The last few months have been unbelievably harrowing for the much-prized notion of chadar and char deewari in Pakistani. However, we have left the cornucopic wave of audio leaks far behind in our determination to make the air as vile as possible. In what can only be termed as unfit for the consumption of the collective conscience, tear-stained senator Azam Swati has stepped forward with a shocking revelation: his wife has received a highly objectionable video of him. Tormenting someone with intimate visuals of their spouse would have been enough reason to hang our heads in shame and let out a sigh at things having plunged to this deep down in the barrel. Alas! The saga takes a turn for the worse–if that was even possible! Mrs Swati was allegedly sent a video featuring the PTI stalwart with herself. The Federal Investigation Agency was surprisingly quick in responding to the emotional presser with a forensic clarification; kickstarting just as heated of a discussion on social media with people from both sides of the table playing the game of who delivers the dirtiest blow. Since the said tale of depravity was orchestrated during the couple’s stay at the judicial lodges, their host and Senate chairperson Sadiq Sanjrani’s desperation to get his name cleared as a man “aware of moral values” and spell an end to Mr Swati’s plight is quite understandable. Still, no committee of parliamentary leaders–however all-rounded–would fail to serve its purpose if it only carries out an eyewash of an investigation. Treating this invasion of privacy as a solitary incident would be akin to missing the wood for the trees. Wasn’t it just recently that political parties were painting the town red when leaked soundbites from their adversarial camps flashed before the public eye, only to cry “fabrication” when it was their turn to walk the tightrope? Why is it that mainstream voices continue to be burned by such a nefarious peep into their private lives but refuse to pass any legislation about it? Shouldn’t PML(N)’s Maryam Nawaz have demanded an apology when a phone conversation of the former first lady and politically reclusive Bushra Bibi was tapped? Did former human rights minister Shireen Mazari call on the Supreme Court to take suo motu notice of Ms Nawaz’s scathing allegations about cameras installed in her jail cell and bathroom? That constitution’s Article 14 could not be more clear about the inviolability of the dignity of a person and the privacy of the home, has had no effect whatsoever on the impunity enjoyed by those who conduct surveillance on individuals like politicians, journalists and judges. Similarly futile have been repeated efforts by the Supreme Court to outline these red lines. Years before the Western judiciary caught up with the championing of human rights, the Supreme Court had rendered (in the Manzoor Ahmed case) eavesdropping, phone tapping, and photographing something inside someone’s home, invasions of privacy, and, therefore, unconstitutional. This “privacy of home” was even extended to public spaces in the Benazir Bhutto case. If heavy-duty support by both the code and the precedent is still not enough for our ruling elite to muster up courage and thunder: enough is enough, one would be wise to not pin much hope on a changing tide. *