This blog was written by Aisha Naz Ansari, PhD Student, Durham University, UK.
Every year, young Pakistanis gather their certificates and ambitions into backpacks and quietly fly out. Some leave for further study, many simply because they can no longer see a future for themselves in Pakistan’s job market. This slow, steady movement has become so normal that we rarely pause to ask why starting over abroad feels easier than starting a career at home. A conversation with students and early-career professionals who have left the country paints a picture that is hard to ignore.
The first struggle they describe is landing a job in the first place. Merit alone rarely opens the door. Recent labour data show that Pakistan’s unemployed population rose from around 4.5 million in 2020-21 to nearly 5.9 million in 2024-25 with an increase about 31 percent more unemployed people. This rise has been sharpest among the young, many of whom hold university degrees but cannot secure steady work.
These are not students who drifted through their education. These are graduates from reputable institutions with huge investments of time, money and expectations in higher education. Many have worked part-time jobs, taken loans, or relied on family savings to earn degrees from reputable universities. Yet they talk about rejections that have nothing to do with their qualifications. Instead, they speak of closed loops of hiring, networks that matter more than competence, and recruitment processes that are murky at best. Research over the years has consistently shown that nepotism and favouritism remain common in public and private hiring. It is difficult to stay hopeful in a system where effort does not guarantee opportunity.
For those who finally manage to secure a position, the second blow often comes in the form of salary. Market-aligned salaries remain the exception rather than the rule. Many fresh graduates find that the pay bears no resemblance to their qualifications or the money invested in acquiring them. Similarly, evidence on graduate unemployment highlight that many employers offer entry-level remuneration far below the investment a student made to qualify for the role which indicates a mismatch that forces fresh graduates into underemployment. PIDE’s research on graduate unemployment shows a rising share of jobless young people with bachelor’s degrees or higher which reflects a deepening mismatch between education and labour-market demand. When a university degree does not improve your chances of earning a living wage, the incentive to leave becomes painfully clear.
And then comes the third layer which is the workplace itself. This is where many say their optimism finally erodes. Young employees describe environments where hierarchy dominates and trust is scarce. They recount being treated as replaceable rather than as emerging professionals who are still learning. Their time is stretched without regard for work-life balance. Initiative is discouraged because ‘that is not how things are done here.’ Mistakes are magnified; appreciation rarely arrives. Over time, even the most motivated individuals begin to feel worn down. In short, their efforts are doubted, their time is consumed without regard for personal lives, and trust between staff and management remains fragile where criticism is loud; appreciation is muted.
Meanwhile, those who eventually move abroad say they are startled by the difference. The irony is striking. The same individuals who feel suffocated in Pakistan find themselves respected and encouraged when they move abroad. They speak of managers who trust them, colleagues who value their input, and systems that reward initiative instead of punishing it. Their skills did not suddenly improve; only the context changed. It is this contrast, the sense of dignity and affirmation elsewhere, that ultimately shapes their decision to stay away. They feel valued and respected from feeling a sense of worth and external incentives for job productivity.
The macro picture helps explain why the micro experience feels so dispiriting. Pakistan remains a country of high labour-market blend and constrained formal job creation. Evidence of the emigration trends shows a sustained flow of people leaving for work or established family migration pathways. For instance, in 2023, some estimates reported that more than 0.86 million people emigrated, which is in continuation of a multi-year pattern in which hundreds of thousands seek opportunity abroad every year. Whether we label it brain drain, economic migration or family mobility, the consequence is the same: a steady outflow of energy, skill and potential from domestic labour markets.
Behind each statistic is a young person who once imagined a future in Pakistan. The cost of this loss is not merely economic. When a society repeatedly signals to its young that they are dispensable, it leaves deeper scars. Those who manage to leave may rebuild themselves elsewhere. Others, unable to leave, live with a quiet heaviness, which is a feeling that no matter how hard they try, the system will not meet them halfway on. The link between joblessness, hopelessness and mental health is well established in both global and local research. When potential repeatedly hits a dead end, it takes a toll not just on individuals but on families and communities. In its most tragic form, this despair can push individuals towards destructive paths.
So where does this leave us?
The solutions are not mysteries. First, hiring practices need transparency with publicly advertised vacancies; third-party oversight, and grievance mechanisms would make recruitment less vulnerable to patronage. Second, salaries must reflect qualifications and responsibility; apprenticeships, structured internships, and clearer wage benchmarks could strengthen the bridge between education and stable employment. Third, workplaces need to become places where young people are mentored rather than placed under pressure, where feedback is constructive, and where performance is actually rewarded.
Other countries have shown that change is possible. Many who have succeeded in retaining skilled workers have done so by pairing higher education with deliberate labour-market reforms such as creating predictable transitions from study to employment, supporting industries that can absorb graduates, and investing in young entrepreneurs. These reforms are not glamorous, but they work.
The choice ahead of Pakistan is simple but urgent. We can keep watching our most capable young people leave, taking their talent and energy with them. Or we can decide to treat them differently – nothing more than with fairness, dignity and trust. The question is not whether Pakistan has the talent; it is whether we are willing to value it. If workplaces become places where effort is recognised, progression is transparent, and remuneration reflects qualification. Then leaving will become a choice, not a compulsion.
