Lessons from Bandung

On April 26-27, under the leadership of Dr Masuma Hasan, the Pakistan Institute of International Affairs (PIIA) organised a rare and much-needed international conference in Karachi.

The occasion marked the 70th anniversary of the historic Bandung Conference, the pivotal 1955 meeting where newly independent Asian and African nations came together to forge solidarity, unity, and hope in the post-colonial world. The theme of the gathering was ‘Seventy Years After Bandung: The Struggle Continues’. Credit must also be given to the government of Sindh, whose support enabled the institute to organise the conference.

International experts, academics like me, ambassadors and parliamentarians assembled to address urgent issues reshaping our world: the changing political order, genocide, war, climate change, human rights and the growing global water crisis. The conference buzzed with energy, with full attendance across multiple parallel sessions, an inspiring sight in a country where the public appetite for academic discussion is often underestimated.

What struck me most, however, was the presence of so many young researchers and students. They came with notebooks, questions, and dreams, their faces bright with curiosity and ambition. Their attendance was a powerful, silent act of defiance in a nation where the education and research sectors are gasping for survival.

Make no mistake: the academic world in Pakistan is under siege. There are few opportunities for serious research, little to no institutional support, and fragile academic freedom. Public-sector universities, the supposed guardians of knowledge, are unable to pay their teaching staff for six to twelve months at a time. It is no secret that salaries have been withheld; it is a reality that is widely known yet shamefully accepted. How are these educators expected to pay their bills, support their families, or continue their work under such conditions? In no civilised country would educators go unpaid for half a year or more. This is not merely a financial failure; it is an assault on human dignity and a betrayal of the very principle that education matters.

In many rural areas of Pakistan, there are no schools at all; entire communities are left without even the basic foundations of education. The country is grappling with a severe education crisis, with more than 26 million children currently out of school, most of whom are in rural regions. This is a national tragedy unfolding before our eyes. It is long past time to declare an education emergency, not merely in words, but through bold, urgent action. Pakistan must not just recognise this crisis on paper; it must confront it with the full force of political will, resources, and national commitment

A Croatian history professor who joined the international delegation remarked during a discussion that the thriving state of public universities is seen as a reflection of national strength in Croatia. "If your public universities are flourishing”, he said, "your country is doing well." His words cut deep. They should serve as a wake-up call for us: a nation that neglects its thinkers, teachers and students is squandering its future.

The conference itself, however, was a rare and beautiful sight for Pakistan. It demonstrated the soft power we so desperately need to cultivate. Events like this are investments in our country's image, countering the tired stereotypes that Pakistan is only about military strength or nuclear capability. Through such gatherings, we show the world that we possess intellectual capital, that international scholars still make their way to Karachi, that ideas still matter here.

The original Bandung Conference of 1955 was born from a different but equally turbulent era. It was a bold assertion by Asian and African nations that they would not remain pawns in the cold war. It was a declaration of unity, solidarity and a refusal to be forgotten. Today, the lessons of Bandung are more urgent than ever for the Global South. We must invest in human development, and above all, in education, if we are to empower the next generation to be the change-makers the world so desperately needs.

During one panel discussion, a Pakistani economist sorrowfully observed that "the Bandung spirit is dead." I beg to differ. It is not dead, it is struggling, yes, but it can be revived. It lives wherever people fight inequality, poverty, war, and climate breakdown.

It breathes through every young mind that dares to dream of a better future despite the obstacles.

The Bandung spirit reminds us that solidarity is not a relic of the past. It is a living idea, calling on us to build bridges across borders and generations. But it demands courage, progressive thinking, and an unwavering commitment to justice.

We must not let that spirit die, not in our classrooms, not in our universities, and certainly not in our hearts.

The writer is an environmentalist and a professor of environmental law.