Pakistan today is one of the most unforgiving places for a child to be born. This is not a claim made lightly, nor is it a rhetorical flourish. It is a reality documented by UNICEF, the International Labour Organisation, and countless child rights platforms. The numbers are stark, the stories are haunting, and the silence around them is incomprehensible.
UNICEF reports that nearly 58 children out of every 1,000 born in Pakistan die before reaching the age of five. Most of these deaths are preventable, caused by diarrhoea, pneumonia, and other treatable conditions. Malnutrition remains a contributing killer. Almost 40 percent of children under five are stunted, their growth and minds permanently scarred. This figure places Pakistan among the worst in South Asia. When a child’s body is denied nourishment, the nation’s future is denied imagination. The tragedy is not only in the loss of life but in the loss of potential. Yet, the silence around these deaths is deafening. We have learned to live with the loss of children as if it were routine, as if their absence were not a national concern.
Education is no less grim. According to UNICEF and Pakistan Education Statistics, more than 22 million children are out of school. These do not include most of the children on the move: refugees, migrants, internally displaced communities, and children who never made it to birth registration vis-à-vis the national statistical radar. This is one of the highest numbers in the world. Girls, rural children, and those in conflict-affected areas are disproportionately excluded. Even those who sit in classrooms often fail to acquire basic literacy and numeracy. The World Bank has noted that learning poverty in Pakistan is among the highest globally. A child who cannot read a simple sentence by age ten is not just deprived of knowledge, but of dignity.
Education is supposed to be the ladder out of poverty, yet for millions here, the ladder is broken before they even touch it. The classroom, which should be a sanctuary of hope, becomes a reminder of exclusion. Whilst exclusion becomes normal, millions of children are denied even the chance to learn; the very idea of citizenship is hollowed out. We speak of demographic dividends, but what dividend can there be when the majority of our children are denied the tools to participate in society?
The neglect is unforgivable. The misery is undeniable. The silence is criminal. That is an incomprehensible choice, and it is a choice we continue to make every day we look away
Child labour continues to thrive in every corner of our economy. The International Labour Organization estimates that millions of children in Pakistan are engaged in hazardous labour, from brick kilns to leather tanneries to domestic work. Weak enforcement of child protection laws allows exploitation to flourish unchecked. These children are robbed of their childhood, their voices silenced in the very spaces where their rights are violated. The cruelty is not only in the work itself but in the indifference that surrounds it. And yet, we continue to walk past them in markets, in workshops, in homes, pretending not to see. Their labour is woven into the fabric of our daily lives, and our silence is the thread that keeps it intact. A society that normalises child labour is a society that has forgotten its own humanity.
Violence and abuse compound the misery. Reports of sexual violence, corporal punishment, and trafficking remain widespread. Child protection systems are underfunded and inaccessible, leaving survivors without recourse. The cruelty is not only in the act but in the collective refusal to confront it. Silence and stigma bury trauma deeper, ensuring cycles of abuse continue. UNICEF has repeatedly warned that without investment in protection services, children will remain invisible victims. The phrase “out of sight, out of mind” becomes a haunting reality when applied to abused children. When abuse is normalised, when violence against children is tolerated in homes, schools, and workplaces, it is not only the child who suffers. It is the moral fabric of society that is torn apart.
Climate change has added another layer of invisibility. The floods of 2022 displaced millions, with children bearing the brunt of lost schooling, healthcare, and protection. UNICEF has warned that Pakistan’s climate vulnerability is directly a child rights catastrophe. Displaced children are rendered invisible in policy; their futures washed away with the waters. When the climate crisis strikes, it does not strike evenly. It strikes hardest at those already most vulnerable. Yet, the climate policy in Pakistan rarely speaks of children. They are not at the table when decisions are made, and their voices are absent from the debates that shape their futures.
Taken together, these five realities form a portrait of misery that is difficult to comprehend. Survival, education, labour, violence, and climate displacement; each is a crisis on its own. Together, they create a landscape where childhood itself is under siege. Pakistan is not failing its children in one area; it is failing them across the board. The children thus remain the canary in the coal mine. Their suffering is the early warning of a society in collapse. When children die from preventable diseases, when they are denied schooling, when they are forced into labour, when they are abused without recourse, when they are displaced by floods, it is not just their future that is lost. It is the nation’s conscience that is eroded.
This is not about assigning blame to one institution or another. It is about recognising that the state, society, and all of us have looked away. We have normalised misery. We have accepted silence. We have allowed neglect to become routine. The question is not who is responsible. The question is, what worse are we waiting for? Another flood. Another child abuse directory. Another generation lost.
International Children’s Day is meant to be a celebration of rights, a reminder that every child deserves survival, protection, and participation. Yet in Pakistan, it becomes a day of mourning. The theme this year, “My Day, My Rights,” is a call to listen to children’s voices. But how can we listen when we have not even ensured their survival? How can we celebrate rights when we have denied them the basics of life?
The neglect is unforgivable. The misery is undeniable. The silence is criminal. That is an incomprehensible choice, and it is a choice we continue to make every day we look away.