Why Regime Change Alone Won’t Restore Free Speech in Pakistan

A palpable silence has fallen across Pakistan, a silence born not of peace, but of profound fear. In an increasingly authoritarian state, the fundamental right to freedom of expression – whether in print, broadcast, or digital spaces – is met with an aggressive legal and digital crackdown. Journalists, activists, and ordinary citizens find themselves navigating a minefield of charge sheets and First Information Reports (FIRs), where silence is often the only perceived safeguard against state wrath. The European Union’s GSP+ assessment for Pakistan succinctly notes the “serious and persistent” limitations on freedom of expression and access to information, painting a grim picture of the nation’s civic space.

It’s tempting to attribute this suffocating climate solely to the current coalition government, whose actions indeed demonstrate a clear disdain for dissent. Warnings against critical foreign policy commentary from the Law Minister, requests to permanently block 27 YouTube channels belonging to journalists, and the empowering of agencies like the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency (NCCIA) to label opposition as “anti-state” are all alarming indicators. Instances of citizens being denied due process, or worse, disappearing without a trace, are a stark reminder of the risks involved in speaking out.

However, framing the issue as merely a “regime problem” risks overlooking a deeper, more entrenched reality. If justice operates as a system, then so too does authoritarianism. Pakistan’s constitutional democracy has perpetually struggled to flourish because the very legal framework inherited and evolved over 78 years often favors the autocrat. This article argues that the current suppression of free speech is not an anomaly of one government, but a systemic issue woven into the fabric of Pakistan’s legal and administrative structure. True liberation of political speech demands not just a change of faces in power, but a fundamental re-evaluation, dissection, and dismantling of this deeply authoritarian system itself.

The Enduring Legacy: Colonial Shackles on Free Expression

To understand the roots of Pakistan’s free speech crisis, one must look to its colonial past. The British Empire, an inherently illegitimate and insecure enterprise, maintained control through a potent combination of violence and legally sanctioned repression. Its primary imperative was control, and this ethos was baked into the very laws it bequeathed. The Indian Penal Code (IPC), adopted and largely unchanged by Pakistan, contained numerous restrictive provisions on speech, all justified under the guise of maintaining “security and order.”

This “inheritance” meant that repression was foundational to the newly independent state’s DNA. What distinguishes contemporary governments is often the enthusiasm with which they embrace and amplify this colonial blueprint.

Sedition (Section 124A, Penal Code): A cornerstone of colonial control, this law targeted anything inciting “bad feelings” against the government. Described by academics as a “masterpiece of uncertainty” and by Mahatma Gandhi as the “prince among the political sections of the Indian Penal Code designed to suppress the liberty of the citizen,” it was routinely used against the independence movement. While Punjab saw its repeal by the Lahore High Court, its spirit, and indeed the law itself in other provinces, persists.

Online Sedition (PECA Amendment Act, 2025): The specter of sedition has found new life in the digital realm. The Prevention of Electronic Crimes (Amendment) Act, 2025, rushed through Parliament, mirrors its colonial predecessor in its vagueness and broad powers to prosecute online commentary. It has become a modern “prince” for controlling digital discourse, primarily serving to shield state officials from criticism and to silence journalists. Its ruthless ambiguity leaves little room for honest reporting, satire, or opinion, with 99 cases filed against journalists for alleged “anti-state activities” between January and July of the previous year alone.

Prohibiting Assembly (Section 144, Criminal Procedure Code): Another colonial “Black Law,” Section 144 grants bureaucracy unchecked power to prohibit public gatherings. The British administration cherished it for its breadth, effectively eliminating political protest by invoking “security risks.” Despite calls for its repeal in India in 1986, Pakistan still wields it routinely, suppressing protests from the Aurat March to solidarity rallies for Gaza, and opposition demonstrations. The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan rightly condemns its use as a “wholly disproportionate restriction on the right to freedom of peaceful assembly,” enabling politically motivated decisions under the veil of necessity.

Preventive Detention: This most violent form of colonial control allows for imprisonment without trial for crimes not yet committed. Throughout Pakistan’s history, various laws—from the Security of Pakistan Act, 1952, and the Maintenance of Public Order Ordinance, 1960 (MPO), to the Anti-Terrorism Act, 1997—have acted as hosts for this “parasite,” traceable back to the East India Company Act of 1793. The MPO, in particular, remains a tool for the Executive to strip citizens of liberty on vague grounds of “public safety,” notoriously used against political opponents. The EU’s GSP+ Assessment observes that such laws risk blurring the line between legitimate law enforcement and enforced disappearances, with reports of over 180 opposition workers detained under the MPO in February of this year alone.

