Islamabad once again witnessed controversy on International Women’s Day as activists associated with the Aurat March attempted to gather in the federal capital despite the imposition of Section 144. The Islamabad Police detained several participants for unlawful assembly, sparking criticism from certain quarters that framed the action as a suppression of dissent. Yet the episode raises a more fundamental question: when the law clearly prohibits public gatherings for security reasons, does defying it qualify as activism or simply disregard for the rule of law? Section 144 is not a symbolic regulation. It is a legal instrument invoked by authorities when there are credible security concerns or a need to maintain public order. Once enforced, it applies equally to all citizens regardless of cause or ideology. Any group that knowingly violates such restrictions effectively challenges the writ of the state. In this context, the decision by Aurat March organisers to proceed with a public gathering despite the ban cannot be separated from the legal implications of their actions. The debate also exposes a deeper discomfort many Pakistanis feel with the ideological direction of these marches. Critics argue that the movement increasingly mirrors Western activist templates, importing slogans and agendas that do not necessarily reflect Pakistan’s cultural, social, and legal realities. Instead of presenting practical solutions to women’s genuine issues, such as education, healthcare, workplace participation, and economic empowerment, detractors say the movement often gravitates toward symbolic rhetoric and confrontational messaging that alienates large segments of society. International Women’s Day itself is not controversial in Pakistan.
While the marches claim to represent the voice of women across the country, participation often remains concentrated within a narrow urban circle.
The country has seen steady progress in expanding women’s participation in politics, education, and public life. Women occupy seats in parliament, lead major institutions, serve in the armed forces and judiciary, and play central roles in academia, medicine, and business. Real empowerment, many argue, lies in strengthening these pathways rather than staging spectacles that appear disconnected from the everyday struggles of Pakistani women. Equally troubling for critics is what they describe as selective activism. While the marches claim to represent the voice of women across the country, participation often remains concentrated within a narrow urban circle. Rural women, working-class families, and those outside major metropolitan centres frequently find little reflection of their priorities in the slogans displayed on placards or in the narratives promoted online. The events in Islamabad, therefore, raise two parallel concerns. First is the principle that no cause, regardless of how passionately advocated, can justify ignoring legal restrictions designed to maintain order. Second is the need for introspection within activist circles about whether imported frameworks and slogans genuinely advance the cause of Pakistani women or merely reproduce ideological debates shaped elsewhere. A democratic society certainly allows disagreement, debate, and advocacy. But democratic space also requires respect for the law and sensitivity to the social context in which activism operates. When protests appear to prioritise spectacle over substance and confrontation over constructive dialogue, they risk undermining the very causes they claim to champion. Pakistan’s conversation on women’s rights deserves seriousness, depth, and solutions rooted in the country’s own realities. It cannot be reduced to an imitation of Western activism nor advanced through actions that disregard lawful authority. Real progress will come from grounded reforms, inclusive dialogue, and responsible civic engagement rather than symbolic defiance that deepens divisions.
The writer is a freelance columnist.