Sarhad University Incident: Is This the Future of Pakistan?

A University Protest, an Armed Confrontation, and a Warning Pakistan Should Not Ignore

On August 24, 2026, a student protest at the Islamabad campus of Sarhad University of Science and Information Technology (SUSIT) escalated into an extraordinary confrontation. Video footage circulating widely online showed a uniformed man striking a person with a stick, becoming involved in a physical clash with students, drawing a pistol, pointing it toward the crowd and then firing into the air. Police subsequently intervened. Pakistani media reported that the individual was a serving military officer and that he was later taken into custody for disciplinary proceedings.

The immediate incident is disturbing enough. But the more important question is larger:

What does it say about Pakistan when a dispute inside a university can escalate from disagreement and protest to sticks, physical violence and the display and discharge of a firearm?

And perhaps more importantly:

Is this an isolated breakdown of judgment, or a warning about the direction in which Pakistani society and its institutions are moving?

The answer requires caution. One incident cannot define an entire country or institution. Nor should allegations circulating on social media automatically be accepted as established facts. But the Sarhad University episode raises serious questions about institutional boundaries, civilian authority, student rights, accountability and Pakistan’s political culture.

What Happened at Sarhad University?

The incident occurred at SUSIT’s Chattha Bakhtawar campus in Islamabad on Monday, August 24.

According to Dawn and The Express Tribune, students had been protesting over the dismissal of a senior university official and other university-related grievances.

Business Recorder provided a more detailed account based largely on students’ claims. It reported that an earlier dispute had occurred between the Head of the Nursing Department, Dr Jadoon Khan, and HR manager Dr Aina Ilyas. Students subsequently protested against the HR manager’s behaviour and demanded her resignation.

However, important parts of this background remain disputed.

Another account reported that Dr Aina had made a harassment complaint against Dr Jadoon and that some protesting students later allegedly verbally abused or harassed her. Witnesses cited by Pakistan Connect said the situation was already deteriorating before the uniformed officer arrived.

This distinction matters.

A fair investigation must examine the behaviour of everyone involved—students, university officials, police and the military officer.

Whatever happened beforehand, however, the video evidence of the subsequent confrontation has created a separate and extremely serious issue.

The Arrival of the Uniformed Officer

Media reports identified the man as the husband of the university official and described him as a serving military officer.

According to Business Recorder, he arrived at the university in military uniform after being contacted by his wife. An argument followed and rapidly became physical.

Dawn reported that sources said he had gone to the university to assist his spouse after she had allegedly been harassed by protesters.

That context deserves consideration.

If a person genuinely believes that his spouse is in danger, the instinct to protect her is understandable.

But there is an enormous difference between protecting a family member and entering a civilian university dispute while in military uniform and armed.

If there was an immediate threat, the appropriate institutional response should have involved university security and civilian law enforcement.

That distinction is fundamental to a functioning state.

Then Came the Stick

The video footage described by multiple Pakistani news organisations shows the uniformed individual striking a person with a stick before the confrontation escalates.

The crowd then surrounds him, and some protesters appear to physically assault him.

This part should not be ignored simply because criticism has focused heavily on the officer.

Students do not acquire a right to beat someone merely because they are protesting.

If protesters assaulted the officer or threatened his wife, those actions should also be investigated and, where evidence supports prosecution, dealt with according to law.

Accountability cannot be selective.

But the crucial principle is that violence by one side does not automatically legalise or justify every response by the other.

The Moment That Changed the Meaning of the Incident

The confrontation reached its most dangerous point when the uniformed individual drew a pistol.

Footage described by Dawn and The Express Tribune shows him pointing the firearm toward the crowd. A woman accompanying him appears to attempt to restrain him. He then raises the weapon and fires into the air. Police officers subsequently move toward him.

This transformed a university dispute into something potentially deadly.

A bullet fired into the air does not simply disappear.

More importantly, introducing a firearm into a chaotic crowd creates the possibility of panic, accidental discharge, retaliatory violence or death.

Pakistan should therefore be thankful that the incident did not apparently become something much worse.

The Most Important Question: Why Was a Military Uniform Present in a Civilian University Dispute?

