For the last 15 years, I have served as a faculty member in a public-sector university. In that time, I have seen moments of true academic brilliance: students rising above systemic limitations, faculty creating opportunities out of nothing, and colleagues persisting with integrity despite institutional indifference. I have also witnessed the slow erosion of substance beneath the façade of progress, which is a painful reality.
Every few months, new initiatives are announced with fanfare. Grand plaques are unveiled for new ‘centres’, ‘institutes’ or ‘directorates’ that promise innovation and excellence.
Once the ceremonies are over, the spaces often remain hollow — rooms with shiny nameplates, but no staff, no equipment, and no clear academic mission. Budgets flow easily for construction, but when it comes to research funding, faculty development, or even timely salaries and pensions, the purse strings tighten.
This misplaced priority is reinforced by the way administrative decisions are made. I have seen capable colleagues passed over for leadership roles because they questioned irregularities, while others with less competence but stronger ‘connections’ get elevated.
Committees are formed with great enthusiasm, only to dissolve quietly when their findings become inconvenient. This culture does not merely demotivate individuals, it slowly institutionalises mediocrity.
The latest obsession on campuses is to attach the label of artificial intelligence (AI) to almost anything. Overnight, traditional programmes are being renamed or merged to include AI in their titles.
Departments that once offered conventional degrees are rebranded as if they have suddenly entered the technological frontier.
But behind these new names, little actually changes. The same faculty members teach the same outdated syllabi, often without any additional training, equipment, or even a basic understanding of AI. Specialised labs remain non-existent, and budgets are consumed in the name of technological advancement.
Underlying many of these problems is the rigid way curricula are controlled. Departments are rarely trusted to revise or update their syllabi to match the global pace. The centralised approach of the Higher Education Commission (HEC) leaves little room for innovation. By the time new curricula make their way through bureaucratic channels, they are already outdated.
Over the years, I have watched talented, highly qualified colleagues leave, some for opportunities abroad, others simply preferring quiet disengagement. Many of them had once arrived with fresh PhDs, research ideas, and the hope of making their contribution to national development.
But the system’s indifference wore them down. There are many individuals and departments achieving remarkable things despite the odds. These successes remind us of the potential that exists. However, undeniable fact is that all such stories broadly reflect personal effort, not institutional strength. That distinction is crucial. When we continue to prioritise appearances over substance and construction over curriculum, we keep producing new buildings with old problems.
MUHAMMAD AADIL SIDDIQUI
QUETTA
