n the early hours of February 17, 2024, Pakistanis attempting to access Twitter, now rebranded as X, were met with an unsettling surprise: the platform was inaccessible. This sudden blackout came without prior notice, leaving millions of users in digital limbo. As confusion spread, both the government and the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority remained conspicuously silent, neither confirming nor denying involvement in the disruption.

Despite widespread reports and mounting public outcry, the PTA and government representatives offered no explanations, leaving citizens and digital rights activists to speculate about the reasons behind the censorship. It wasn’t until April 17, a full two months later, that the Interior Ministry broke its silence, acknowledging that access to X had been blocked due to “national security concerns.”

Upon closer examination, the argument that blocking X was necessary for national security falls apart. If anything, shutting down one of the country’s most widely used digital platforms actually undermined national security rather than protecting it. Social media platforms like X serve as real-time information networks, allowing citizens, journalists and security agencies to track developments, report emergencies and counteract misinformation with verified facts. By cutting off access, the government not just limited political discourse, it also removed a critical channel for crisis communication, disaster response and public awareness. The ban did not prevent misinformation from spreading; it simply drove it underground, forcing people to rely on unverified sources and encrypted messaging apps, where rumours fester with less oversight.

Importantly, in a world where security threats are often digital in nature, blocking a major communication platform weakened Pakistan’s ability to monitor and respond to both internal and external challenges. If the real concern was security, a smarter move would have been to enhance digital engagement and transparency, not suppress it. This is particularly relevant given the government’s repeated claims that foreign actors are using X as their primary platform to spread disinformation about Pakistan from outside the country. Yet, instead of countering these narratives with facts, transparency and stronger digital engagement, the state chose to shut down the platform entirely. This move not only silenced local voices but also left the field wide open for those very foreign actors to dominate the conversation unchecked. If the goal was to protect Pakistan’s image, blocking access to X only ensured that the country’s citizens, journalists and institutions had no voice in shaping global perceptions, effectively ceding control of the narrative to external forces.

The suspension of X didn’t just give the disinformation-spreaders an edge, it also created an uneven field for credible journalists who could have played a pivotal role in fact-checking. As a result, the journalists who rely on real-time updates and source verification find themselves sidelined, unable to correct misleading claims as they spread. Fact-checkers, too, lost a vital tool for debunking propaganda before it takes root. With only Pakistani users locked out, the government did not curb disinformation, it strengthened it, allowing external voices to dominate the conversation while silencing those best equipped to challenge them.

On the other hand, X remains notoriously unresponsive to online harms, particularly when it comes to harassment, abuse and coordinated attacks against women and marginalised groups. Its content moderation policies operate in a black box, with little transparency and almost no meaningful engagement with affected communities. Reaching their teams for urgent intervention is often an exercise in futility. For instance, the disinformation targeting Aurat March has repeatedly put them in harm’s way. Human rights defenders, journalists and feminists have been exposed to relentless online abuse, with little to no recourse from the platform itself. Yet, shutting down X in Pakistan does nothing to fix this problem. The hate campaigns continue and the perpetrators remain active. However, the voices that could push back are the ones silenced. Instead of demanding better moderation and accountability from the platform, the government’s approach only removes the ability of Pakistani users to counter harmful narratives and protect those under attack.

There is, however, a silver lining: the idea that shutting down platforms would somehow stop disinformation was always a stretch, but time has completely shattered that myth. If anything, the months without X proved that false narratives not just persisted, they thrived. Take the fabricated rape case in the Punjab, for example, which spread like wildfire, fuelling outrage, protests and clashes before it was finally admitted that there was no truth to it. Or the “massacre” in Islamabad, where misleading reports fuelled panic before anyone could verify what had actually happened.

Turns out, misinformation doesn’t need X to exist, it just finds new, often more chaotic, ways to spread. Instead of controlling the narrative, the shutdown only made it harder for journalists and fact-checkers to counter lies, leaving the stage wide open for unchecked hysteria.

To put it plainly, platforms like X can undoubtedly fuel disinformation, especially disinformation that is designed to incite violence and cause harm. It’s also clear why authorities would want to control the narrative, shaping public perception or countering opposing narratives. But in the battle of narratives, the moment you resort to shutting down a platform, you already concede defeat. Cutting off access isn’t a show of strength; it’s an admission that your own narrative isn’t strong enough.

The writer is the director and founder of Media Matters for Democracy. He writes on media and digital freedoms, media sustainability and countering misinformation