This is perhaps the central institutional question.

The Pakistan Army was not officially confronting Sarhad University students.

The reported dispute was not a military operation.

It was not a battlefield.

It was not a counterterrorism action.

It was an internal university dispute involving students and university officials.

Therefore, the appearance of a serving officer in uniform and armed with a firearm inevitably created an impression extending far beyond an ordinary dispute between individuals.

A military uniform represents the state and one of its most powerful institutions.

That is precisely why military discipline normally places extraordinary responsibility on the person wearing it.

When someone wearing that uniform becomes involved in a private confrontation, the distinction between personal authority and institutional authority can become dangerously blurred.

Pakistan’s Constitution Provides Another Standard

The Constitution of Pakistan provides important principles against which incidents such as this should be considered.

Article 14 declares the dignity of man inviolable.

Article 16 guarantees citizens the right to assemble peacefully and without arms, subject to reasonable restrictions imposed by law in the interest of public order.

Article 19 protects freedom of speech and expression, again subject to constitutionally recognised reasonable restrictions.

These rights are not licences for mob violence.

A peaceful protest can lose its protection when participants commit violence or other offences.

But neither can alleged misconduct by protesters erase the principle that state authority and coercive force must operate through lawful institutions and defined procedures.

That is the essence of rule of law.

The Positive Part of the Story Must Also Be Recognised

There is one development that should not be overlooked.

Reports indicate that the officer was taken into custody and that disciplinary proceedings or an inquiry were initiated.

Dawn reported sources as saying that the Pakistan Army’s priority was maintaining discipline and ensuring justice, with further action dependent on the findings of the inquiry.

Business Recorder similarly reported that military leadership had taken serious notice of the incident and that an inquiry had been initiated.

If that investigation is independent, credible and followed by appropriate action based on evidence, it would demonstrate something important:

An individual’s rank or uniform does not place him above accountability.

Pakistan desperately needs that principle to be visible in practice.

But Accountability Must Include Everyone

There is another lesson in the footage.

Pakistan cannot build the rule of law by replacing abuse of authority with mob justice.

If students surrounded and assaulted the officer, that too is unacceptable.

If a university employee was threatened or harassed, investigate it.

If students committed assault, investigate it.

If university management acted unlawfully, investigate it.

If police failed in their duties, investigate it.

And if an armed serving officer exceeded his authority, investigate and punish that conduct according to applicable law.

The formula should be remarkably simple:

One law, one process, one standard of justice.

Pakistan’s difficulty has often been achieving that equality in practice.

Is This the Future of Pakistan?

It does not have to be.

But the incident can reasonably be viewed as a warning.

Pakistan is a remarkably young country demographically. Its future depends heavily upon students who are currently sitting in universities, technical institutes and colleges.

Those young people are observing the institutions around them.

They are learning not merely from textbooks but from what society demonstrates to them.

If they repeatedly learn that connections are more powerful than procedures, that intimidation is more effective than dialogue, that violence produces faster results than institutions and that different people receive different treatment under the law, Pakistan risks creating a generation deeply distrustful of the state.

That would be extraordinarily dangerous.

Universities Should Produce Questions, Not Fear

A university should be among the safest places in society for disagreement.

Students will protest.

Administrations will make unpopular decisions.

Teachers and employees will have disputes.

Young people will sometimes behave irresponsibly.

Management will sometimes make mistakes.

These problems exist in universities throughout the world.

The solution is governance.

Universities need grievance mechanisms, disciplinary procedures, independent inquiry committees, student representation, campus security and—when criminal behaviour occurs—civilian police and courts.

The normal sequence should be:

Complaint → Investigation → Hearing → Decision → Appeal.

Not:

Argument → Threat → Stick → Crowd violence → Gunfire.

When the second sequence replaces the first, institutions have already failed.

The Danger Is Bigger Than One Officer

It would be easy to make the entire Sarhad University controversy about one individual.

That would miss the deeper issue.

The real question is whether Pakistan is developing institutions strong enough that individual power becomes unnecessary.

In a strong state, a university administrator should not need a powerful relative.

A student should not need a political organisation.

A citizen should not need connections in the police.

