By Majid Maqsood
A recent education report by the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics concerning Sindh has revealed deeply alarming figures. Yet, the people of Sindh have shown little reaction to these stark revelations. The report outlines the literacy rate across all districts, with Sujawal emerging as the most neglected — a staggering 78 percent of its population is illiterate. With a population of approximately 850,000, this means around 650,000 people in Sujawal cannot read or write. Similarly, Tharparkar’s literacy rate stands at just 26 percent. With a total population of around 1.65 million, over 1.1 million residents are illiterate. In contrast, Karachi East boasts the highest literacy rate in the province at 88 percent. The report further discloses that Shikarpur — once romanticized as the “Paris of Sindh” — now has a literacy rate of merely 28 percent.
Out of its 1.35 million residents, roughly one million are illiterate. Malir, another district of Karachi, shows a comparatively better figure, with 72 percent literacy. Outside Karachi, no other district in Sindh crosses the 60 percent literacy threshold, painting a bleak educational picture. Sukkur and Larkana stand at 58 percent, while Benazirabad — the home district of the President — reports 52 percent. Dadu, the constituency of Chief Minister Murad Ali Shah, reports 47 percent, and Umerkot, the home turf of Education Minister Sardar Shah, lags behind at 38 percent. Surprisingly, Kashmore — often viewed as one of the most troubled districts — shows a 53 percent literacy rate, performing better than many others. In Khairpur, the native district of former Chief Ministers Qaim Ali Shah and Ghaus Ali Shah, literacy is just 50 percent.
The data presents a troubling paradox. Despite staggering illiteracy, nearly 99.9 percent of Sindh’s uneducated population consistently votes for the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), while the educated class continues to critique the party’s performance. However, politically, PPP’s 15-year governance in Sindh has strategically deepened its support base, especially in districts with low literacy — increasing its voter strength by at least 30 percent. In such regions, dislodging PPP now seems nearly impossible. It can be argued that the party’s evolving narrative and deep-rooted connections with the masses have helped it consistently win elections and form governments. However, the question looms: what if 98 percent of Sindh’s population were literate?
Would government contractors still dare to admit they return 60 percent of every project’s budget to higher-ups and complete the work with the remaining 40 percent for personal gain? Such corruption thrives only in societies left ignorant and uneducated. Another report reveals that over the past 15 years, Punjab’s literacy rate rose from 66 percent to 78 percent. Sindh, by contrast, moved sluggishly from 58 percent to 59 percent. This single percentage point reflects a decade and a half of stagnation. It’s often said that those who work speak less. In Sindh’s education department, the opposite holds true: the rhetoric is loud, but the ground reality remains dismal. The 2025–26 budget allocates Rs613.36 billion, marking an 18 percent increase — including Rs89 billion for development.
If even Rs2 billion were given to each of Sindh’s 30 districts to provide basic school facilities, the educational landscape could change. Worse still, less than 20 percent of the allocated budget is actually spent on essential infrastructure — and no one dares raise their voice against this chronic mismanagement. The digital learning budget has seen a dramatic increase — from Rs3 billion to Rs19 billion. Yet Sindh has no real digital institutions and few digital learning programs. While organizations like Teach the World Foundation are making some effort, Sindh Education Foundation’s schools are ill-equipped to deliver digital education. The teachers hired receive meagre salaries of Rs15,000 to 20,000 — nowhere near what a digital education professional would require.
On top of that, 70 percent of rural Sindh lacks internet access. Policymakers in Karachi often assume the internet is functional across the province, but those working in the field know otherwise. Mobile data only works near towers — stray too far, and the signal dies. Power outages lasting up to 20 hours cripple the towers, which lack backup generators. I recently visited a village with a mobile tower but no generator. A local resident told me: “Sir, when electricity comes, the signal comes. Without power, there’s no internet.” I’m no technical expert, but that’s how locals explained it. Under such conditions, how can digital education ever take root? This situation brings to mind another episode. When music teachers were appointed, the media celebrated the move.
Photos were taken, congratulatory messages sent. But in reality, no posting orders were issued and no classrooms existed to host music education. Similarly, outside major cities, digital education infrastructure remains a fantasy, despite the 19-billion-rupee budget. I’ve personally heard Chief Minister Murad Ali Shah say he is willing to provide whatever budget is needed for education. But the real problem is not budget — it is governance. There is simply no focus on educational management. Take, for example, a recent scandal in college education. A teacher training program worth millions was planned, but no actual training occurred. Allegedly, the funds were embezzled. Sources claim preferred individuals were hired simply to reflect costs on paper — with no training ever delivered.
Further reports indicate that the Reform Support Unit (RSU) hires engineering firms to carry out teacher training — not for quality, but to ensure favored contractors are paid and commissions secured. Many of these projects involve hiring friends and associates, with zero accountability on whether the work is done at all. Now the government proposes giving headmasters more authority to improve their schools. But many of these headmasters have risen through seniority — not for their understanding of education or management. Ask one to define “management”, and most won’t be able to respond. Yet these are the individuals now entrusted with school budgets and administrative powers. In truth, many headmasters don’t even have the confidence to use their existing School Management Committee (SMC) funds. Millions of rupees lie idle in SMC accounts across Sindh.
If these funds go untouched, how will they manage larger budgets? For any real reform, headmasters need serious training. They must learn to assess which teachers are best suited for which subjects, how to evaluate teaching methods, and whether students are actually learning. Schools, at the very least, must offer basic facilities: clean drinking water, seating, proper toilets and functional classrooms. It should be strictly prohibited to force children to clean school premises. Too often, well-dressed students are made to scrub floors or carry benches heavier than themselves. Where peons exist, they are often absent or idle — and the burden falls on the children. No wonder many drop out entirely. The Education Ministry must make governance reform its top priority.
(The writer is a senior analyst social, political, and geopolitical scenarios, can be reached at news@metro-morning.com)
