It is shameful enough that this country has a gender-based violence (GBV) epidemic on its hands. It is even more disconcerting that a significant subset of this violence is dressed up in the language of ‘honour’, where both male and female victims, the latter in particular, are somehow blamed for having brought their murders upon themselves. But what does it say when the perpetrators of this heinous violence openly film themselves in the act of shooting their innocent victims? This appears to be what transpired in Balochistan’s Dagari area, on the outskirts of Quetta, with a gruesome viral video emerging over the weekend showing several men shooting a woman and a man in what is said to be an honour killing. The couple were reportedly shot dead on the orders of a local tribal jirga last month. The authorities have arrested 13 people, including the prime suspect, thus far and have also said that both families did not report the incident but the state became a complainant and a case has been registered on its behalf. A judicial magistrate in Quetta has also reportedly ordered the exhumation of the woman’s body. The chief minister of the province has also stated that any parallel justice systems and jirgas will be stopped and are not supported, emphasising the supremacy of the constitution.
While the state has encouragingly said it would like to uphold the constitution, it must be noted that it has struggled to stop both parallel justice and violence against women thus far. The epidemic of GBV throughout the country has been one the legal system has largely failed to cope with. According to the Sustainable Social Development Organisation (SSDO) 2024 report ‘Mapping Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in Pakistan’, the conviction rates for violent crimes against women stand below two per cent. From January to November, a total of 346 people fell victim to ‘honour’ crimes in the country. The previous two years also saw a consistent rise in murders related to the so-called ‘honour’. As such, there seems to be a general inability on the part of the legal system to protect women from violence and punish their tormentors. Recently, the Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Pakistan (SOGP) expressed grave concerns over the alarming rise in violence against women, including female healthcare professionals, and warned that such incidents are directly contributing to worsening maternal health outcomes in the country.
In many, if not most, cases honour violence is perpetrated by the very families and neighbours of the victims, which does somewhat explain why the state struggles to secure convictions in such cases. The pressure not to report the crime, the collective silence and the ingrained notion that this is simply not a realm the authorities should interfere in create formidable barriers when it comes to achieving a successful prosecution. The fact that the perpetrators in this incident had the audacity to film themselves shows the level of impunity attached to this form of violence. However, regardless of how tall the barriers are, they are ones the state still needs to overcome and it is encouraging to see the Balochistan authorities treating this case as seriously as they are. Aside from stiff punishments for the guilty and higher conviction rate, policymakers must also think about how to change attitudes towards personal autonomy in the country. The fact is that, while men do also fall victim to honour-based violence, it is women who bear the crushing weight of expectations tied to their bodies, their marriages, their autonomy, their very existence. Their choices are policed, their movements monitored, and their silence enforced – all in the name of preserving some abstract notion of honour that is never applied equally. Why is it that our society remains so threatened by a woman who asserts her agency? Why must her independence or her yearning for love become grounds for her murder?