A businessman should not need a bureaucratic contact.

A victim should not need social-media pressure.

And an accused person should not need influence.

Everyone should need only one thing:

the law.

That is what separates institutional government from personalised power.

Pakistan’s Youth Are Watching

This may ultimately be the most consequential part of the Sarhad University episode.

Young Pakistanis can see everything.

Smartphones have radically changed the relationship between authority and citizens. An incident that twenty years ago might have remained inside a university compound can now be recorded from several angles and watched by millions within hours.

Authority therefore operates in a new environment.

Uniforms still command respect.

Government positions still carry authority.

But neither automatically controls the narrative anymore.

A mobile-phone camera can place the conduct of a powerful person before the entire country within minutes.

Institutions that understand this reality will become more transparent and disciplined.

Those that attempt to rely primarily upon fear may increasingly encounter public resistance.

The Dangerous Alternative

There is another possibility Pakistan should consider seriously.

If citizens lose confidence that institutions will deliver justice, they may increasingly try to obtain justice themselves.

That produces mob behaviour.

Then authorities respond with greater force.

Citizens become angrier.

Authorities become more defensive.

Protests become more confrontational.

The state responds more aggressively.

And each confrontation becomes justification for the next.

That cycle can destroy societies.

The answer is neither an all-powerful state nor an uncontrolled street.

It is credible institutions.

This Should Not Become an Anti-Army Story

There is also an important distinction that responsible reporting should maintain.

The alleged actions of one serving officer should not automatically be attributed to hundreds of thousands of members of Pakistan’s armed forces.

Individual responsibility matters.

Indeed, if the military investigates and appropriately disciplines an officer found to have violated its rules, that would demonstrate institutional accountability rather than institutional endorsement of his behaviour.

Criticism should therefore focus on conduct, authority and accountability, rather than hostility toward an entire institution.

The same standard applies to the students.

The misconduct of some protesters should not remove the rights of every student or delegitimise every grievance they raised.

What Should Happen Now?

First, the inquiry should establish a complete timeline: what started the original university dispute, what happened to the university officials involved, whether anyone was threatened or harassed, who called the police, when the officer arrived, who initiated physical violence, why a firearm was drawn, how many shots were fired and whether any criminal laws or military regulations were violated.

Second, relevant video evidence should be preserved rather than relying upon selectively edited social-media clips.

Third, students accused of assault or other offences should receive due process rather than collective punishment.

Fourth, any university officials accused of misconduct should also receive a fair investigation.

Fifth, the findings concerning the armed confrontation should eventually be communicated transparently enough that the public can understand whether accountability actually occurred.

Without transparency, rumours will fill the vacuum.

Is Fear Becoming Pakistan’s Method of Governance?

This incident also touches a wider national debate.

A state can maintain order through two fundamentally different forms of authority.

One is institutional legitimacy:

Citizens obey laws because they believe the system is broadly legitimate and that violations will be handled through predictable legal procedures.

The other is fear:

Citizens comply because they fear what powerful institutions or individuals might do to them.

Fear can produce obedience temporarily.

It cannot produce durable legitimacy.

A country of more than 240 million people cannot sustainably be governed through intimidation.

Eventually citizens ask a simple question:

Why should I respect institutions that do not respect me?

That question is dangerous for every state.

The Future Pakistan Should Choose

Sarhad University should therefore become more than another viral video that Pakistan discusses for several days before moving to the next controversy.

It should become a case study.

Not because it proves that Pakistan has no future.

Quite the opposite.

It demonstrates precisely what Pakistan must correct to protect its future.

Imagine the alternative Pakistan:

A student peacefully protests without fearing violence.

A university administrator handles grievances transparently.

A police officer enforces the law regardless of someone’s rank.

A military officer understands that the prestige of his uniform demands greater restraint, not greater privilege.

A protester understands that disagreement does not permit assault.

A judge examines evidence without considering status.

And a citizen knows that whether he is rich or poor, civilian or soldier, student or official, the same law applies to him.

That Pakistan is possible.

But it will not emerge automatically.

It has to be built through thousands of decisions in universities, police stations, government offices, military institutions and courts.

