walwela, khu dasy nese wa, che laande khassia we” (“There’s a man who wields a big rifle, and makes a lot of noise, but inside, he’s a eunuch”). They all laugh, the childless man is forced to laugh loudest, and the white-hot shame is his. The tale is best told in a popular social media comic strip that shows a doctor showing a semen analysis report to a furiously upset husband with a nervous wife looking on: Panel 1: A doctor shows a semen analysis report to a furious-looking husband, with his wife sitting nervously. The Doctor says, “The report reads: azoospermia.The Doctor says, “The report reads azoospermia. Panel 2: A huge, broken speech bubble bursts out of the husband’s mouth: “Tor! Tor! Sta da peghalay!” (“Lies! “It’s your slander!”)

By Nabiha Khalid A specific sort of discomfort falls over a newsroom when the instruments of the profession begin to surpass the ethical standards intended to regulate them. Artificial intelligence is now capable of creating text, images, and videos that are indistinguishable from genuine human creations, and the consequences of this change are far from straightforward. When a false quote can be convincingly linked to a public figure, or when a deepfake video can spread more swiftly than any correction can be issued, the very core of journalistic integrity the assumption that reported facts reflect what has truly happened faces significant pressure. This is not an imagined crisis; it is the current reality in modern media. I attened a workshop under the project titled “Digital Trust and Free Expression in the AI Era” at the Department of Media and Development Communication, University of the Punjab, supported by the U.S. Mission to Pakistan in partnership with the Pakistan-U.S. Alumni Network (PUAN) last week and we discuused in the wrodkshop that what ethical journalism requires in today’s context cannot depend solely on instinct. Verification must be a systematic process rather than something that happens by chance, involving a discipline of cross-checking, sourcing from multiple angles, and being technically adept at identifying manipulated media. Fact-checking, which used to be a background activity conducted before publication, must now be approached as a clear, continual practice that news consumers can observe and rely on. The difference between accurate reporting and unintentionally spreading misinformation often hinges on this one consistent habit of verification, applied uniformly rather than selectively. It is equally important to emphasize responsible digital storytelling, understanding that journalists do not just deliver information but are guardians of public knowledge. In an information landscape dominated by AI, the journalist’s role evolves slightly: from being the first to break news to becoming the most trustworthy source to verify it. This shift does not imply a lesser role; rather, it could very well be the most crucial aspect of journalism in the coming years. It is important to place this change in a broader historical context. Journalism has endured disruptive technologies in the past the telegraph shortened distances, the around-the-clock news cycle diminished patience, and social media altered the role of gatekeeping, enabling anyone with a smartphone to share information. Each disruption brought about its own ethical challenges, and each time, the industry persisted not by opposing the technology but by creating new standards to regulate it. Artificial intelligence is the newest and possibly the most significant example of this trend. What sets it apart from previous disruptions is the remarkable realism of synthetic content: earlier types of misinformation needed some level of narrative development, whereas AI can now generate the very evidence needed an image, a voice, a document ,Journalism has long relied on certain standards as evidence. This brings up a difficult yet essential question: can the technologies that jeopardize trust in journalism also aid in its restoration? The answer, with caution, is affirmative. News organizations are increasingly utilizing AI-assisted verification tools, reverse-image analysis, and metadata forensics to combat the misuse of these very technologies. This dual nature of AI serving both as a threat and a tool indicates that ethical journalism today necessitates a level of technical knowledge that was not mandatory a decade ago but has now become crucial. A journalist who lacks training in identifying the distinctive markers of synthetic media is, in a significant way, not adequately equipped for the current landscape. Additionally, there is a less obvious yet significant challenge to address: the imbalance between the rapid production of AI-generated content and the measured approach of ethical journalism. News organizations facing pressure to publish swiftly areparticularly prone to this disparity, making it essential that rigorous editorial standards, rather than advanced technological capabilities, serve as the key protection.No matter how advanced a detection tool may be, it cannot take the place of an organizational culture which places a priority on accuracy rather than on immediacy. The responsibility for digital trust does not fall solely on journalists. Public media literacy the ability to critically assess a viral image, to look for a second source before sharing, and to identify the emotional manipulation often present in synthetic content serves as a crucial second line of defense. In this regard, ethical journalism and an informed audience are interdependent: one cannot completely substitute for the lack of the other. The diligence of a newsroom holds little value if its audience hasn’t been prepared to recognize and demand that diligence in the first place. So, in an age when artificial intelligence is involved, ethical journalism does not call for rejecting technology; rather it involves basing the use of technology on firm principles of verification, transparency, and accountability. The future of the newsroom won’t be determined by how fast it publishes, but by the care with which it confirms the facts, and perhaps that is the most human safeguard we still have. The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the U.S. Mission to Pakistan or USEFP/PUAN.