In the sprawling digital landscape of Pakistan, a new form of resistance is quietly taking shape, not on the streets, but on the screens of smartphones and computers. Behind the hashtags and viral posts lie communities of individuals who are leveraging social media not just to vent frustrations, but to document injustices, challenge power structures, and call for reforms in a justice system – many see it as irreparably broken.
Digital resistance, once the domain of tech-savvy activists in the Global North, has found fertile ground in the Global South. In Pakistan, where historical legacies of authoritarianism, ethnic marginalisation, and judicial inefficiency persist, social media has become an alternate arena for contesting power. The linguistic forms this digital public sphere takes, and the deep-seated mistrust it reveals, offer a window into a society grappling with systemic dysfunction.
In places like the United States, online activism often intersects with established legal and civic institutions, with protests sometimes resulting in legislative change.
Unlike the more restrained reformist discourse typical of digital movements in the Global North, such as Black Lives Matter or MeToo, Pakistan’s digital resistance, inter alia, #Voice of Baluchistan, #Pashtun Long March, #Voice of South Punjab, and #The Sindhi Narrative, is raw, angry, and often corrosive. The language used in these hashtag movements is infused with satire, slurs, violent metaphors, and emotionally charged appeals. These linguistic categories reflect the urgency of the grievances and the perceived futility of traditional avenues of redress.
In our recent publication “Language of resistance and social justice: a case study of Pakistani digital ethnic speech communities” in the Routledge Handbook of Language and Social Media, three recurring categories emerged in the digital discourse, such as ethnocentrism, sociocultural dissonance, and institutional mistrust under the language of resistance theme. Ethnic communities, long sidelined by dominant political narratives, have found in social media a platform to assert their identities and call out discriminatory practices. The language used in these assertions often pits one ethnic group against another or state institutions, creating a new but volatile space for intergroup dialogue.
Cultural norms, especially those that perpetuate gender discrimination or class-based exclusion, are also frequent targets. Women and other marginalised voices are employing digital storytelling, satire, and defiant commentary to reject norms that have silenced them in conventional public spaces. These expressions are not always polished or civil; instead, they are urgent and unfiltered, more digital scream than academic critique.
But the most profound aspect of this online resistance is the widespread distrust of institutions, particularly the judiciary, police, and military. Posts often contain allegations of judicial corruption, illegal detentions, and abuse of power, paired with direct calls for reform. In a nation where mainstream media is heavily monitored and state narratives dominate public discourse, social media offers a space to question, to expose, and to reimagine justice.
Yet resistance is not without risk. The use of violent or offensive language carries the potential to deepen polarisation and spread misinformation. Without formal education in media literacy or digital ethics, many users are ill-equipped to navigate the blurred line between justified anger and harmful speech, as is the case with the viral video of Chacha Sajid from Lahore. This digital slur, while highlighting social problems, also threatens social norms if not tempered by critical reflection and ethical restraint.
Nevertheless, the impact of digital resistance is becoming harder to ignore. In several instances, online outrage has forced the mainstream media and courts to take notice. Viral hashtags have brought attention to cases of police brutality, gender-based violence, and land-grabbing scandals. In a system where conventional paths to justice are slow, inaccessible or expensive, going viral has become a pathway to seek attention and eventually accountability.
The call for judicial reform resonates throughout digital spaces. Users are demanding more than just fair trials; they want a system that is transparent, inclusive, and free from political interference. There is an insistence on the right to speak freely, to criticise institutions without fear, and to be heard not just as data points in a trending topic but as citizens with legitimate claims to justice.
Digital movements in the Global North are instructive. In places like the United States, online activism often intersects with established legal and civic institutions, with protests sometimes resulting in legislative change. In Pakistan, digital resistance is more of a survival strategy, a way to remain visible in a system that has historically rendered many invisible.
Despite the risks and limitations, the emergence of digital citizenship in Pakistan marks a shift in the public imagination. It suggests that justice need not be confined to courtrooms and that democracy, however flawed, still has digital avenues for renewal. These platforms, chaotic and contested as they may be, are becoming arenas where the future of civic engagement is being negotiated in real time.
As more regions gain internet access, and as the boundaries between online and offline life continue to blur, Pakistan’s digital resistance may offer a preview of the battles to come. Battles not only for justice and reform but for the right to speak, to dissent, and to imagine a more equitable society.
While freedom of expression is a fundamental right for every digital citizen, it is subject to considerations of morality and civility. Until this understanding is embraced, incivility is likely to occur in digital spaces.
The first author is a Professor of English at Riphah International University, Lahore. He is a lead guest editor at Emerald and Springer publishing.
The second author is an Assistant Professor of English at Govt. Graduate College for Women, Samanabad, Lahore