Conclusion: A Warning, Not a Prediction

Is the Sarhad University incident the future of Pakistan?

No—not inevitably.

But it offers Pakistan two possible futures.

In one, institutional boundaries continue to weaken. Personal influence substitutes for procedure. Citizens increasingly distrust authority. Protests become confrontational, officials respond with force, and each side sees the other as an enemy.

In the other, Pakistan treats incidents like this as opportunities to strengthen accountability. Officers are accountable for their conduct. Students are accountable for theirs. University administrators answer for theirs. Police operate according to law. Investigations establish facts instead of protecting status.

The difference between those futures comes down to one principle:

Nobody should be above the law—and nobody should be beneath its protection.

The most powerful image from Sarhad University should therefore not ultimately be the gun, the stick or the angry crowd.

It should be what happens afterward.

If the investigation is credible, evidence is made clear and everyone responsible is treated according to law, Pakistan’s institutions can emerge stronger.

If the controversy disappears without transparent accountability, the message received by millions of young Pakistanis will be very different.

And that message—not a few seconds of viral video—may determine whether Sarhad University was simply an ugly incident in Pakistan’s present or a glimpse of Pakistan’s future.

Sources

1. Dawn — “Protest at Islamabad varsity turns ugly after clash between uniformed individual, students,” August 24, 2026. Reports the video evidence, custody of the security official and disciplinary proceedings.
2. Dawn — “Varsity protest turns ugly after students clash with ‘man in uniform’,” August 25, 2026. Provides additional reporting concerning the protest, alleged harassment and subsequent confrontation.
3. Business Recorder — “Protest at Sarhad University Islamabad: Inquiry against military officer launched,” August 25, 2026. Provides details concerning the preceding university dispute, protest, confrontation and reported military inquiry.
4. The Express Tribune — “Student protest at Islamabad university turns tense after clash with uniformed official,” August 24, 2026. Reports the footage showing the stick, physical confrontation, firearm and police intervention.
5. The Express Tribune — “Students protest after clash with varsity official,” August 25, 2026. Provides further reporting on the confrontation and video footage.
6. National Assembly of Pakistan — Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. Article 14 protects human dignity; Article 16 provides freedom of peaceful assembly; Article 19 provides freedom of speech and expression subject to constitutional restrictions.

Editorial Note

This report was prepared on August 25, 2026, while inquiries into the Sarhad University incident were still developing. Some details—particularly the events preceding the recorded confrontation—remain disputed. Allegations against students, university employees and the military officer should therefore not be treated as final findings of guilt until investigated by the competent authorities.

Power, Privilege and Unequal Justice in Pakistan: When Influence Appears to Change the Course of Law

Pakistan’s Constitution promises equality before the law. In principle, a wealthy industrialist, the child of a senior judge, a labourer, a domestic worker and an ordinary citizen should all stand on equal ground before the police and courts.

In practice, however, many Pakistanis believe that justice operates differently for people with money, political influence, institutional connections or powerful family backgrounds.

This perception does not arise merely because wealthy defendants sometimes obtain bail or acquittal. Bail is a legal right, acquittal can result from weak evidence, and Pakistani law permits compromise between parties in certain criminal cases. A favourable judgment therefore cannot automatically be described as corruption or misuse of influence.

The deeper concern is what sometimes happens before a final judgment is reached: delays in registering cases, weak investigations, disputed evidence, complainants withdrawing allegations, families suddenly agreeing to settlements, witnesses changing their positions, and influential defendants gaining access to legal remedies that ordinary citizens may struggle to obtain.

Several high-profile cases during the past three years illustrate why the issue of unequal justice and elite privilege remains an important public concern in Pakistan.

The Shanzay Malik Hit-and-Run Case

One of the most striking examples involves a road accident in Islamabad and Shanzay Malik, daughter of Supreme Court Justice Malik Shahzad Ahmed Khan.

Two workers, Shakeel Tanoli and Hasnain Ali, were hit by an SUV in Islamabad in June 2022. According to later court reporting, the investigation into the case remained stalled for a considerable period.

