By Prof. Dr. Taimoor ul Hassan
There is an army in Pakistan that never marches, never protests, and rarely makes headlines. It sits quietly in classrooms, underfunded labs, and offices where the lights flicker during power cuts. It is an army of scholars—thousands of them—trained at home and abroad, holders of the highest academic degree: the PhD.
Every year, our universities produce nearly three thousand new PhDs. Since the early 2000s, when the Higher Education Commission first began expanding higher education, their numbers have grown exponentially. In 2002, only 285 PhDs were awarded. By 2022, that number had soared to over 3,000 annually—a remarkable leap by any measure. And yet, what have we done with this intellectual power? Almost nothing.
The tragedy is not the absence of talent but the absence of vision. Many scholars are trapped in teaching-heavy jobs, their research dreams suffocated by endless course loads, bureaucracy, and lack of funding. Others wander jobless, their hard-earned degrees reduced to fragile paper shields against a ruthless employment market. Even the HEC admits that more than four thousand PhD holders in Pakistan are unemployed. We have cultivated brilliance—and then abandoned it.
Contrast this with nations that faced even harsher odds but turned academic talent into national strength. South Korea in the 1960s was poorer than Pakistan. It poured its PhDs into industry, technology, and state planning. Today, it leads the world in semiconductors and automobiles. Finland in the 1990s redirected its scholars toward innovation and digital futures, emerging as a model welfare state with world-class technology. China produces more PhDs than any other country, embedding them not just in universities but also in industries, government, and research think tanks that guide national policy.
Pakistan, on the other hand, keeps its PhDs boxed into narrow roles: “lecturer” and “associate professor.” They are treated as classroom fillers, not knowledge leaders. When ministries draft policy on water, energy, health, or climate change, how many PhDs sit at the table? How many professors guide agricultural reform or design our digital future? We do not lack thinkers—we lack the humility to listen to them.
The numbers tell their own story. In 2021–22, Pakistan awarded 3,076 PhDs, rising to 3,271 before dipping slightly to 3,035 the following year. In Khyber Pakhtunkhwa alone, enrollment jumped from 3,339 in 2021–22 to 4,432 in 2023–24. Yet in the same province, of forty-one billion rupees spent on universities, only 1.2 billion was allocated to research—barely three percent. The equation is simple: we are producing more scholars but investing less in their work. We have built the façade of an intellectual culture without its foundations.
The failures are structural. Hiring in universities still bends to connections and patronage rather than merit. Teaching loads overwhelm faculty while research funding remains scarce or poorly managed. And the gap between academia and policymaking is a canyon. It is no wonder that our brightest often choose exile, feeding other nations’ knowledge economies while their homeland starves.
But it does not have to be this way. An intellectual revolution is possible, though it will not come with flags or slogans. It will come through reforms that seem almost mundane:
- Transparent recruitment that rewards research and innovation over seniority.
- National research grants tied to the Sustainable Development Goals so scholars can work on food security, climate change, energy, and digital transformation.
- Structured postdoctoral opportunities to keep Pakistani PhDs connected to the global knowledge economy.
- Tax incentives for industries that collaborate with universities to solve real problems.
- Advisory councils in every ministry, led by PhDs with field expertise.
None of these are impossible. They only require political will.
Yet institutions alone cannot shift the tide. A cultural change is equally necessary. In Pakistan, we celebrate celebrities, generals, and politicians—but rarely do we celebrate scholars. The scientist, the researcher, the academic remain invisible in the public imagination. If society began to recognize intellectual contributions with the same pride it reserves for cricket victories or political speeches, the atmosphere would transform. Media could spotlight breakthrough research, awards could honor impactful dissertations, and mentorship programs could nurture the next generation. A society that respects its thinkers compels its leaders to do the same.
This quiet revolution will not happen in the streets. It will unfold in overlooked spaces: a lab where a researcher discovers a drought-resistant wheat strain, a think tank where a professor drafts a water policy, a classroom where a PhD inspires students to see knowledge as power. Its impact will surpass the noise of rallies and slogans. Better research will feed into smarter policies. Smarter policies will strengthen industries. Stronger industries will create a more informed and empowered society.
The question is not whether Pakistan has talent—it does. The question is whether we have the foresight to use it. If we continue to waste our brightest minds, we condemn ourselves to stagnation. If we unleash them, we ignite a transformation that is intellectual, silent, and lasting. Nations are not built only by steel and cement. They are built by ideas. Pakistan has the thinkers. What it needs is the courage to let them lead.
