Seven Years On, Tribal Hopes Still Unmet

Dr Ikramullah Khan

Bajaur: When the government announced the merger of the former Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) with Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in 2018, the people across the tribal belt celebrated with hope. It felt like the dawn of a new era—an end to decades of neglect and exclusion.

The promises were powerful: equality, justice, and development. Yet seven years later, sitting in Bajaur, one cannot help but wonder if anything has truly changed. The slogans still sound inspiring, but life here remains much the same—perhaps even more complicated.

Before the merger, the region was governed under the draconian Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR), a colonial-era system that denied citizens access to the national judiciary and basic rights. It was deeply unjust, and the people longed for its abolition.

However, many now quietly say that at least under the FCR, the local jirga system worked—disputes were resolved swiftly, and community elders had influence. Today, with cases taking years to conclude in the formal judicial system, frustration is growing.

A few even whisper that the old system, despite its flaws, was more practical. This sentiment, though limited for now, reflects a dangerous disillusionment that could grow if the status quo persists.

The new administrative setup that replaced the old one has not lived up to expectations. Most government departments remain under-equipped or understaffed. Citizens still travel long distances for a single court hearing or to process a routine legal document.

According to official data, only about 35 percent of development projects announced for the merged districts have been completed; the rest are either pending or shelved.

The Rs. 100 billion annual development package promised by the federal government has been only partially released in recent years. Meanwhile, poverty remains endemic—nearly 70 percent of people in the merged districts live below the poverty line.

Take Bajaur, for instance. The district’s 2023 profile reveals an estimated population of 1.287 million spread over 1,290 square kilometers, making it one of the most densely populated districts in the province, with 846 persons per square kilometer.

Despite having eight tehsils and 127 village and neighborhood councils, Bajaur still lacks a single recognized urban settlement. The literacy rate stands at just 29 percent—52 percent for men and a mere 10 percent for women.

Nearly half of all households lack electricity, and only 28 percent have access to piped water. Agriculture remains the backbone of the local economy, yet most farmland is rain-fed; only 17,000 hectares out of 77,700 are irrigated.

These figures illustrate the depth of the region’s developmental deficit. Education and health—two sectors that define human progress—remain particularly neglected. UNICEF estimates that literacy across the merged districts is still below 35 percent, compared to the national average of over 60 percent.

In Bajaur, several girls’ schools are either closed or non-functional due to a shortage of teachers and infrastructure. The health sector fares no better. Many Basic Health Units operate without doctors, medicines, or even electricity. In remote areas, citizens still rely on traditional healers or must travel miles for even minor treatments.

This absence of effective governance has left citizens confused and disillusioned. They are told that they now enjoy constitutional rights, but there is no clear mechanism to exercise them. The police system is still finding its footing—many stations exist in name only, lacking manpower, training, or equipment.

The courts, though formally extended to the merged areas, face crippling backlogs, with cases dragging on for years. For those who once believed the merger would bring swift justice, the delay feels like betrayal.

Security, too, has deteriorated. In recent months, attacks on security personnel and local elders have once again increased. Many residents feel unsafe in their own villages.

The traditional structures that once maintained local order—the jirgas and tribal committees—have lost their authority, while state institutions are too weak to fill the void. This governance vacuum has allowed fear and uncertainty to take root once again.

Economic opportunities, which were expected to follow the merger, have largely failed to materialize. The promise of investment, industries, and employment has remained unfulfilled. In Bajaur, for instance, there is still no proper industrial estate.

Only small-scale operations—such as marble units, ice plants, and chip factories—exist, providing minimal employment. Development schemes are routinely announced but rarely completed. Roads, schools, and water supply projects often stop midway due to lack of funds or administrative neglect.

People have lost faith in the process. Under the FCR, at least the system, however unjust, was predictable. Now they find themselves caught between two worlds: a modern structure that doesn’t function and a traditional one that has vanished.

The first local body elections after the merger brought a flicker of hope, but elected representatives were given neither authority nor resources. Without empowered local governance, democracy at the grassroots remains a dream deferred.

Women—the silent half of the population—have suffered the most. They remain largely absent from public life, not by choice but due to systemic exclusion. Without education and healthcare, their voices are stifled. Even when appointed, many female teachers refuse postings in remote areas because of security concerns.

Despite these challenges, the people of Bajaur and other merged districts have not lost hope entirely. They are resilient—having endured war, displacement, and poverty with dignity. What they demand now is not charity but justice—the right to equality guaranteed by the Constitution. Article 25 declares that all citizens are equal before the law, yet in the tribal belt, equality remains an unfinished story.

The merger was meant to bring the tribal people closer to the state. Instead, it has left many feeling abandoned once again. Unless the government acts decisively—by completing promised projects, reforming the justice system, and empowering local governance—the promise of the merger will remain hollow.

The people of Bajaur and the other merged districts deserve more than speeches. They deserve dignity, opportunity, and justice—the very rights that were promised seven years ago but remain elusive. To move forward, policymakers must prioritize the implementation of merger reforms in both letter and spirit.

The region urgently needs investment in education, healthcare, and justice infrastructure. Special attention must be paid to girls’ education, youth employment, and local governance. Most importantly, there must be a clear mechanism to deliver the constitutional rights promised under the 25th Amendment—so that the people of the former tribal areas can finally feel like equal citizens of Pakistan.

The writer is a government servant in KP’s Tribal Region, serving in a capacity that likely involves administration or governance within the region.

The article is the writer’s opinion, it may or may not adhere to the organization’s editorial policy.

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