A femicide has brought them together. Across party lines, the National Assembly’s last parliamentary session, saw a show of solidarity among women parliamentarians from most major political parties in a chorus of condemnation of Noor Mukaddam’s murder, the increasing reported incidents of violence against women and the weak implementation of the law. It was a sombre moment, yet one that was truly representative of the sentiments of the ordinary – fearful, angry - women of Pakistan. In the too often felt disconnect between people and those that represent them, this show of solidarity read the pulse of many women and reflected an understanding of the current mood.

Such moments of solidarity for the cause of women have been rare in the National Assembly in the recent past. The last glimpse of women parliamentarians on the floor of the House was controversial and immature - the standing, placard holding protest by PML-N’s women parliamentarians over the 2021 budget was met by an aggressive and confrontational stance by the ruling party’s women parliamentarians. Provincial assemblies have shown more promise. When votes have been cast across party lines, it has been on account of the women’s rights. Last seen in the Punjab Assembly in 2016 during the debate and vote of Punjab Protection of Women Against Violence Bill, women parliamentarians across party lines voted in favour of the Bill, despite male opposition from some political parties. In 2013 and 2014, the Sindh Assembly showed unity, across parties, and voted in favour of penalising domestic violence and increasing the marriageable age to 18 years.

This was an unusual moment in the National Assembly. Condemning violence against women brought to light another reflection of our society’s mood, one that passionately, yet without proper thought, calls for death penalty for anyone who commits a heinous crime. Women parliamentarians, again across party lines, demanded the death penalty for Noor Mukaddam’s killer. After all, knowing details the way we do, who would not call for the harshest punishment? An eye for an eye, a limb for a limb is justice to the lay person, to the person who is angry – and aren’t we all raging? The death penalty to the murderer could presumably bring some sense of solace to the family and to us in some way – the logic being that a hardened criminal is no longer one of us, deserving death for his crimes.

Yet, what women parliamentarians, whose collective role and responsibility is towards all citizens, including women citizen, should not lose sight of this: though the death penalty may rid society of Zahir Jaffer, will it prevent further violence against women or deter other men from committing such crimes? Will the death penalty prevent, or even limit, future cases of violence against women? Will the death of Zahir Jaffer satisfy our raging emotions, yet defy the larger purpose of protecting and preventing future incidents of violence against women? Will the death penalty tackle the systemic issue of a gendered criminal justice system that is failing women, gender discrimination that is rife and rising, the lack of societal accountability of men and the ensuing femicide that has followed? There is also this question for women parliamentarians: with the death of Zahir Jaffer will the thousands of other Zahir Jaffers amongst us – and we all know they exist - be silenced or too afraid to attack and kill other women?

The death penalty and public floggings were a cornerstone of Zia’s ‘Islamic’ regime, promising us that no crime would be committed with ‘strict laws’, such as the Hudood Ordinance, and even stricter punishments. By the measure of the regime’s argument, Zia’s 11 years of rule should have resulted in zero violence against women. We know this has never been the case and this precedent should be the strongest argument in questioning whether a blanket call for the death penalty, or worse, public hanging, is actually effective.

There has been an extreme lack of clarity from the present government. We were promised a national registry of sex offenders, after the motorway rape case, never to be delivered. We have seen a mishmash law through an ordinance on rape, where rape laws were already stronger than other laws on violence. So yet again, a spectacular crime has been committed, there is a call for a spectacular punishment but a deafening silence on deep-rooted, long-term change to societal and state structures to keep women safe.

As women parliamentarians collectively and passionately demand public hangings, we wish for them to unite and collaborate on how to prevent future incidents of femicide including the consistent and public summoning of law enforcement before parliament when cases of violence are not registered by them; the questioning of how effective government-run helplines and shelter homes are; the demand that public awareness campaigns question toxic masculinity in order for violence not to be repeated in younger boys; demand the collection of violence against women cases as official data to be reported to that parliament annually; and the larger question, particularly under this government, of why the national human rights commission and the national and provincial commissions on the status of women are so politicised (the Punjab commission has no chairperson since soon after the take over of the PTI in 2018 and the National Commission has only just appointed a chairperson, an appointment that has contravened the rules) to the point of them becoming ineffective?

What women parliamentarians should remember is how difficult their struggle has been to reach the corridors of power, where structural and societal barriers have held them back, simply because of their gender. The women seats quota and the requirement of the recent amendment to the Election Act require political parties to give 5 percent of tickets on general seats (where women run for elections and are directly elected as opposed to being given an uncontested quota seat) to women parliamentarians. Even the most progressive political parties have often been reluctant to give tickets for general seats to women candidates.

What we want from women parliamentarians is for them not to be drowned by party politics, coming up for breath only when a horrific incidence of violence takes to the airwaves. We, 49 percent of the country’s population, want to feel that we are represented in democratic politics and for women parliamentarians to understand that their primary responsibility must be towards the wellbeing and emancipation of the women of this country. Women representatives should recall and record the achievements of women parliamentarians of the past: some of the strongest bills introduced for women’s protection have been by women parliamentarians across parties. Women’s parliamentary caucuses, at the national and provincial levels, comprising women from all party parties, are permanent, powerful platforms that are used only sporadically in the way they should. Again, and unfortunately, it is party politics that often dominates how the national caucus advocates the agenda for women’s rights.

Guaranteeing women’s rights and addressing violence against women are political issues and require political solutions. Women parliamentarians have an opportunity to go beyond one-off gesture politics to really address the gaps that currently exist and recognise that amending penal code provisions and calling for stricter punishment has not been and will not be effective enough. The tragic murder of Noor Mukaddam has brought them together. What we need now is for them to stay together to make effective, concrete change for us all.

The writer is a barrister whose work focuses on women and

minority rights