The history of Pakistan is marked by instances where the principle of the rule of law has been compromised by the arbitrary dictates of powerful individuals or institutions. The roots of this problem can be traced back to the Moulvi Tamizuddin Khan case, where constitutional supremacy and due process were seriously undermined. The consequences went beyond that case: it opened the door for powerful actors to interfere with constitutional governance and weakened public confidence in institutional independence. Unfortunately, this problem has not remained confined to history. Even today, we continue to witness cases that raise serious questions about fundamental rights, due process, and access to justice.
The case of human rights activists and lawyers Imaan Mazari-Hazir and her husband, Hadi Ali Chattha, is one such example. Both have been vocal advocates for fundamental rights and have faced criminal proceedings over their expression on social media. They have been accused of propagating and spreading anti-state narratives and proceeded against under provisions of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), 2016, concerning offences including cyber terrorism, glorification of offences and dissemination of false information. This raises an important question for an ordinary citizen: where does legitimate criticism of the state end and an “anti-state” act begin? Can criticism of government policies, particularly on sensitive matters such as national security, itself become a criminal act? Laws dealing with such matters must be sufficiently clear so that they cannot be selectively interpreted or used to silence legitimate disagreement.
The case also raises a more fundamental concern: whether a person can genuinely receive justice when access to justice itself is repeatedly delayed. Their sentences were challenged before the High Court, but proceedings concerning suspension of the sentences continued for an extended period. They subsequently approached the Supreme Court, which directed the High Court to decide the matter expeditiously. The concern is not merely whether a person is ultimately found guilty or innocent. Justice must also be delivered within a reasonable time. “Justice delayed is justice denied” is not simply a phrase; it is an essential component of meaningful access to justice.
The Supreme Court subsequently suspended their sentences. Yet, instead of being released, they were reportedly re-arrested in another case relating to allegations of participation in a protest, raising anti-government slogans and blocking a road. This raises another important question. In a democracy, peaceful protest and criticism of government policies are fundamental means through which citizens express disagreement. If citizens are prevented from protesting or voicing criticism against government actions, it becomes difficult to reconcile such restrictions with the ideals of a free and democratic society.
The case also highlights concerns regarding the accused persons’ right to proper legal representation and due process. An accused person in detention must be able to engage counsel and take necessary legal steps to defend himself or herself. Where police authorities repeatedly fail to obtain the signatures of detained accused persons on powers of attorney, or where investigative records are not produced before the court, proceedings can become unnecessarily prolonged. Such delays do not merely affect the efficiency of the justice system; they directly affect the rights of the accused.
Article 10-A of the Constitution of Pakistan guarantees the right to a fair trial and due process, including the opportunity to properly defend oneself and obtain legal representation. Article 37 also places an obligation upon the state to ensure inexpensive and expeditious justice. These guarantees are meaningless if they exist only on paper and are not reflected in the actual treatment of citizens. The same principles are recognized internationally. Article 10 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights provides for a fair and public hearing before an independent and impartial tribunal, while Article 11 recognizes the presumption of innocence and the guarantees necessary for a person’s defence. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights likewise recognizes the right to a fair hearing before a competent, independent and impartial tribunal. Pakistan, as a party to these international human rights instruments, has an obligation to uphold these principles.
The issue, therefore, is bigger than one individual case. The real question is whether the rule of law in Pakistan protects every citizen equally, particularly when that citizen challenges the actions or policies of those in power. Pakistan cannot restore public confidence in its justice system merely by making laws or announcing policies guaranteeing a fair trial. These guarantees must be visible in practice. Accused persons must receive proper representation, courts must decide matters without unnecessary delay, and investigative authorities must comply with due process.
If citizens lose faith that the law will protect them, they may eventually lose faith in the legal system itself. That is dangerous for any democracy. The strength of the rule of law is not tested when the law is convenient for those in power; it is tested when the rights of an unpopular or dissenting citizen must also be protected. For Pakistan, therefore, the challenge is not simply to promise justice, but to deliver it fairly, independently and without unnecessary delay. Only then can access to justice become a reality and the rule of law become a living principle rather than merely a constitutional promise.
