When Repatriation Means More Than Returning Home

For more than four decades, Pakistan has been home to generations of Afghans who fled war and instability. Balochistan has been central to this story. Its proximity to Afghanistan has made it both a destination for refugees and an important space for cross-border movement. Today, that long history is changing. Pakistan’s repatriation policy has accelerated the return of Afghans. The government has legitimate concerns about border management, undocumented migration, security, and the pressure on public services. These concerns cannot simply be dismissed.

But repatriation is also about people. As of July 2026, UNHCR reported that more than 1.4 million Afghan refugees and other Afghans in need of international protection remained in Pakistan. It also recorded more than 1 million returns from Pakistan during 2025 alone. Behind these numbers are families whose lives have been shaped in Pakistan for decades.

I saw this reality during my own field research in 2024, when I conducted interviews with Afghan refugees in Hazara Town, Quetta, as part of my research on the psychosocial implications of Pakistan’s repatriation policy. The interviews showed that the issue was not simply whether refugees wanted to return. It was about what returning would mean for their safety, livelihood, family, and future. One PoR cardholder, who was born and raised in Pakistan, expressed strong reluctance to return. He spoke about the lack of housing, limited employment, inadequate medical care, and uncertainty in Afghanistan. For him, returning was not simply going back to a country. It meant leaving behind the place where his life had been built. Another participant described the uncertainty in painful terms: “Every day we hear rumors... It’s like we are waiting for authorities to come to our door and tell us to leave, either forcefully or voluntarily.”

This uncertainty has a psychosocial cost. Living without knowing whether one will be allowed to stay can create constant anxiety. Expired documentation can also affect employment and mobility. Participants reported difficulties with PoR cards and harassment at checkpoints. Some described being asked for money to resolve documentation problems. Women face additional pressures. During my interviews, a female participant described the trauma of leaving Afghanistan after a fire linked to the Taliban destroyed her home. The possibility of returning revived memories of fear. Concerns about life under Taliban rule and discrimination added to her anxiety. Another woman explained that her lack of documentation restricted her movement within Quetta.

The effects also reach children. One female participant explained that her expired PoR card and lack of CNIC prevented her daughter from enrolling in school. The child instead attended a Farsi madrasa. Another nine-year-old boy from a family without proper documentation had access only to religious education. These experiences show why repatriation cannot be measured only by the number of people crossing the border. At the same time, Pakistan’s position cannot be ignored. Pakistan has hosted Afghans for decades while managing its own economic, security, and administrative challenges. In March 2025, the government announced the resumption of its Illegal Foreigners Repatriation Plan, including Afghan Citizenship Card holders.

The policy has since produced large-scale returns. UNHCR reported that 370,100 Afghans returned from Pakistan between January and May 2026, including 155,000 deportations. The question, therefore, is not whether Pakistan has the right to manage its borders. It does. The question is how that process is carried out.

A responsible repatriation policy needs clear procedures, documentation, sufficient time, and protection for vulnerable families. It should also distinguish between undocumented migrants, asylum-seekers, and registered refugees. UNHCR has repeatedly called for Afghans with international protection needs to be protected from involuntary return.

Afghanistan also faces a difficult task. Returning families need housing, employment, healthcare, education, and security. Otherwise, repatriation can simply move vulnerability from one side of the border to the other. My research in Hazara Town made one point particularly clear: home is not always defined by a border. For some refugees, Afghanistan remains their homeland and they want to return one day. But they want to return when conditions allow them to live with dignity. For others, Pakistan has become the only home they have known. A balanced policy must recognise both realities.

Repatriation can be part of a sustainable solution. But a successful return should not be measured only by how many people leave Pakistan. It should also be measured by whether those who return can live safely, rebuild their livelihoods, keep their families together, and imagine a future. That is where repatriation becomes more than a policy. It becomes a question of human security.