Sindh Home Minister Zia-ul-Hassan Lanjar has taken notice of two crimes that should have moved the needle without any public uproar. In Sanghar, a woman has reportedly been murdered in the name of “honour” after being declared Kari. Meanwhile, the plight of a teenage girl allegedly raped in Ghotki has gone on to cause a storm on social media, forcing the local police to register an FIR after a delay of two weeks and even after open threats to the survivor and her family. That the minister has sought reports from both SSPs, ordered strict action, and police now claim arrests have been made in both cases, with an inquiry committee constituted for Ghotki, is a necessary response but, as is the case with all official interventions, it forces one to ask the ugliest question sitting at the heart of the matter: why do the authorities so often need a hue and cry to be rattled out of their complacency and remember the law?
There is nothing mysterious about either case. The age-old patriarchal notions of “honour” grant anyone the impunity to brand a woman Kari simply because society refuses to see her as free. In light of police records showing a spike in karo-kari killings in Sindh last year, with most cases involving immediate family members, many analysts view these killings as a raging industry perpetuated by the abhorrent presence of blood money and jirga verdicts. These numbers rise despite chronic under-reporting and despite the 2016 amendments meant to stop murderers from escaping punishment through private forgiveness.
The Ghotki case, as reported, is especially revealing. As if being a female was not an a suffocating ordeal enough in this land of men, being born a poor female, that too, in a rural area ravaged by feudal power, means one has ticked all the boxes of vulnerability.
The charge is yet to be proved in court, but the conduct of the system already stands exposed. If a survivor cannot even get an FIR without pressure from an activist, what protection does the Constitution offer her? Similarly, if the local police first deny a grave allegation involving an influential man, who exactly are they serving?
The state cannot plead ignorance. Figures placed before the National Assembly showed more than 7,500 women murdered from 2021 to 2024, including 1,553 in the name of honour, along with 17,771 rape and gang-rape cases and 173,367 reported incidents of violence against women. A Senate human rights panel has been told that 70 per cent of GBV cases go unreported and that the national conviction rate hovers around five per cent.
The laws exist. There’s no denying that. Yet the first encounter of any victim with the state is still too often shaped by the thana, a feudal dera or a family elder who believes silence is cheaper than justice. Legislation passed in Islamabad means little when a complainant in rural Pakistan has to fight for the right to be heard. *