MOHAMMAD HANIF KHAN
Skill development has become the most overused phrase in policy speeches across Kashmir. Every government sells it as a cure-all—for unemployment, alienation, even social unrest. Youth are promised transformation into entrepreneurs and job creators. The rhetoric is polished. The results are not.
Kashmir has one of the most educated youth populations in the region, yet unemployment among degree holders remains stubbornly high. Years of education continue to end in frustration. Skill development schemes were supposed to bridge this gap. Instead, they have largely become an exercise in optics.
Most programs chase visibility, not outcomes. Targets are announced with fanfare—train ten thousand youth, skill five thousand more—but meaningful data rarely follows. Enrollment figures flood press releases. Employment numbers, when mentioned at all, are vague and unverifiable. For many participants, the journey ends with a certificate that carries little value in the job market.
The problem begins with poor course design. Training modules are often generic and disconnected from real demand. Basic computer skills, retail sales, and soft-skill courses are repeated endlessly, while local industries fail to absorb the trained workforce. Sectors with real potential—renewable energy, logistics, modern agriculture, advanced IT—remain largely ignored.
Industry participation is minimal. Effective skill development requires employers at the table from day one. In Kashmir, most schemes remain government-driven, with weak private-sector engagement. Employers complain that trainees lack practical skills. Youth complain that government certificates do not translate into jobs. The result is mutual distrust and wasted effort.
Training quality is another weak link. Many centers function with outdated equipment and overstretched resources. Trainers are often underpaid, hired on short-term contracts, and given little incentive to innovate. Curricula evolve slowly, while monitoring is reduced to paperwork. When quality suffers, training becomes a ritual, not a route to employment.
Politics further erodes credibility. Scheme launches often align neatly with election cycles or high-profile visits. Banners appear, workshops are organized, cameras roll. Once the spotlight fades, so does momentum. Young people notice. Cynicism grows, participation drops, and faith in institutions weakens.
Rural youth are hit hardest. Training centers cluster in Srinagar and Jammu, making access costly and impractical. Online alternatives assume stable internet connectivity—still a luxury in many areas. Those who most need opportunities remain the most excluded.
Women face even deeper barriers. Social restrictions, safety concerns, and household responsibilities limit participation. Most programs fail to offer childcare support or flexible schedules. Without addressing these realities, women-centric schemes remain symbolic gestures rather than genuine interventions.
Transparency is conspicuously absent. Public dashboards tracking placements, income levels, or job retention are rare. Independent audits are almost nonexistent. Without data, failure remains invisible—and uncorrected.
There are exceptions. Initiatives linked to handicrafts, tourism, and niche IT services have delivered better outcomes. Their success lies in aligning training with local strengths, offering longer engagement, mentorship, and some form of placement support. These programs prove that skill development can work—when done seriously. Unfortunately, they remain limited in scale.
Real reform requires a shift in approach. Skill programs must be designed around labour market realities, not political announcements. Success should be measured by jobs created and incomes earned, not by certificates distributed. Private-sector participation must deepen through apprenticeships and hiring incentives. Quality infrastructure, stable trainers, and regularly updated curricula are non-negotiable. Access for rural youth and women must be built into program design, not added as an afterthought. Above all, youth policy must be depoliticized.
Kashmir’s youth are not asking for grand slogans or staged launches. They are asking for fair opportunity, honest policy, and measurable results. Skill development is not a slogan. It is a long-term investment—and it will only work when governance shifts from optics to outcomes.
