Legally, Pakistan has some of the largest body of laws to penalise crimes against women, including sexual harassment, stripping a woman, rape, ‘honour’ crimes, the exchange of women or girls to settle a dispute and forced marriage. All four provincial assemblies have passed laws on domestic violence and Sindh has ensured that the marriageable age for both men and women is 18 years. With the relentless advocacy of women’s rights groups and activists, successive governments have ensured that the Penal Code is now equipped with enough laws to punish the wrongdoers. It would, therefore, be safe to say that though some laws can be amended to eliminate loopholes, Pakistan has a more or less sufficient legal framework to address crimes against women. Why then is there a stark void between the law books and the lived reality of women?

This is where illusions come into play. Optical illusions look something like this: law heavy, yet no protection against violence nor is real justice delivered; when a brave woman does bring a sexual harassment case, a long, drawn out criminal case of defamation is brought against her, tying her to the courts system for years; an Islamic republic whose advocates discuss the place of women in Islam as on a pedestal yet where women are violated regularly and denied rights likes lawful inheritance; where the concept of fasad-fil-arz (its definition according to the Penal Code, the previous and present conduct of the alleged offender, where the shocking manner in which an offence has been committed outrages public conscience) is in the law books but rarely invoked in judgments against perpetrators of brutal violence against women and girls; where constitutional guarantees are watertight but no one is really aware of them; where a prime minister tells foreign reporters women in no country enjoy more respect and dignity than his, when in reality those concepts are used to control and police women into submission and out of public space – we have so much respect for you, we prefer that you stay behind closed doors.

There is no doubt that we need law as an essential tool to fix a problem. What we, including law and policy makers, forget, however, is that the law is merely one part of the solution. The criminal justice system, which comprises law enforcement, medico-legal professionals, forensics, prosecutors, the judiciary and the prison system are all important pieces of the puzzle that need fixing from deeply rooted structural inequalities, before actual, true justice can be realised. Social media has amplified the horrific cases of Saima Ali, Qurratulain Baloch, Noor Mukadam and there is no doubt that social media is the reason for a proactive response from the police. In many other cases, the police are unwilling to entertain disputes, particularly complaints of domestic violence, even when severe violence is evident, as the belief that those crimes are private matters trumps any order passed down to them.

The justice system is not necessarily flawed in its design. Its rusty, old parts, when functioning, work for the elite, the rich and the powerful. And when crimes are committed against women, the system works for men only. It also looks for chances that can create fallacies – an outrageous crime of stabbing someone 23 times has led to the offender’s early release for good behaviour. Surely, the provincial government’s mandate and rules that allow for it to take into account prisoner’s rights should also weigh in the outrage and fear such a crime caused. The whole system is working for patriarchy, supporting male perpetrators when crimes against women take place. The few legal victories that we celebrate are anomalies, not standard, mainstream functioning of the criminal justice system. Currently, when the system works, it is only going through the motions; a system that is merely delivering process and fulfilling procedure (due mainly to the social media spotlight), not delivering justice. Nor is it being a catalyst for the much needed breaking of societal barriers around our understanding of violence against women.

A difficult, fearful week has just passed for the women of Pakistan. We are looking and watching for responses from state institutions and those in power to finally provide more than just a law to show their resolve. In addition to law making, we need the government and the state to challenge the culture that allows violence and demand that the Executive be accountable when they misuse their powers and ignore the law. If the past week is anything to go by it is clear that the illusion that women in Pakistan are safe and respected has now well and truly been shattered. Rebuilding it will require more than gestures and lawmaking.

The writer is a barrister, working in Islamabad, whose work focuses on women and minority rights