Afghan Medical Students Caught in Pakistan's Political Crossfire

'Not dolls to play with': The Human Cost of Policy Overreach

When Alishba*, a medical student from Afghanistan, was notified of her university's expulsion order on September 8, she didn't believe it. The message came in the middle of a night shift at Lahore's hospital, and her first instinct was disbelief.

“We are not dolls for them to play with,” she told Al Jazeera, speaking on condition of anonymity. “This is our life.”

What had started as a carefully managed academic program—funded by Pakistan's Higher Education Commission (HEC) and supported by the Pakistani embassy in Kabul—had now been abruptly derailed by an obscure regulatory directive issued by the Pakistan Medical and Dental Council (PMDC).

“We were legally admitted, funded, and given visas every year. We had no intention of staying past our studies,” Zainab*, another medical student, said. “This is not about immigration. This is about education.”

The directive, issued on September 1, barred all Afghan students currently enrolled in Pakistani medical or dental colleges from continuing their studies. More than 200 Afghan students—nearly a third of those in the country's medical schools—are now affected. Their academic futures have been suspended without warning, often with as little as 24 hours to prepare for departure.

The Regulatory Vacuum

According to PMDC, only 22 of the Afghan students currently enrolled are officially registered with the council. But most came through the HEC scholarship program, a process that was entirely managed by Pakistan's government agencies, not the students themselves.

The confusion began years ago, when the PMDC was dissolved in 2019 and replaced by the Pakistan Medical Commission (PMC), only to be reinstated in 2022 by the Islamabad High Court. The legal shift left a backlog of students from that period in limbo, including many Afghan nationals admitted during the transition.

Students like Rizwan*, who's nearing graduation in Rawalpindi, say the responsibility for registration was always on their universities—not them. “We were registered with UHS and HEC,” he explained. “But we are not registered with PMDC. Our registration is pending due to PMDC not approving it.”

This regulatory delay has now become a fatal flaw in policy implementation, with the PMDC's directive serving as the final nail in the coffin for thousands of students.

Why This Matters More Than Just Numbers

The situation is particularly dire for women like Alishba and Zainab. The Taliban's ban on female education in Afghanistan meant these students had already faced a major disruption to their academic journey—being forced to flee one university, only to start over in another country.

Now, they are being told that the very degrees they have worked so hard to complete will not count, and their futures are being determined by an administrative oversight. “We're not immigrants,” Zainab said. “We were legally invited here. We're not illegal.”

This policy, while politically motivated, has no place in a system that claims to value education and human capital.

The Bigger Picture: Politics and Professions

Pakistan's decision to expel Afghan students comes amid deteriorating relations with the Taliban-led government in Kabul. The country has launched a broad repatriation initiative targeting undocumented Afghans, following a string of suicide bombings attributed to Afghan nationals.

But as humanitarian groups and former ambassadors have pointed out, this expulsion is not just about security—it's about people. Human Rights Watch called the decision “shockingly short-sighted and cruel,” adding that it could severely harm Afghanistan's healthcare system at a time when it is already struggling with maternal mortality and limited access to trained professionals.

Former Pakistani ambassadors Mansoor Ahmad Khan and Asif Durrani both expressed concern. Khan urged PMDC to reconsider the decision on humanitarian grounds, while Durrani wrote, “Expelling these students... is not just an administrative matter. It is a question of humanity.”

The Emotional Toll

For students like Alishba, it's personal. Her mother dreamed of seeing her in scrubs, treating women in Afghanistan who otherwise have no access to healthcare. That dream has now been jeopardized by bureaucratic inefficiencies and political decisions.

“I feel like a doll being played with between the political issues of two countries,” she said. “I've done nothing wrong. If you brought us here and gave us seats, let us finish our degrees.”

The ripple effects extend beyond individual students. As Siddiq Shariati, president of the Afghan Student Union at International Islamic University Islamabad, warned, if PMDC's order extends to all disciplines, it could force thousands more Afghans to leave Pakistan—despite having been admitted legally and supported by state funding.

What Comes Next?

While the Pakistani Foreign Ministry has stated that students with valid visas and enrolled in degree programs should be allowed to stay and complete their education, many students say they are already being treated as though they have been expelled.

The question now is whether this policy will be revised. For now, thousands of Afghan medical students remain in limbo—waiting for a decision that may never come, or worse, a final eviction notice with no warning at all.

What we know is this: These students are not just statistics. They are the next generation of healthcare workers in a country facing deep humanitarian crisis. To cut them off now is to cut off hope, and perhaps even the future of millions of Afghan women and girls who depend on their care.