A LITTLE while ago, I met a university graduate in Karachi whose story I found painfully familiar. He had done everything that modern Pakistani society tells its young people to do in order to be successful, but had remained unemployed and frustrated. In effect, he had remained largely invisible to the very system that claims to represent him. When I asked him how he viewed national politics, he paused for a moment before replying, almost apologetically: “They only remember us when they need numbers.” There was no anger in his voice, no dramatic complaint. It was simply a statement of fact. And, it captured in one sentence the experience of millions of young Pakistanis.
The national political system has increasingly been disconnected from the realities, expectations and aspirations of the largest demographic group in the country. With over 60 per cent of the population under the age of 30, young people should naturally be shaping national priorities, influencing policy, and participating meaningfully in decision-making. Instead, they exist mostly on the margins of power. Young Pakistanis vote. They debate. They organise, campaign and mobilise, particularly online. Yet, their participation rarely translates into real influence where decisions are made.
Today’s young Pakistanis grow up politically informed, but emotionally detached. They understand democratic jargon, like constitution, elections, re-presentation, but experience little demo-cratic substance in their everyday life.
Representation exists in form, but participation often remains symbolic. Political theorists describe this as a ‘representation gap’.
For Pakistani youth, this gap defines how politics is perceived: distant, un-responsive and largely self-serving. Social media has emerged as the primary outlet for this frustration. It is where corruption is questioned, injustices are highlighted, and accountability is demanded. In many ways, digital platforms have become an alternative political space, one that allows expression without permission. But, digital participation, however vibrant, cannot replace structural reforms. When a political system consistently fails to respond to economic distress, it loses moral authority, especially among those who have invested the most in its promises.
Policy responses aimed at youth inclusion have so far been largely cosmetic. Youth programmes are announced without continuity. Consultations are held without decision-making authority. Advisory councils are formed without real power.
These initiatives generate headlines, but not confidence. The What makes the current moment particularly significant is that youth frustration today is informed. Young Pakistanis are globally exposed, digitally connected, and politically conscious. They compare governance standards, accountability mechanisms, and civic freedoms beyond national borders. Their criticism is not rebellion; it is awareness. History repeatedly shows that societies do not decline when young people question authority; they decline when the authorities refuse to listen.
The young in Pakistan are not rejecting democracy itself; they are rejecting the hollow version of it in which participation ends at elections and governance remains inaccessible. They seek inclusion beyond slogans, accountability beyond rhetoric, and leadership rooted in principles rather than personalities. Pakistan has to recognise the young as permanent stakeholders in the nation’s future. It is time for the state to respond sincerely to the voices waiting outside the system.
GHULAM RASOOL
KARACHI