In July 2024, Islamabad’s Inspector General of Police informed the Islamabad High Court that the vehicle involved in the accident was being used by Justice Malik Shahzad Ahmed Khan and that a woman had been driving it.

Shanzay Malik subsequently appeared before a court in August 2024 and obtained pre-arrest bail. Her lawyers argued that police had incorrectly applied Section 322 of the Pakistan Penal Code and that Section 320, a bailable offence in the circumstances argued by the defence, was applicable because she possessed a valid driving licence. The court granted her bail.

The case later ended in acquittal in February 2025. Her lawyers argued that police had failed to produce substantial evidence, questioned the delay surrounding the case and argued that available photographs did not clearly identify her. The complainant’s lawyer contested those arguments and maintained that evidence supported the prosecution’s position.

Then came another development.

In May 2025, the father of one of the victims withdrew his appeal against the acquittal, reportedly saying that he had nominated Shanzay because of a misunderstanding. Dawn also reported that the investigation into the accident had remained stalled for a period.

None of these developments proves that Justice Malik Shahzad Ahmed Khan or another official improperly influenced the proceedings.

Nevertheless, the sequence naturally raises questions in the public mind: Would an ordinary Pakistani accused of causing two deaths have experienced the same investigative delays, access to legal resources and eventual outcome?

That question is about equality of opportunity within the justice system, rather than simply whether a particular court judgment was legally correct.

A Second Fatal Accident Involving the Son of a High Court Judge

A remarkably similar controversy emerged in Islamabad in December 2025.

Two young women travelling on a scooter were killed after being struck by an SUV near the Pakistan National Council of Arts. The vehicle was allegedly being driven by Abuzar, the teenage son of Islamabad High Court Justice Mohammed Asif.

According to the FIR reported by Dawn, the vehicle fled after the collision. Police traced the SUV and eventually located the suspect at a private hospital. He was arrested, the vehicle was impounded, and a court initially granted police a physical remand.

However, after four days of physical remand, the families of both deceased women appeared before the court and pardoned the accused.

Following their statements, the judicial magistrate granted him bail and ordered his release.

Legally, forgiveness or compromise by victims’ heirs can have significant consequences under Pakistani criminal law, particularly where the relevant offence is compoundable.

Therefore, the court granting relief after the families’ statements does not itself establish wrongdoing.

But another development made the case particularly significant.

Later that same month, a lawyer submitted a complaint to the Supreme Judicial Council, alleging misconduct and abuse of office by Justice Mohammed Asif in relation to the incident. These remained allegations contained in a complaint rather than established findings.

The case therefore presents a difficult but important question.

When the accused is the son of an extremely powerful public official and the families of two deceased young women forgive him within days, can society confidently distinguish between a completely voluntary settlement and one occurring within an enormous imbalance of power?

There is no reliable evidence establishing that the families were coerced. It would therefore be unfair to claim that they were.

But the circumstances demonstrate why transparency becomes even more important whenever an accused person belongs to a powerful family.

Justice must not only be fair; people must reasonably be able to see that it is fair.

The Karsaz Accident: Wealth, Death and Compromise

Another case that generated enormous public reaction occurred on Karachi’s Karsaz Road in August 2024.

A Toyota Land Cruiser driven by Natasha Danish struck motorcycles and another vehicle. Sixty-year-old Imran Arif and his 22-year-old daughter Amna were killed, while other people were injured.

Police later registered a separate case after a medical report reportedly indicated the presence of methamphetamine in her system.

The accident case, however, moved toward compromise.

In September 2024, the legal heirs of the deceased told the court that they had pardoned Natasha. Their representatives publicly maintained that the forgiveness was made “in the name of Allah”, while lawyers said they were unaware of reports circulating about a financial settlement.

The court subsequently granted bail in the manslaughter case.

In October 2024, a Karachi sessions court acquitted Natasha in the main accident case after accepting the compromise between the parties. Section 322, under which the manslaughter allegation had been prosecuted, was legally compoundable.

Importantly, the judicial system did not simply grant every request made by the accused.

Lower courts rejected her bail applications in the separate drug-related case before the Sindh High Court ultimately granted bail against surety bonds of Rs1 million.

This distinction matters.

