Can Tunisia’s Jobs Plan Deliver on Its Promise?

The Locked Door

In 2024, Tunisia reported a youth unemployment rate of 40%, among the highest in the world. For young people with university degrees, the situation is even more dire: 23.4% remain without jobs, and women are hit hardest (31.2%). These represent a generation that did what was asked of them—studied, graduated, persevered—and still found the door to the labor market locked.

The National Employment Strategy (NES) 2020–2030 was supposed to change that. It promised modern employment services, digital solutions, private-sector partnerships, and better training. It said it would fix the gap between what graduates learn and what employers need. But here we are, years into the strategy, watching the same numbers climb. Graduates are turning away from their fields. Some leave the country. Others wait for months and years with growing frustration.

This review asks a simple question: What went wrong? What in the policy, the market, or the promise failed to connect with reality? The answers aren’t abstract. They’re personal. And they matter because Tunisia’s future depends on them.

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The NES wasn’t created in a vacuum. Tunisia’s economic stress didn’t begin with COVID-19, but the pandemic made things worse especially for young jobseekers. After the revolution, expectations were high, but years of instability, uneven growth, and social frustration followed. So when the NES 2020–2030 was introduced, the promise was clear: reform a system that had stalled too long.

The plan outlines clear goals: reduce unemployment, fix the mismatch between skills and jobs, and open up access to work for groups often left out which include young people, women, and residents of overlooked regions. In the interior regions, unemployment numbers are consistently higher, and women face barriers not just in hiring, but in getting training, transport, or even internet access.

The strategy leans heavily on coordination. Ministries, agencies like National Agency for Employment and Independent Work (ANETI), education providers, and civil society groups are all involved. ANETI is expected to run job placements, promote self-employment, and manage training programs. The Ministry of Labour provides direction. The Ministry of Vocational Training and Employment links education systems with market needs. But the actual coordination between all these actors has often been messy or incomplete.

The Tunisian Union of Industry, Trade and Handicrafts (UTICA) and the Tunisian General Labour Union (UGTT) bring in the employer and worker perspectives. International donors, including the World Bank, European Union (EU), and United Nations (UN) agencies, support the NES through funding and technical advice. Their presence also nudges Tunisia to meet global expectations.

The strategy lists measurable objectives and indicators. There’s an effort to monitor results and assign responsibility. It also connects to global goals like  decent work, education, gender equality, and reducing inequality. But ambitions on paper don’t always translate into day-to-day execution.

Funding is a challenge. Programs often rely on donor backing. Some initiatives disappear once the funding cycle ends. Others operate in silos, disconnected from wider job market realities. Supply-side policies like training don’t always meet demand-side needs, like actual hiring.

There’s also fragmentation. Ministries and agencies don’t always communicate. Jobseekers often don’t know where to go, who to talk to, or how to access services. The system, while well-intentioned, doesn’t always meet people where they are. The NES tries to do a lot, and on paper, it covers key ground. But policy design alone can’t shift outcomes unless the pieces move together.

Silos and Stagnation

These breakdowns are hard to ignore. A university degree no longer guarantees meaningful employment. Employers still struggle to fill key positions, yet young people stay unemployed. The gap between what’s taught and what’s needed keeps growing.

Graduates are expected to be ready for jobs that didn’t exist when their programs were designed. In many advanced economies, about 30% of graduates are underemployed. That figure reflects something deeper than job shortages—it shows a system not built to evolve fast enough. Tunisia isn’t alone here, but the consequences feel sharper where unemployment is already high. Fixing education-to-employment mismatches could lift national output by up to 3.2%. That kind of boost could change lives. Instead, we're watching potential stall.

Vocational training should offer another path, but the system often runs on its own track, disconnected from demand. Funding is low. In some countries, less than 0.2% of GDP goes into Vocational Education and Training (VET). That shows in the quality. Instructors don’t always get the training they need. Programs lag behind industry standards. Students graduate without the digital or technical skills that employers now expect as basic.

Many employers don’t see value in engaging with VET programs. The systems for accrediting training are unclear or poorly enforced. Employers don’t trust the qualifications. That trust matters. Without it, even the best-designed training won't open doors. Add the lack of lifelong learning options, and many adults are left without ways to adjust or upskill. International projects, including GIZ-backed programs, have made some headway but they're often too narrow or short-term to meet the wider need.

