In a democracy, the ability to question those in power is fundamental to public accountability. Citizens must be able to criticise government decisions, challenge institutional conduct and organise around grievances without fearing arbitrary punishment. But in Pakistan, the expression of dissent carries the risk of arrest, prosecution or prolonged legal proceedings, the consequences extend beyond those directly affected. People begin to reconsider what they can say, publish and whether participating in public life is worth the cost.

In Pakistan, concerns about freedom of expression, the treatment of political opposition and restrictions on civil society have brought this question into sharper focus. The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), in its State of Human Rights in 2025 report, released in May 2026, documented a contraction of civic space and the use of legal and institutional mechanisms against journalists, political workers, activists and lawyers. Human Rights Watch’s World Report 2026: Pakistan similarly documented restrictions on media freedom, political opposition and civil society during 2025.

The state holds the authority to enforce law. But a major concern is, if that law is being exercised lawfully, proportionally and with adequate safeguards, particularly when the dissent is about those, who holds the power.

Between January and August 2025, 689 cases were registered under PECA, nine of them against journalists, according to figures given to a Senate committee. That number tells us less than it seems to, because the full picture is never made public. The government has not released a detailed public list of those charged under the new fake-news offence, and the figures that exist surface in committee briefings, where they do not always match. or the cases against journalists, the reasons are even harder to see. The Senate committee had to ask the Interior Ministry for the complete reasons behind the FIRs against journalists. The grounds that do come out are broad. Journalist Khalid Jamil, for instance, was arrested for allegedly spreading “anti-state narratives”. In a later briefing, NCCIA said that 11 of 13 FIRs against journalists had been cancelled after initial investigation. A count cannot show what a single case does to the person in it: the arrest, the remand and the months of hearings that follow. That is why the cases matter more than the total.

In March 2025, masked men took journalist Waheed Murad from his Islamabad home before dawn. He resurfaced in court and was held for two days under cybercrime law over allegedly “intimidating content”. His family’s petition says he had spoken out about the disappearance of a fellow journalist’s brothers. He got bail two days later.

Similarly, in January 2026 a sessions court sentenced Imaan Mazari and Hadi Ali Chattha to 17 years each over posts on X. The court found the posts backed proscribed groups and eroded trust in state institutions, while Amnesty International called it retaliation for their human rights work and pointed to the lack of due process. On 17 September, after nearly eight months in jail, the Supreme Court suspended the sentences and granted them bail, expressing displeasure at repeated adjournments in the Islamabad High Court. Within hours, police arrested them again inside Adiala Jail in a separate case, and on 29 October an anti-terrorism court sentenced them to 10 years each for allegedly removing security barriers and obstructing police during a cricket team’s visit to Islamabad in 2024. They deny the charges, and their family says they will challenge the verdict in the Supreme Court.

It has carried into this year. In June 2026 the cybercrime agency arrested journalist Sohrab Barkat over YouTube reports on protests in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, months after he had spent 100 days in jail without charge.

Ordinary users are caught too. On 24 January 2025, the day after the National Assembly passed the PECA amendments, police in Pakpattan, Punjab, arrested a WhatsApp group administrator. Another member had posted an insulting message about Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz. The FIR does not say the administrator wrote it; it says he knew the post was offensive, did not delete it, and so let other members see it. Police confirmed the arrest, made under the older Section 20 of PECA, which covers offences against a person’s dignity. He was not a journalist or an activist. He ran a chat group. Anyone who moderates a family, neighbourhood or class group can see the problem: if you are answerable for what others type, the safest group is a silent one.

This is how the fear spreads beyond the courtroom. HRW found that journalists and civil society groups were resorting to self-censorship in 2025, and HRCP described a climate of fear that limits public discussion and keeps rights violations out of view. Courts do sometimes push back: in June 2025 a magistrate ordered 27 YouTube channels shut, many run by independent journalists, and a higher court later struck the order down. But that kind of relief is slow and uncertain. Mazari and Chattha, two lawyers who knew the courts better than most, still spent nearly eight months in jail before the Supreme Court suspended their sentences, and few people have that kind of legal support or time. Add a law with, in the words of digital rights advocate Farieha Aziz, no clear guidelines on what counts as a violation, and silence starts to look like the safest option. That is the part case numbers cannot show. For every journalist who is arrested, others quietly decide not to publish, and for every activist who is charged, many more choose to stay home rather than risk it. Nobody records those decisions, so the real cost of these laws is far greater than the figures suggest.

The state can and should act against incitement or false information, and four changes would let it do so. First, Section 26-A should be repealed or rewritten with a tight definition of the offence; HRCP has called for repeal, and the Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists has challenged the law in the Islamabad High Court. Second, enforcement data should be published every year, covering the offences alleged, who complained and how each case ended; the 689 figure became public through a Senate committee briefing, however, the data shouldn’t wait for the Senate committee briefing to become public. Third, the safeguards already written into Article 10 deserve to be enforced: grounds of arrest given promptly, a lawyer of one’s choice and a magistrate within 24 hours, with bail pleas heard quickly. Finally, the law has to apply the same way to everyone, whichever party or cause they speak for.

About the Author:
 Momal Nawab is Program Officer at Accountability Lab Pakistan and can be reached at momal@accountabilitylab.org