he right to dissent and protest is one of the most vital elements of a democratic society. It not only signifies a citizen’s ability to express disagreement but also serves as a mechanism for holding the state functionaries accountable. In Pakistan, the right to dissent and peaceful protest is grounded in the constitutional framework. However, the exercise of these rights is often curtailed by various legal provisions and the way those are interpreted, frequently aligning with political positions.

The constitution enshrines fundamental rights that provide a legal foundation for the right to dissent and peaceful assembly. Article 19 of the constitution guarantees the freedom of speech and expression but subjects it to reasonable restrictions. These restrictions can be imposed in the interest of the “glory of Islam; integrity, security or defence of Pakistan; public order, decency or morality.” While granting this fundamental right, the language of Article 19 leaves significant room for its restriction. This duality reflects a tension that frequently manifests in the practical exercise of free speech.

Similarly, Article 16 guarantees the right to assemble peacefully without arms, a provision that explicitly acknowledges peaceful protest as a legitimate activity. However, like Article 19, the right to assembly is not absolute. It can be restricted when required by considerations for public order or state security. These constitutional safeguards reflect the state’s commitment to fundamental rights, which are also recognised in international legal instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, to which Pakistan is a signatory.

Given these constitutional protections, the exercise of the right to dissent and peaceful protest is extensively regulated by statutory laws that often limit these freedoms. Among the most significant of these statutes is the Pakistan Penal Code, 1860, which contains provisions that address public gatherings and dissent. Sections 141 to 145 of the PPC deal with unlawful assembly and rioting. Section 141 defines an unlawful assembly as one that has a common object to overawe the government, resist legal processes or disturb public peace. This provision might be invoked to regulate violent protests. However, it is sometimes applied to peaceful gatherings as well. Section 147 penalises rioting. Section 148 prescribes punishment for rioting with a deadly weapon. In addition, Section 124A, which deals with sedition, criminalises attempts to excite disaffection against the government. Historically, this provision has been used to suppress dissent, even in cases where criticism of the government remained peaceful and fell within the bounds of democratic discourse.

Further regulation of public assembly and protests can be found in the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1898. Section 144 of the CrPC empowers district authorities to prohibit assemblies and impose restrictions on public gatherings if there is apprehension of public disorder. This provision, framed as a preventive measure, has been widely criticised for being invoked arbitrarily to curb peaceful protests. Section 144 is often used as a legal tool to disperse gatherings, sometimes leading to confrontations between protesters and law enforcement agencies. Another significant statute, the Maintenance of Public Order Ordinance, 1960, allows preventive detention of individuals deemed to be a threat to public peace. This law has been frequently invoked to arrest activists, opposition leaders and other individuals involved in agitation.

The tension between constitutional guarantees and statutory limitations reflects a broader issue in Pakistan’s socio-legal fabric: the state’s prioritisation of public order over fundamental freedoms. This dynamic must be investigated not simply as a matter of law but also as a manifestation of deeper systemic structures that shape governance and authority in the country. Jurist HLA Hart has distinguished between primary rules, which impose obligations, and secondary rules, which establish procedures for creating, modifying and interpreting laws. Laws governing protests and dissent often lack robust secondary rules that ensure fairness, proportionality and accountability in their application. This gap allows these laws to be used as instruments of coercion rather than tools of governance, undermining their legitimacy.

Hart also emphasises the importance of the point of view – where legal norms are not merely followed out of fear of sanctions but are seen as binding by society. In Pakistan, the internalisation of laws regulating dissent is weak, as these laws are often perceived as serving the state’s interest rather than the public good. This perception delegitimises the legal system in the eyes of citizens and fosters a cycle of resistance and suppression. The disconnect between law and social acceptance is not merely a theoretical issue; it is a practical one that exacerbates political polarisation and undermines democratic accountability. Hart’s insights compel us to ask whether the laws in Pakistan serve as a means to balance competing interests in a pluralistic society or as a mechanism to entrench state power at the expense of dissenting voices.

Civil disobedience, while not explicitly protected under law, highlights the failure of formal legal mechanisms to address grievances. Acts of civil disobedience emerge as responses to systemic inequities and the absence of meaningful channels for redress. When legal and political institutions fail to provide avenues for accountability, civil disobedience becomes a language of last resort. This phenomenon is not unique to Pakistan, but a history of authoritarianism and weak democratic institutions renders it particularly susceptible to such resistance. Hart’s framework connotes that when the legal system loses its internal coherence and normative legitimacy, it not only invites disobedience but also risks being seen as an instrument of oppression rather than justice.

The judiciary’s role in mediating these tensions is both significant and contested. On one hand, Pakistani courts have upheld the right to peaceful assembly and condemned excessive state overreach. On the other, judicial interventions have often been inconsistent and influenced by political considerations. The Supreme Court’s recognition of peaceful protests as a fundamental right point to the judiciary’s potential to act as a guardian of constitutional freedoms. However, such rulings have not always translated into consistent protections for citizens. The judiciary’s inconsistent track record reflects the broader challenges of maintaining independence and impartiality in a politically charged environment.

The political climate in Pakistan further complicates the exercise of rights to dissent and protest. Governments, regardless of their ideological leanings, have consistently used legal and extra-legal measures to suppress opposition. The invocation of sedition laws, anti-terrorism statutes and preventive detention reflects a broad pattern of governance that prioritises control over dialogue. This dynamic cannot be understood solely through the lens of legal analysis; it requires a deeper engagement with the political economy of dissent. In Pakistan, dissent is often framed as a threat to national security or public order, allowing the state to justify its actions under the guise of stability. This framing, however, obscures the underlying grievances that drive protests and civil disobedience. Whether these grievances relate to economic inequality, political exclusion, or social injustice, their resolution requires more than legal reform; it demands a reimagining of the relationship between state and citizen.

The right to dissent, protest and participate in civil disobedience in Pakistan exists within a complex interplay of constitutional protections, statutory limitations and political realities. While the constitution provides a foundation for these rights, their practical exercise is frequently curtailed by laws that prioritise public order and state security. Hart’s insights into the legitimacy of laws and the importance of their internalisation highlight the deeper challenges facing Pakistan’s legal system. These challenges are not merely legal or procedural but structural, reflecting the tensions between authority and accountability in a divided society. To move beyond this impasse, Pakistan must not only reform its legal framework but also foster a culture of dialogue and engagement that recognises dissent as a vital component of democracy rather than a threat to it.

The writer is an advocate of High Court, a founding partner at Lex Mercatoria and a visiting teacher at Bahria University’s Law Department. She can be reached at minahil.ali12@yahoo.com