Location adds another layer. Most well-resourced programs cluster in coastal cities. Interior and rural regions get left behind. Many young people in those areas face poor internet, limited transport, and few training centers. Rural schools often focus on outdated industries, like agriculture, because that's what's available locally. But that doesn’t prepare students for a changing economy. So they leave. They head to cities with higher hopes, but often end up in unstable jobs or stuck in informal work. Rural businesses—usually small and financially stretched—rarely have the capacity to invest in training. There’s no pipeline of new skills feeding into these communities. That lack of opportunity leads to low ambition, reinforcing the same slow economic growth that held them back in the first place.

Then there’s the politics. Tunisia is not unique in facing instability, but the effect is still damaging. Constant leadership changes slow or completely block long-term reform. In the UK, for comparison, five prime ministers in eight years created major policy swings. Business leaders there now rank political uncertainty above inflation as their top concern.

This kind of churn makes employers nervous. They hesitate to invest, unsure what rules will change next. They pause hiring, avoid long-term training commitments, and pull away from national programs. Social dialogue breaks down. When no one knows who will be in charge next year, it’s hard to commit to building anything long-term, especially the kind of workforce systems that require sustained effort and trust across sectors.

This is what young Tunisians are walking into—an economy that promises much through policy but delivers too little in practice. For many, the path from school to work leads nowhere fast. National data from late 2023 shows the youth unemployment rate at 40.9%, while the overall rate sits at 16.4%. The numbers speak clearly, but behind them is a generation stuck between rising qualifications and shrinking options.

University degrees don’t seem to open the same doors anymore. Among graduates, 23.2% remain unemployed. For women, the rate is 22.2%. These figures aren’t surprising when you look at how many sectors haven’t bounced back since the pandemic. Economic growth has been sluggish. Businesses aren’t hiring enough, and even when jobs exist, most don’t match the skills jobseekers bring.

Many young people aren’t in jobs, education, or training at all. The Not in Employment, Education, or Training (NEET) population includes a significant share of women, especially those from rural areas. Their participation in the labor market has dropped, and when they do work, it’s often precarious. 

Vocational education is often sold as a solution, but its track record in Tunisia remains uneven. Women are underrepresented, especially in technical fields like mechanics, ICT, and construction. In many years, male enrollment in VET programs has been almost double that of females. Even when women complete vocational training, many still face unemployment or land in low-wage service jobs far from what their qualifications prepared them for.

The divide grows wider in rural areas. Cultural expectations, structural inequalities, safety concerns, transportation issues, and cost all combine to limit access for young women. Female labor force participation is 26.7%, and this figure is significantly lower in rural regions. Even in cities, where options are wider, the barriers haven’t disappeared—they’ve just shifted.

Urban areas hold most of the opportunity. In 2024, 71.2% of Tunisians live in cities. Back in 2021, 90% of formal jobs were in urban or coastal zones. Around 85% of businesses operated in these same areas. Meanwhile, the rural interior struggles. Poverty affects nearly 25% of rural residents, compared to 12.7% in urban settings. Young people there often work informally in agriculture, small shops, or construction. These jobs pay little and offer no security.

Even when youth migrate to cities like Greater Tunis, the odds don’t necessarily improve. Formal jobs are limited. An estimated 44% end up in the informal economy, competing for short-term gigs that offer no stability. Still, migration remains a survival strategy. Over 50% of recent migrants to Tunisia come from non-Maghreb African countries, largely driven by economic hardship. Among them, nearly two-thirds (65.7%) plan to leave Tunisia eventually—either returning home or seeking better opportunities elsewhere.

The reasons are clear: not enough jobs, not enough pay, and no way into the formal system. Europe, the Gulf, and North America offer hope that the domestic economy doesn’t. But migration doesn’t guarantee success either. Urban migrants often remain stuck in the same cycle—informal work, low wages, limited mobility.

Remittances help families stay afloat. But that’s not the same as stability or inclusion. These patterns show how Tunisia’s labor market continues to reflect deep gaps between regions, genders, skills, and outcomes. Addressing these realities means more than designing policy. It requires meeting people where they are, not just where strategy says they should be.

While young people continue to face barriers to entry, those tasked with solving the employment puzzle often operate in silos. The Ministry of Labour, now working alongside the Ministry of Employment and Vocational Training, sets the strategic tone, approves initiatives, and manages resources. But policy doesn't move on vision alone. It depends on who’s involved and how clearly responsibilities are shared.

