Every passport carries a story. Some speak of mobility and privilege, others of borders and bureaucracy. Pakistan’s passport, ranked 103rd in the world on the 2025 Henley Passport Index, tells a story of constraint. With visa-free or visa-on-arrival access to just 31 destinations, it stands among the weakest globally, ahead of only Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan. The ranking has remained largely unchanged for five years, reflecting deep structural issues rather than diplomatic neglect. The weakness of a nation’s passport is rarely about paperwork alone. It reflects the sum of its governance, economy, and reputation in the international order.
The decline of passport strength has coincided with the rise of what can be described as migration citizenship. For many Pakistanis, citizenship has become less a matter of identity and more a strategy for survival and opportunity. Migration, whether for education, work, or residence, has become a defining aspiration for the middle class. In 2024, approximately 727,381 Pakistanis migrated abroad for employment, a 15 percent decrease from 862,625 in 2023, yet still among the highest numbers in Asia. The trend reveals how emigration remains deeply tied to domestic stagnation. Even as outward migration continues, remittances have surged to record levels, reaching $38.3 billion in 2024–25, a 27 percent increase from the previous year. These inflows are now equivalent to almost nine percent of GDP, providing critical support to an economy struggling with inflation and foreign exchange shortages.
The passport, after all, is not merely a document. It is a reflection of how the world sees a nation and how that nation sees itself. The wars over mobility, citizenship, and belonging are not fought in embassies or airports but in the deeper terrain of governance and opportunity. For Pakistan, winning this quiet war will require rebuilding confidence from within so that one day, the right to travel, work, and belong is not purchased abroad, but earned at home
Behind these statistics lies a complex tension between aspiration and abandonment. Pakistan’s youth, facing one of the highest unemployment rates in South Asia, often see leaving the country as their only form of social mobility. Universities and recruitment agencies alike have become conduits of global outflow, marketing foreign placements as the path to success. For those who can afford it, dual citizenship, second passports, and residency-by-investment programs offer new forms of insurance against instability. For those who cannot, irregular migration and risky routes through Europe or the Gulf have become increasingly common. Citizenship, once a marker of belonging, is now a tradable asset in a global market of opportunity.
The Pakistani passport’s weakness also stems from diplomatic and policy inertia. While the government has signed bilateral agreements with countries such as Qatar, Malaysia, and Saudi Arabia to expand labour migration, it has not developed a corresponding framework for mobility of skilled professionals. The result is an economy that exports labour but not expertise. The absence of strong educational exchange programs or visa-free regimes for professionals limits the ability of Pakistanis to participate in the global knowledge economy. This imbalance contributes to brain drain rather than brain circulation, reinforcing dependency on remittances rather than innovation.
Historically, the strength of a passport has been linked to the perceived reliability of a state. Nations that maintain political stability, low corruption, and strong institutional governance tend to command greater international trust. In Pakistan’s case, periodic political crises, security concerns, and inconsistent foreign policy have weakened its global standing. The passport becomes a symbol of how the world perceives state capacity. This perception is reinforced by limited consular protection abroad and frequent reports of exploitation among migrant workers, particularly in the Gulf states. When a nation cannot protect its citizens overseas, its passport loses both symbolic and practical value.
Yet the issue is not one of rank alone. The deeper problem lies in how mobility has become a measure of dignity. The desire for a stronger passport reflects a broader frustration with governance. Economic volatility, administrative delays, and limited access to justice all contribute to the sense that opportunity must be sought elsewhere. The passport’s colour may not change, but its meaning does. It becomes a reminder of limits, of borders that extend beyond geography into the imagination of a people who feel trapped within them.
Reforming this dynamic requires more than diplomacy. Strengthening Pakistan’s passport demands a coherent migration and foreign policy that aligns labour mobility with education, trade, and technology. Investment in skills training and recognition frameworks can help negotiate better terms for overseas employment, while expanding bilateral agreements beyond low-skilled labour would elevate Pakistan’s role in the global market. The state must also address the domestic conditions that push people to leave. Without economic security, reliable governance, and educational opportunity, mobility will remain an escape rather than an exchange.
Comparatively, nations that have improved their passport rankings such as Indonesia and Vietnam did so through sustained economic growth, regional cooperation, and improved governance. Both countries invested in visa reciprocity, digital consular services, and international education partnerships. Pakistan’s efforts, while visible in recent years, remain limited to short-term initiatives. A more deliberate policy linking education and migration could transform this outflow into an asset. Programmes that encourage returning professionals, incentivise diaspora investment, and streamline recognition of foreign qualifications could turn migration into a source of renewal rather than depletion.
At the cultural level, the conversation about mobility must also shift. Migration should not be seen as a failure of patriotism or a measure of despair, but neither should it be a substitute for reform. The goal of development should be to make staying as viable as leaving. A strong passport, in this sense, is not an outcome of diplomatic negotiation alone but of domestic credibility. When states invest in stability, transparency, and education, mobility follows naturally. Until then, Pakistan’s citizens will continue to seek other flags for the freedom of movement their own cannot yet provide.
The passport, after all, is not merely a document. It is a reflection of how the world sees a nation and how that nation sees itself. The wars over mobility, citizenship, and belonging are not fought in embassies or airports but in the deeper terrain of governance and opportunity. For Pakistan, winning this quiet war will require rebuilding confidence from within so that one day, the right to travel, work, and belong is not purchased abroad, but earned at home.