These historical echoes reveal a stark truth: Pakistan’s legal framework has the suppression of speech deeply embedded within it. Any discussion of restoring democracy must confront this system, which has been adopted from the past, revised for the present, and designed as a perilous labyrinth for dissent.

New Systems, New Chains: Modern Innovations for Control

While exorcising the ghosts of the past is crucial, Pakistan also faces new, insidious frameworks designed to eliminate liberty. These must be resisted before they become impossible to dislodge. New laws, like the Punjab Defamation Act, shift the burden of proof onto journalists and impose exorbitant fines, making critical reporting financially untenable. In regions like Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) and Balochistan, the Anti-Terrorism Act, coupled with the “fog of war” and the constant threat of enforced disappearances, stifles any independent voice. Even basic instruments of modern speech, like the internet, are arbitrarily shut down in Azad Jammu and Kashmir, with no accountability.

Ironically, while technology has amplified possibilities for new forms of expression, it has also provided the state with sophisticated tools for unprecedented control. A massive surveillance framework, openly defying constitutional guarantees, operates hand-in-hand with laws criminalizing dissent, creating a regime of control far beyond anything the colonial state could have imagined.

Lawful Intercept Management System (LIMS): Since at least 2007, LIMS has enabled Pakistan’s security apparatus to conduct widespread surveillance of telecommunications activity without court orders or warrants. This “urban legend,” long denied, was finally exposed and declared illegal by Justice Babar Sattar in 2024. However, the 26th and 27th constitutional amendments swiftly suspended this judgment, allowing LIMS to continue monitoring millions. The state’s subsequent notification authorizing ISI officers to intercept calls under Section 54 of the Pakistan Telecommunication (Re-Organization) Act further solidified this legal veneer over what is essentially lawless surveillance.

Web Monitoring System (WMS): Mirroring LIMS in the digital sphere, the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority (PTA) has utilized WMS since 2018 to monitor and censor internet activity. Functioning similarly to China’s “Great Firewall,” it blocks entire social media platforms, throttles internet traffic, and facilitates complete shutdowns. The legal basis for WMS remains opaque, with government and post-27th amendment courts consistently evading questions about its legitimacy. Amnesty International highlights that both LIMS and WMS 2.0 are funded by public money, enabled by foreign technology, and deployed to silence dissent, inflicting severe human rights abuses on Pakistani citizens. This pervasive surveillance creates an environment where fear of exposure permeates private life.

The lived experience of this fear is profound. A Baloch activist described stopping SIM card usage due to fear of forced disappearance, with authorities tracing family phones to locate them. Such surveillance, operating outside any legal regime, chillingly demonstrates the state’s readiness to bypass constitutional limits, directly impeding free expression through arrests, detentions, or by simply obstructing the work of human rights organizations.

The Chilling Effect: A Silence That Suffocates Democracy

Life under a system of repressive laws, constantly threatening deployment against critical speech, inevitably leads to a “chilling effect.” This is the ultimate goal of any authoritarian regime: a populace so intimidated by the potential repercussions of speaking out that self-censorship becomes the norm. This is Pakistan’s reality today. No mere change of government will alter this trajectory until the intertwined systems of past and present repression are fundamentally dismantled.

In Pakistan’s current legal landscape, arresting someone for “anti-state,” “terrorist,” or “false” speech is alarmingly easy. Actual conviction often becomes secondary; the ordeal of court appearances, harassment by law enforcement, and the immense financial burden of legal battles serve as punishment enough. The number of brave individuals willing to risk this ordeal dwindles over time, as the system systematically exhausts the resilience of ordinary citizens.

Adding to this crisis is the deliberate muzzling of the one institution that historically offered some resistance: the independent judiciary. As previously highlighted, the erosion of judicial independence through constitutional amendments has severely aggravated the problem. Where once judges pushed back against draconian ordinances, struck down sedition laws, exposed illegal surveillance (LIMS), or reprimanded overzealous agencies, these same courts now operate under the shadow of a centralized Federal Constitutional Court, their dissenting voices muted.

Without free speech, there can be no genuine democratic system, whether hybrid or otherwise. The current regime will eventually pass, but the precedents it has set—blurring the lines between law and lawlessness, perpetuating systemic repression—will demand a heroic, long-term, and arduous effort to undo. Only by confronting and dismantling this deeply entrenched authoritarian system can Pakistan hope to reclaim its voice, and with it, its true destiny.

Header art by Mohsin Alam.