ANETI, with its 80-plus local branches, is meant to be the bridge between jobseekers, training, and employment. Its services range from job matching to microenterprise support and migrant reintegration. ANETI’s “Aneti 2030” vision speaks to broader priorities—entrepreneurship, digital transition—but those ambitions only matter if they consistently reach people where they live. The structure is there. The gaps lie in follow-through.

Civil society stepped in more visibly after 2011. NGOs, especially those focused on youth, have gained traction with backing from programs like Tunisia Works, led by the International Youth Foundation (IYF) and Middle East Partnership Initiative (MEPI). But even with growing reach, many struggle to connect meaningfully with businesses. Their limited access to employer networks and financing means most efforts stay small-scale, no matter how promising. Donors often step in to test new ideas with CSOs, but turning pilots into long-term programs has proven difficult.

UTICA represents more than 150,000 firms across Tunisia. It sits at the policy table, negotiates labor conditions, and promotes private-sector interests. But its role in shaping vocational training or making direct hiring pathways clearer is often passive. Curricula don’t shift fast enough because employer voices aren’t always present or persistent. This gap between consultation and action keeps the training system slow to adapt.

Youth—who make up over 42% of the population—aren’t just waiting for solutions; many are trying to build them. Some engage in civic spaces. Some start businesses. Others protest. But inside formal employment policymaking, their presence is limited. Even programs meant for them often don’t include them in planning. The result: many feel spoken for, not listened to.

Coordination across institutions remains a challenge. Ministries overlap. Agencies run programs that don’t speak to each other. Good ideas surface, but rarely grow beyond isolated trials. Reports from the Torino Process, International Labor Organisation (ILO), and European Training Foundation (ETF) all point to this: labor market data doesn’t circulate well, evidence isn’t shared widely, and decision-making gets bogged down in bureaucracy.

Employer involvement in training remains shallow. Larger companies sometimes offer apprenticeships, but SMEs, which make up most of the economy, lack both time and resources to engage. Many young people in vocational programs say their internships feel more like free labor than preparation for future employment. Businesses aren’t always equipped or motivated to train, and many VET graduates don’t find jobs where their training applies.

International actors like the International Labour Organization (ILO), Swiss State Secretariat for Economic Affairs (SECO), Italian Agency for Development Cooperation (AICS), German Agency for International Cooperation (GIZ), the World Bank, and the African Development Bank have added technical tools and brought in global experience. Programs like JEUN’ESS, PROMESS, PAJESS, FBR@Work, and CAP Emploi offer useful lessons and push for better results tracking. But these remain disconnected from the day-to-day rhythm of NES implementation. Innovations get tested, reports are published, but systems don’t always change.

Even monitoring systems inside the NES lack the flexibility to respond quickly. Data remains patchy and feedback loops are weak. Evaluation focuses more on paperwork than results. Regional disparities and gender gaps linger without being corrected because there's little real-time insight into what's working and what’s not.

So the problem isn’t a shortage of actors. Tunisia has ministries, agencies, unions, CSOs, donors, and businesses involved. The problem is they don’t move together. Without shared direction, clear accountability, and strong data to guide decisions, even the best ideas get stuck between design and delivery.

What Comes Next?

The problem isn’t a lack of ideas. Tunisia has written strategies, built programs, signed agreements. But for too long, real impact has been blocked by the same entrenched patterns: fragmented institutions, outdated training systems, weak employer engagement, and a top-down approach that rarely asks young people what they actually need.

Young Tunisians are still waiting. NEET rates (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) are rising, and graduates are entering a market that doesn't know what to do with them. These describe a generation stuck in limbo. Some take underpaid jobs. Some give up entirely. Some leave the country. That migration isn’t just economic. It’s also a vote of no confidence.

Meanwhile, small and medium-sized businesses, the very ones that could provide meaningful work, are choked by bureaucracy, rigid labor laws, and the kind of state interference that rewards paperwork over results. And vocational training? Still stuck in second gear. Too few pathways, too little relevance, and almost no link to employers’ actual needs.

So where do we go from here? Policymakers have a choice. Keep patching holes or shift the entire model. That means bringing youth into the process, not just as beneficiaries, but as decision-makers. It means fixing data gaps, cutting red tape, and finally giving SMEs room to breathe.

Without these changes, we’ll see more frustration, more exits, and more potential lost. The question isn’t whether reform is needed. It’s whether Tunisia’s leaders are ready to stop managing the problem and start solving it.