A recently published UNICEF report has exposed the staggering scale of Pakistan’s education crisis: an estimated 25.37 million children aged five to sixteen are out of school—the second-highest number in the world. They represent 35 per cent of all children in this age group. Punjab alone accounts for 9.7 million, while Sindh has 7.4 million out-of-school children, or 44 per cent of its school-age population. The government’s Household Integrated Economic Survey 2024-25, released in January after a six-year gap, puts the national out-of-school rate at 28 per cent: 20 per cent have never entered a classroom, while another 8 per cent enrolled but subsequently dropped out. Rural girls in Sindh and Balochistan bear the heaviest burden.
Pakistan has become disturbingly accustomed to such numbers. They appear in education conferences, donor reports and ministerial speeches, generate headlines for a day and then disappear. Perhaps the problem begins with how we define the crisis. We call it an “education problem”, allowing it to remain largely within the domain of the education authorities. It is time to recognize the reality: Pakistan’s education crisis is a national security and economic emergency.
Consider the demographic arithmetic. Pakistan’s population stands at around 252 million and is growing at 2.07 per cent annually. According to the Economic Survey 2025-26, nearly 57 per cent of the population is of working age, while 26.6 per cent is between 15 and 29. Economists describe this as a potential demographic dividend. But a dividend can only be harvested from capital in which a country has invested.
Our investment remains dangerously inadequate. Public spending on education is just 0.8 per cent of GDP, while health receives another 0.8 per cent—a combined 1.6 per cent of national income for the two sectors that determine the quality of human capital. The global average for education spending alone is close to 4 per cent.
The problem begins even before children reach school age. Some 33.6 per cent of Pakistani children under five are stunted, suffering physical and cognitive damage that can become irreversible. The Economic Survey notes that Pakistan’s demographic-dividend window, once expected to close around 2045, has been extended to 2055—not because of a major achievement, but because fertility is declining more slowly than previously projected.
We are producing more Pakistanis while preparing fewer of them for productive citizenship, consider what happens to these children. A child who never enters school in 2026 will reach adulthood in the late 2030s. He or she will enter a labour market already struggling to create productive employment. Unemployment has risen from 6.3 to 7.1 per cent, with 5.9 million people looking for work, while youth literacy stands at only 58.4 per cent. Upper-secondary enrolment is a mere 29 per cent, meaning that even many who enter school do not acquire the education and skills required for a modern economy.
For millions, the informal economy will remain the only available destination, offering survival wages rather than productive careers. The consequences extend beyond economics. Pakistan has already experienced the social and security costs of leaving young people without education, skills and economic opportunity.
Twenty-five million out-of-school children therefore represent far more than a social statistic. They are tomorrow’s workforce. If we fail to educate and equip them, we risk turning a potential demographic dividend into a demographic burden.
The solution does not require reinventing the wheel; it requires scaling models that have already demonstrated results.
First, the state must stop equating education exclusively with government schools. The Punjab Education Foundation has demonstrated that publicly financed, privately delivered education—through per-child subsidies and vouchers to low-cost private schools—can bring millions of children into classrooms at a fraction of the cost of the conventional public-school system, provided independent assessment and accountability are maintained. This model deserves national expansion, particularly in Sindh.
Second, children who are too old to enter Class I should not be abandoned. Pakistan already has 35,427 non-formal education centers serving 1.29 million learners. Accelerated learning programs combining academic and vocational education have demonstrated retention rates of around 70 per cent. Such programs should be expanded dramatically, with greater emphasis on a “middle-tech” model combining classroom learning with practical skills. The objective should be to produce employable young people within three years rather than leave them trapped in a system designed for a ten-year educational journey.
Third, education financing must follow outcomes rather than buildings. Public funds should be linked to enrolment, attendance, retention and independently measured learning. The objective is straightforward: public money must produce educated children—not ghost schools, empty classrooms or absent teachers.
Finally, no education policy can succeed on empty stomachs. School meals and early-childhood nutrition programs are not charity; they are among the most cost-effective investments Pakistan can make in protecting the physical and cognitive potential of its future workforce.
None of this is beyond the capacity of a state that can operate the Benazir Income Support Program at national scale and conduct a digital census across the country. What is missing is political recognition that education is not a peripheral social-sector issue. It is central to Pakistan’s economic survival, social stability and national security.
Pakistan’s 25 million out-of-school children should not be viewed merely as a crisis. They are an opportunity—the opportunity to transform a young population into a productive workforce and a stronger society.
Educate them. Equip them. Give them a stake in Pakistan’s future.
An educated Pakistan will not only be a more prosperous Pakistan; it will be a stronger, more stable and more secure Pakistan.