Women make up nearly half of Pakistan’s population — 48.5 per cent — yet their contribution to the economy remains stifled by systemic barriers in education, healthcare and employment. The numbers tell a grim story. In the World Economic Forum’s 2025 Global Gender Gap Index, Pakistan sits at the very bottom, ranked 148th out of 148 countries, with only 56.7pc parity achieved. Even more troubling, this is the second consecutive year the score has fallen.
At a time when neighbours such as Bangladesh have made notable progress — standing at 24th place globally — Pakistan’s decline raises urgent questions. Why does a country with millions invested in gender-related projects continue to falter?
The issue is not simply lack of funding. Money flows in. International lenders and donors regularly announce loans, grants and programmes promising to empower women. They fund policy frameworks, launch codes of conduct, and hold conferences on women’s financial inclusion. These efforts create glossy reports and catchy slogans. Yet on the ground, women are still struggling to access schools, hospitals, courts and workplaces.
This contradiction exposes a deeper malaise: development by symbolism rather than substance. Many initiatives amount to well-packaged checklists for donors, not pathways to meaningful empowerment. It is easier to launch a new policy with fanfare than to ensure rural girls can attend school without fear of harassment or that working women have affordable childcare.
In a recent Dawn op-ed, Dr. Saeed Ahmed — former SBP chief economist — described much of this donor-driven programming as “token feminism”, arguing that projects too often serve consultants, bureaucrats and lenders rather than women themselves. His critique highlights an uncomfortable truth: external interventions risk becoming a theatre of empowerment, celebrated with photo-ops while leaving women’s lived realities unchanged. Whether one fully agrees with his position or not, it is a reminder that Pakistan cannot outsource gender justice to development partners.
Women’s economic empowerment cannot come through donor theatre. It requires domestic reforms rooted in our realities. First, education must be prioritised. Almost 12 million Pakistani girls remain out of school — a crisis far more urgent than drafting another gender action plan. Second, women’s health services need sustained investment; maternal mortality remains unacceptably high. Third, the legal system must deliver justice — from inheritance rights to protection against violence. Without these foundations, no loan or grant can deliver progress.
Equally important is creating a labour market that truly welcomes women. This means safe transport, workplace harassment protections that are actually enforced, and skill-building programmes tied to real industries rather than donor templates. Pakistan’s female labour force participation hovers at around 20pc — among the lowest in South Asia. Doubling this figure could unleash immense economic potential.
This is not to say that all external support is futile. Development assistance can be useful — but only if aligned with Pakistan’s own priorities and implemented with transparency. The problem arises when donor-funded programs become substitutes for state responsibility. When aid turns into an industry, women’s empowerment is reduced to a project line item, not a social transformation.
Real progress will come only when Pakistan chooses substance over symbolism. Women deserve more than ribbon-cutting ceremonies and donor jargon. They deserve education, healthcare, safety, legal rights and dignified work. These are not privileges; they are rights guaranteed by the Constitution.
If half the population is denied opportunity, Pakistan will continue to limp rather than stride forward. Gender equality is not charity, nor is it a box to be ticked in a development report. It is the foundation of a stronger, fairer, more prosperous Pakistan.
