In the lush yet politically sensitive terrains of northern Pakistan, where stories often vanish faster than the seasons change, Zubair Torwali is preserving entire worlds. A cultural activist, linguist, and educator, Torwali is not simply trying to save words—he is trying to save identities.

Born in the scenic town of Bahrain, nestled in the Swat Valley, Torwali grew up hearing the Torwali language, a Dardic tongue spoken by only a few thousand people. Over the years, as mainstream education and dominant languages like Urdu and Pashto eclipsed indigenous speech, he noticed something troubling—young people in his community were growing up without knowing their mother tongue. Their songs, their folklore, their collective memory—were slipping away.

Zubair Torwali refused to let silence win.

In 2007, he founded Idara Baraye Taleem-o-Taraqi (IBT), or the "Institute for Education and Development," a nonprofit organization that began with a simple but radical goal: to protect and promote Pakistan’s endangered languages and cultures, beginning with his own.

What began as a literacy initiative has grown into one of South Asia’s most important community-led language preservation movements. IBT not only runs early-grade mother-tongue education programs, but also publishes books, primers, folk tales, poetry collections, and research studies in Torwali and other marginalized languages. The organization trains teachers from within the communities it serves, ensuring that education is linguistically relevant and locally empowering.

For Zubair, language is a lifeline, not just a tool. “When a language dies, a way of thinking dies. A whole worldview collapses,” he says.

But Torwali’s work is not confined to classrooms. As a public intellectual, he has written extensively on linguistic rights, cultural pluralism, and counter-extremism. His op-eds in Dawn, The Friday Times, and The Express Tribune consistently advocate for policy reforms, arguing that state-led language hierarchies have deepened ethnic tensions and educational inequalities in Pakistan.

He has made the case—again and again—that multilingual education is not a luxury. It is a necessity in a country as linguistically rich and politically fragile as Pakistan. His efforts have led to conversations at provincial and national levels, and he remains an advisor and thought leader in Pakistan’s slowly evolving approach to inclusive education and minority rights.

Zubair Torwali’s international recognition is both well-earned and hard-fought. He is a recipient of the Linguapax International Award—a global honor given to individuals working to protect linguistic diversity. He has also been awarded fellowships and grants by Human Rights Watch, the Asian Leadership Fellow Program, and other global organizations that understand the link between language preservation and peace-building.

He is also the author of “Muffled Voices: Longing for a Pluralist and Peaceful Pakistan”, a compelling collection of essays on cultural marginalization, religious extremism, and the need for local empowerment. In it, Torwali not only critiques Pakistan’s neglect of its diverse voices, but offers actionable alternatives rooted in community engagement, intercultural dialogue, and education.

In Pakistan, where political priorities rarely align with cultural preservation, Zubair’s work remains a rare light—intensely local, fiercely ethical, and globally resonant. He has taken what many considered “dying dialects” and infused them with new life through education, literature, and advocacy. Young children now write poems in Torwali. Elders see their stories published. A silenced generation is speaking again.

Zubair Torwali envisions a Pakistan that doesn’t just tolerate its linguistic diversity, but celebrates it. One where public education systems recognize mother-tongue instruction as a right, not a burden. One where every language—no matter how small—is honored as a repository of wisdom and history.

As global conversations around decolonization, indigenous rights, and cultural sustainability grow louder, Torwali’s work resonates far beyond Swat Valley. It speaks to every community fighting to hold on to its language, and to every policymaker with the power to either preserve or erase.

In a world increasingly shaped by algorithmic voices and uniform narratives, Zubair Torwali is reminding us of something vital: that diversity begins in the way we speak—and what we choose to remember.