By Ghulam Hussain Baloch
In the rugged and majestic expanse of Balochistan, beneath the shadow of its ancient mountains and along its windswept plains, lives a youth population full of promise. They are not a generation lacking intelligence or ambition. What they lack is access—access to the kind of education that does more than impart theory, that equips, empowers, and enables. For too long, the education system in Balochistan has offered knowledge in isolation. It teaches, yes, but it does not train. It informs, but it does not equip. And in today’s world, where job markets evolve by the month and economic landscapes shift like sand, the absence of practical skills among the young is no longer just a developmental oversight—it is a social injustice.
A school certificate, while important, has ceased to be the ticket it once was. Literacy alone does not translate to livelihood. You cannot code a website, repair an engine, or cultivate high-yield crops with textbook answers. The disconnect between traditional education and employable skills is stark—and for many young Balochistanis, it’s the gap that keeps them out of opportunity’s reach. This gap is not theoretical. It is painfully visible in the rising number of young people who complete their education only to return to their villages with little more than frustration. Not because they lack the will to work, but because the system gave them no means to do so. This is a failure that cannot be papered over with promises. It demands action.
It begins by reimagining what education means in Balochistan. We must ask: what good is a classroom if it does not prepare a student for the world outside its walls? What purpose does schooling serve if it leaves a young adult standing idle, watching life pass by, unable to participate? The answer lies in the integration of vocational training—education that builds not only the mind, but the hands. Training that leads to work, dignity, and self-reliance. When skill and knowledge meet, the results are powerful. A young person with both can not only find a job—they can create one. They can start small businesses, support families, contribute to local economies, and inspire others in their communities to do the same. Empowered youth are not just individuals—they are catalysts for growth.
But in Balochistan, such empowerment remains a distant dream for many. The existing infrastructure for skill development is patchy at best, absent at worst. Vocational centers are few and far between. Resources are stretched, programs outdated, and outreach virtually nonexistent in remote areas. This is not a question of money alone. It is a question of priorities. If the youth of Balochistan are to rise, then governments, educational institutions, private sectors, and civil society must rise with them. Skill development must be treated not as an afterthought or a supplementary policy, but as a central pillar of economic planning. Training programs must be designed in consultation with industry experts, tailored to market demands, and rooted in the tools of technology.
The days of churning out degrees disconnected from employment realities must come to an end. And yet, the burden of change does not fall only on institutions. It also lies with the youth themselves. There is a mindset shift that must accompany any structural reform. The dichotomy between education and vocation must be dismantled. These are not opposing roads. They are companions. A degree without a skill may flatter the intellect, but it often fails the wallet. A skill without learning may serve in the short term, but limits future growth. Together, they form the foundation of real, sustainable empowerment. In Balochistan, this fusion is not optional. It is essential. No amount of rhetoric about development will hold weight if it does not translate into the tools young people need to build their lives.
The vision of a thriving, prosperous Balochistan is not far-fetched. But it will remain just that—a vision—unless it is grounded in real investment in the province’s most valuable asset: its youth. This is a call not just to policymakers, but to the national conscience. To see each young person not as a statistic, not as a voter, not as a recipient of charity, but as a potential innovator, builder, leader. To humanize our interventions and realize that every untrained young person is not just an economic liability, but a story interrupted. And every skilled youth is a story fulfilled. Knowledge, after all, can open the mind. But it is skill that opens doors. And until the youth of Balochistan are equipped with both, progress will remain a word whispered in policy rooms, rather than a reality lived in homes, streets, and workshops across the province. Empowerment begins when education stops being abstract—and starts being useful.
(The writer is a journalist working with different tasks currently stationed in Balochistan, can be reached at news@metro-morning.com)