It would be inaccurate to say that the case proves that money “bought” justice. There is no evidence establishing that conclusion.

What the case does expose is a broader structural problem: Pakistan’s system of compoundable offences and private compromise can produce dramatically different outcomes when one party possesses far greater financial and legal resources than the other.

The law may technically apply equally, yet bargaining power outside the courtroom may be anything but equal.

Fatima Furiro: When the High Court Itself Identified Influence

Perhaps the most important recent case for understanding elite influence is the death of nine-year-old domestic worker Fatima Furiro.

Fatima was working inside a mansion in Ranipur, Sindh, when she died in August 2023. Her death resulted in a major criminal investigation involving members of an influential local family.

Unlike many other cases where allegations of influence come primarily from victims, journalists or social-media commentators, this case produced explicit observations from the Sindh High Court.

While rejecting a bail application in November 2023, a Sindh High Court bench stated that the complainant was extremely poor while the accused were influential and were “wielding control over entire district machinery.”

The court also criticised how the case had been handled by police.

That observation goes directly to the heart of Pakistan’s inequality problem.

Political or social influence does not necessarily have to operate through a telephone call to a judge.

Its effects may appear much earlier.

An influential person may command respect or fear within a district. Police officers may understand that individual’s position. Junior officials may hesitate to act aggressively. Evidence may not be collected with the urgency expected in an ordinary murder investigation. Witnesses may become reluctant. Government officers may behave differently without ever receiving an explicit written instruction.

This phenomenon is sometimes described as institutional deference to power.

Fatima Furiro’s case therefore represents something more serious than public speculation: a superior court itself identified an extraordinary imbalance between an impoverished complainant and influential accused persons.

Rizwana: A Poor Domestic Worker Against a Judge’s Household

The 2023 case involving teenage domestic worker Rizwana revealed another side of the same problem.

Rizwana worked at the Islamabad home of a civil judge. His wife, Somia Asim, was accused of severely torturing the girl.

Medical documentation reported numerous injuries, including fractures, lacerations and bruising.

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of the case occurred at its beginning.

Dawn reported that Islamabad police registered the FIR after initially showing reluctance. The original case reportedly included criminal intimidation and wrongful confinement but did not initially contain charges directly reflecting the alleged physical torture. Additional sections, including attempted murder, were subsequently added.

Public attention increased substantially.

A special joint investigation team was eventually established to investigate the case.

The judiciary ultimately demonstrated that judicial connections did not provide complete immunity. Somia Asim’s pre-arrest bail was rejected and she was arrested from court premises.

That part of the case deserves acknowledgement because it demonstrates that institutions can act against influential defendants.

But the initial police response remains significant.

Why should police reportedly hesitate when the alleged victim is an injured teenage domestic worker?

The answer may illustrate one of the most important mechanisms through which power affects justice.

The greatest advantage of influence may not always be obtaining an acquittal.

It can be influencing the starting position of the case.

How Power Can Operate Without Controlling a Judge

Public debate about unequal justice frequently concentrates on judges, but the criminal justice system begins long before a judge sees a file.

Consider the journey of an ordinary criminal case:

Incident → police response → FIR → selection of criminal sections → arrest → evidence collection → medical examination → witness statements → investigation report → prosecution → bail proceedings → trial → appeal.

Every stage matters.

If an influential accused receives an advantage during the first five stages, the eventual judge may receive a fundamentally weaker prosecution case.

Evidence lost in the first 48 hours cannot easily be recreated months later.

A witness who disappears cannot conveniently be replaced.

A CCTV recording that is not secured may be overwritten.

A poorly drafted FIR can cause difficulties throughout subsequent proceedings.

A medical examination conducted late may produce weaker evidence.

A powerful lawyer can then legitimately argue before the court that the prosecution has failed to establish its case.

The judge may acquit the defendant because the evidence is inadequate—and legally, that may be the correct decision.

Yet the real failure may have occurred much earlier.

This distinction is critical for understanding inequality within Pakistan’s justice system.

Two Different Experiences of the Same Legal System

Pakistan does not formally maintain separate laws for rich and poor citizens.

But access to those laws can be radically different.

