By Sameer Hoth
Divided! Directionless! Stubborn! Social media trolling! Not academic. Unfamiliar with the concept of lobbying. Publicity stunt and too much obsessed with X. If one has to define the Baloch diaspora in a few words, this is their definition.
In a world where diaspora communities have become important players in shaping global perceptions, influencing foreign policy, and lobbying for human rights, the Baloch diaspora remains conspicuously ineffective. Despite grave and ongoing human rights abuses in Balochistan, they have failed to materialize their exile into meaningful advocacy or sustained international attention.
My first-hand encounters with this dysfunctional Baloch diaspora began during my time at SOAS, University of London. I attended several Baloch diaspora demonstrations in central London, locations strategically close to Western political world and media powerhouses. The protests were passionate, but formulaic: slogans, flags, banners, and a handful of photos posted on social media. And then… silence. Not a single article in a major western newspaper. No mentions in parliamentary debates. No meetings with policymakers. No sustained engagement with think tanks or rights bodies.
This is opposite to their Iranian cousins and other diaspora movements. The Uyghur and Iranian diaspora, though facing some of the most sophisticated surveillance and repression by the Chinese and Iranian states, have successfully lobbied parliaments across Europe and North America. Their leaders testify before UN bodies, collaborate with human rights organisations, and feature prominently in mainstream media. Similarly, the Iranian, Tibetan, Eritrean, Sri Lankan Tamil and Khalistani diasporas often smaller in number have developed working relationships with policymakers, continuously hold conferences in top universities, and influenced public discourse through persistent advocacy.
Even the Baloch diaspora has failed to convince Pakistan’s arch-rival, India, and its representatives in the West and the UN to openly speak about Balochistan as much as Pakistan does about Kashmir.
The Baloch diaspora has no clear strategy. It is consumed by infighting, factionalism, and personal rivalries. Conversations after diaspora events I attended would quickly devolve into personal attacks, accusations and heated rants about rival political groups. One London-based leader of a prominent Baloch party, when I asked what he had achieved in over two decades of exile, had no clear answer. Later, through a mutual friend, he admitted that “being constantly undermined” by others had left him politically paralyzed.
Diaspora politics, especially for stateless or persecuted groups requires more than slogans. It requires an understanding of lobbying, policy-making, research, and coalition-building. Yet few in the Baloch diaspora seem familiar with these concepts.
The obsession with X and other social media forums has become a substitute for real-world influence. Trolling, name-calling, sharing private and family pictures and calling critics “spies” is a common tactic used to shut down debate even when the criticism is constructive.
Meanwhile, some of the most important work on Balochistan is still being done inside the province itself. Journalists, academics, and rights activists often at great personal risk continue to gather data, speak out, and advocate for justice. Ironically, when these voices are invited to speak abroad, their visa applications are often rejected by Western embassies. I’ve spoken to a few frontline activists in Balochistan who were denied visas for conferences, panels, or academic exchanges visas that their Iranian or Afghan counterparts routinely receive. Some were only granted entry after intervention by some Baloch journalists or rights organisations. By comparison, I have rarely heard of Iranian activists facing visa refusals. In their case, it is usually Tehran that blocks travel, not foreign governments.
During my years in London, I engaged with members of other diasporas facing similar marginalisation such as Eritreans. Despite being few in number, they are methodical and disciplined. They built connections with universities, worked closely with NGOs, and presented structured briefings to government bodies. The Baloch diaspora, on the other hand, remains trapped in a cycle of personality clashes and political nihilism.
A senior Baloch politician, once leader of the opposition in the Balochistan Assembly and now largely withdrawn from formal politics, explained his disengagement bluntly: “It’s difficult to work with this mentality. I still have politics in my blood, but I can’t work with these people.”
The diaspora must understand that X posts do not equate to political progress. Visibility on social media means little if not translated into real-world outcomes: legislative debates, media stories, policy papers, academic research, and institutional support.
Other movements have shown what is possible. Leave larger conflicts such as Afghanistan, Palestinian, Uyghurs, Hong Kong, Kurds, Turkish, Ukrainian, even Tamil, and Rohingya diasporas have successfully leveraged media, academic institutions, and political platforms to amplify their causes. They have trained spokespeople, built NGOs, and nurtured a new generation of advocates who can understand Western political systems.
Unless the Baloch diaspora confronts its internal dysfunction and commits to building a credible, coordinated, and knowledge-based advocacy strategy, Balochistan will remain absent from the global human rights discourse, not because its suffering is less severe, but because its advocates are not being heard where it matters.
(The author is a graduate in Violence, Conflict and Development from SOAS University of London, with a research focus on Iran and its ethnic tensions, particularly concerning the Baloch community across the goldsmith line. He hails from Sistan-Baluchestan.)
