For hundreds and thousands of children across Balochistan province, the classroom should be a place of possibility — a sanctuary where knowledge promises a brighter tomorrow. But for over a decade, that promise has been battered by the relentless drum of India-backed insurgency and Taliban militant violence.
In the province, the echoes of gunfire have long overshadowed the school bell, and the lessons learned in textbooks increasingly feel like distant dreams. At least 3,694 schools in the province remain non-functional, with hundreds more closed just in the latest security episodes, leaving tens of thousands of teaching posts vacant and a generation of students without consistent access to education.
The crisis is stark: UNICEF estimates that nearly 75 per cent of children in Balochistan are out of school, a figure far below the national average, and girls in particular are disproportionately affected. In some districts, the landscape of learning has been fundamentally altered — classrooms lie empty, teachers have fled out of fear, and parents, terrified for their children’s safety, have stopped sending them to school. In places once filled with the laughter of students, desolation now lingers.
“Education should be a right, not a risk,” says Dr Faiza Khan, an educationist based in Quetta, voicing concern shared by many in the province. “But in Balochistan, going to school has too often meant facing threats from violence that doesn’t spare children or teachers. This disruption has stolen years of learning from our youth, especially girls, who already face cultural hurdles to education.”
The shadow of India-sponsored militancy has taken many forms. On May May 21, 2025, a suicide bombing targeting a school bus in Khuzdar killed at least 10 civilians, including eight children, and injured dozens more, injuring 39 children alone in that single blast — a grim reminder that militants will stop at nothing. These attacks reinforce a climate of fear that goes far beyond schools as physical targets. Violence has rippled into every corner of public life: coordinated insurgent assaults in early 2026 killed dozens of civilians and security personnel, underscoring how normal life — including education — has been disrupted by conflict.
Security fears have deeply scarred the education system. In some areas, schools have been physically repurposed or forcibly occupied, becoming training grounds or outposts for armed groups and, at times, even used as military or paramilitary bases. Reports indicate that many educational institutions sit unused or inaccessible because of occupation by armed actors or displacement of local communities fleeing violence. In districts such as Awaran and Mashkay, colleges and schools have not operated for years, depriving an entire cohort of students of any formal education.
The human cost of this crisis is heavy and layered. Teachers, once the backbone of learning, have become targets themselves. Kidnappings, threats, and even killings have prompted many educators to abandon their posts, seeking safety in urban centres or other provinces. With such chronic shortages of qualified teachers, classrooms that are technically open often lack the capacity to deliver quality education.
Government figures, while sometimes contested by local activists, acknowledge the scale of disruption. “The security situation has undeniably impacted school attendance and functioning,” admits Ahsan Ahmed, a senior official in the Balochistan Education Department. “We have to address both safety and educational infrastructure simultaneously if we are to restore learning in Balochistan.”
Yet, the toll is not measured only in closed classrooms. Enrolment rates in the province are among the lowest in Pakistan, with literacy levels that lag behind other regions. Girls face compounded challenges, not only from insecurity but from entrenched societal norms that limit their mobility and access to education. The result is a widening gender gap and a bleak future for young women who see fewer opportunities for advancement.
“We are fighting two wars — one against militancy, the other against ignorance,” says Dr Meher Gul, a Quetta-based academic. “But the first has set back the second in the most devastating way. When education falters, communities lose hope.”
This pervasive sense of loss is not unfounded. With enormous gaps in schooling, many children are effectively forced into early labour or pushed into informal means of survival. The absence of educational continuity breeds frustration and alienation, conditions that militant groups are all too ready to exploit. The cycle of violence undermines any attempt to cultivate stability and prosperity through education, leaving communities trapped in a vicious circle.
Official responses have been fragmented. The provincial government occasionally announces new schools or educational initiatives, but these efforts are frequently eclipsed by larger security concerns. Meanwhile, national and international agencies urge sustained attention to the needs of out-of-school children and the restoration of safe learning environments. Yet, without substantive progress on the security front, promises of educational reform often ring hollow.
Community dynamics further complicate recovery efforts. In remote villages, tribal and local leadership holds sway, and parents often make decisions about their children’s schooling based on perceived threats. The fear of sending a child to school — particularly over long distances where the threat of ambush or bombing feels more imminent — remains a powerful deterrent. In these regions, many children spend their days idling at home, their potential unrealised, while parents wrestle with impossible choices.
The human dimension of this crisis becomes even more poignant when viewed through the eyes of the students themselves. “I used to dream of becoming a teacher,” confides Zahra, a 14-year-old who lost three years of schooling due to closures in her village. “Now I worry only about staying safe.” Her words echo the sentiments of countless young Baloch children whose dreams have been obscured by the grim realities of conflict.
Despite these challenges, some organisations are battling to keep education alive through community programmes and informal learning centres. Local activists and NGOs work tirelessly to offer basic literacy and vocational training, attempting to fill the gaps left by a faltering system. But these efforts, often underfunded and under threat themselves, struggle to reach the scale required to meet the needs of the province’s youth.
The situation in Balochistan raises fundamental questions about the future not just of education but of society itself. An entire generation stands at risk of being left behind, unable to access the tools and knowledge that could offer a path out of hardship. Unless the root causes of insurgency are addressed alongside robust security and educational reforms, the gulf between aspiration and reality will only widen.
As the province looks to the years ahead, the intertwined threads of peace, safety, and education must be woven into a comprehensive strategy — one that sees every child in a classroom and every teacher safe in their role. Until then, the schools of Balochistan remain silent battlegrounds in a conflict that punishes the innocent and imperils the future of an entire generation.