A financially secure or politically connected person can employ senior lawyers immediately, approach the High Court, seek protective bail, challenge the provisions contained in an FIR, obtain expert medical or forensic opinions, pursue repeated appeals and continue litigation for years.

A poor labourer may struggle merely to pay transportation costs for repeated court appearances.

A wealthy defendant can afford litigation.

A poor complainant may lose a day’s wages every time he attends court.

An influential family may have relationships with senior administrators, lawyers and officials.

A poor family may not even understand which office it must approach.

Consequently, legal equality written in legislation can coexist with profound inequality in access to justice.

Pakistan’s Rule-of-Law Indicators Reflect the Wider Problem

International indicators reinforce concerns about the country’s justice and governance institutions.

The World Justice Project’s Rule of Law Index 2025 ranked Pakistan 130th out of 143 countries overall.

Pakistan ranked:

• 123rd for Absence of Corruption;
• 128th for Fundamental Rights;
• 129th for Civil Justice;
• 101st for Criminal Justice;
• and 143rd, last among all countries evaluated, for Order and Security.

The World Justice Project also reported that Pakistan’s overall rule-of-law score declined by approximately 2.3 percent in the 2025 index and identified deterioration connected with judicial independence, civic space and improper government influence over justice systems.

Transparency International’s 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index gave Pakistan a score of 28 out of 100, ranking it 136th out of 182 countries and territories. The CPI measures perceptions of public-sector corruption rather than proving corruption in individual court cases, but it provides useful institutional context.

These rankings do not mean that every Pakistani police officer, prosecutor or judge is corrupt.

Nor do they prove wrongdoing in any of the cases described above.

They indicate something broader: Pakistan’s institutions operate within an environment where public-sector corruption, weak rule of law, access to justice and institutional independence remain serious challenges.

The Most Dangerous Form of Inequality Is Invisible

The most obvious abuse of power is direct interference: an official ordering police to release someone, threatening a witness or instructing an investigator to manipulate evidence.

But a more subtle form can be even harder to confront.

When institutions become accustomed to hierarchy, officials may begin treating powerful people differently without ever receiving an explicit order.

The police officer knows who the family is.

The investigating officer knows who might telephone his superior.

The government employee knows whose interests are involved.

The complainant understands whom he is challenging.

The poor family understands the financial cost of continuing litigation.

The witness understands the potential consequences of remaining involved.

Eventually everyone makes individually rational decisions—and collectively the system begins bending toward power.

That is how unequal justice can become institutional rather than conspiratorial.

Compromise: Justice or an Escape Route for the Powerful?

Pakistan also needs a serious debate about the role of compromise in cases involving death and serious injury.

Islamic and Pakistani legal principles recognise forgiveness, diyat and compromise in appropriate offences. These mechanisms can serve legitimate purposes and can allow families to resolve disputes.

The difficulty arises where the economic difference between the accused and victims is enormous.

Imagine two families.

One has wealth, experienced lawyers, institutional connections and unlimited ability to continue litigation.

The other has lost its principal income earner and struggles to pay household expenses.

Technically, both parties are equally free to negotiate.

Practically, their bargaining positions are completely different.

That does not mean every compromise involving a wealthy defendant is coercive or illegitimate.

It means courts and legislators should consider whether additional safeguards are required to verify that consent is genuinely voluntary, particularly in high-profile cases involving serious injury or death and substantial disparities in wealth or power.

Justice Must Be Equal in Practice, Not Only in the Constitution

Pakistan’s problem cannot be solved by assuming that every wealthy defendant is guilty or that every judge granting bail is corrupt.

That approach would itself undermine justice.

A fair system must defend the legal rights of the unpopular and powerful just as vigorously as those of the poor.

But equality must work in both directions.

The daughter of a labourer should receive the same investigative urgency as the daughter of a judge.

A domestic worker should receive the same police protection as the wife of an influential official.

A poor father whose child has died should be able to pursue litigation without fearing financial ruin.

Police should register cases according to evidence rather than status.

Prosecutors should pursue cases independently.

Courts should receive properly collected evidence.

And compromises involving huge disparities of power deserve particular scrutiny.

