Death of law

This was a bad week for rule of law in Pakistan, even by the country’s admittedly low standards. Once again, people have been reminded about how easily a single accusation can ruin and end lives, just how quickly an angry mob will form demanding blood, and just how easily authorities will either bend to this mob, stay out of its way or, in some cases, even act as executioner. The latter is what happened in Quetta on September 12 when a police constable killed a man accused of blasphemy while he was under custody. Then came the death of a doctor in Umerkot, Sindh, facing similar accusations as the accused in Quetta, last week – also at the hands of the police. Before the accused doctor was killed, there were violent protests in Umerkot, calling for strict action against the doctor. In the wake of the incident, the Sindh government has suspended the Mirpurkhas DIG police and SSP and other officials for mishandling the case and for an alleged fake encounter. It takes more than a uniform to make a police officer more than just another man with a gun and it appears to be becoming increasingly harder to distinguish the police from those they are meant to be policing in this country. Meanwhile, the previous week saw a Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) Special Court judge sentence a Christian woman to death, inviting comparisons to the infamous Asia Bibi case.

Vigilantism and mob violence appear to have become so deeply embedded in the social fabric that even those charged with upholding the law can get caught up in reactionary bloodlust. This calls for a closer look into how exactly our police officers are trained and whether they have full understanding of the country’s laws before they are charged with enforcing them. It, of course, does not help that the police force is one of the most chronically underfunded, under-resourced and neglected institutions. As a result, the police in this country often have to bend or ignore the rules in order to get the job done. This creates a culture where undermining the law becomes a routine offence and the rules cease to command much value. However, it is not just the authorities that are used to ignoring the law in Pakistan. Faced with an outdated, backlogged system that rarely, if ever, delivers justice for ordinary people, there are those who have come to think that true justice requires acting outside the law. The inability of the authorities to help those seeking justice fosters the mentality that one must take matters into their own hands. These are the origins of mob or vigilante justice.

But the problems with the Pakistani justice system run deeper than a dysfunctional system that routinely results in the miscarriage of justice. This leads to a system rife with abuse and one that perpetuates social inequality by favouring the rich while disadvantaging the poor and minorities. When those supposed to be upholding the law are this broken, where exactly are people to go in order to find justice and protection?