The central question is therefore not whether Pakistan possesses laws.

Pakistan possesses thousands of laws.

The question is whether those laws possess the same force when confronting powerful people as they do when confronting ordinary citizens.

Cases such as Fatima Furiro, Rizwana, the Karsaz accident, the Shanzay Malik case and the Islamabad judge’s son’s accident do not all prove misuse of influence. Their circumstances and legal outcomes differ substantially.

But collectively, they help explain why so many citizens believe that there are two experiences of justice in Pakistan:

one for those who must face the system—and another for those powerful enough to navigate it.

Restoring confidence requires more than judgments.

It requires transparent investigations, independent police, effective prosecution, protection for victims and witnesses, affordable access to competent lawyers, accountability for investigative failures and visible assurance that social status cannot alter the application of law.

Because the greatest danger to a justice system is not simply that an innocent person may occasionally be punished or a guilty person may occasionally escape.

It is the moment when ordinary citizens begin believing that justice depends less on what happened than on who you are.

Sources and References

1. Dawn — “Furiro case mishandled by police, says high court,” November 26, 2023. Sindh High Court observations regarding the poverty of the complainant, influence of the accused and control over district machinery.
2. Dawn — “Maid torture case: Islamabad court rejects suspect’s post-arrest bail plea,” August 10, 2023. Reporting on Rizwana’s injuries, initial police reluctance and subsequent addition of more serious charges.
3. Dawn — “Police arrest judge’s wife in maid torture case after bail rejection,” August 8, 2023. Details of Somia Asim’s arrest and court proceedings.
4. Dawn — “Islamabad police constitute 5-member JIT to probe maid torture case,” August 4, 2023. Formation of the special investigation team in the Rizwana case.
5. Dawn — “Bail granted to SC judge’s daughter in Islamabad hit, run case,” August 7, 2024. Reporting on Shanzay Malik’s surrender, legal arguments and pre-arrest bail.
6. Dawn — “Judge’s daughter acquitted in hit-and-run case in Islamabad,” February 26, 2025. Court acquittal and prosecution/defence arguments concerning evidence.
7. Dawn — “Daughter of SC judge absolved of charges in hit-and-run case,” May 18, 2025. Reporting on withdrawal of the victim’s father’s appeal and background to the investigation.
8. Dawn — “Karsaz accident suspects granted bail as victims’ family pardons ‘in the name of Allah’,” September 6, 2024. Reporting on the victims’ heirs pardoning Natasha Danish and subsequent bail.
9. Dawn — “Karsaz accident driver denied bail in drug case,” September 9, 2024. Reporting on the medical report and separate drug-related proceedings.
10. Dawn — “SHC grants Karsaz accident suspect bail in drug case,” September 30, 2024. Sindh High Court bail order after lower courts had rejected bail.
11. Dawn — “Karachi sessions court acquits Karsaz accident driver in murder case,” October 31, 2024. Acquittal following compromise between the parties.
12. Dawn — “Son of IHC judge sent on physical remand in hit-and-run case,” December 3, 2025. Initial arrest, FIR and remand following the deaths of two women in Islamabad.
13. Dawn — “Victims’ families pardon IHC judge’s son in hit-and-run case,” December 7, 2025. Reporting on the families’ pardons and subsequent bail and release.
14. Dawn — “Lawyer requests inquiry into IHC judge’s ‘misconduct, abuse of power’ in son’s hit-and-run case,” December 29, 2025. Reporting on allegations submitted to the Supreme Judicial Council; the allegations should not be treated as established findings.
15. World Justice Project — Rule of Law Index 2025: Pakistan. Pakistan ranked 130th of 143 countries overall, with detailed rankings for corruption, fundamental rights, civil justice and criminal justice.
16. Transparency International — Corruption Perceptions Index 2025: Pakistan. Pakistan scored 28/100 and ranked 136th among 182 countries and territories.

Editorial note: References to influence, privilege or unequal treatment in this article describe documented circumstances, court observations, allegations and wider systemic concerns. They should not be interpreted as declarations that any individual named in the article committed corruption, improperly influenced a judge, coerced a victim or is guilty of an offence unless such a finding has been established by a competent court.