When women parliamentarian moved for leave to introduce the Constitution (Amendment) Bill, 2025, seeking changes to Articles 51 and 106, it was easy for many to dismiss the motion as routine parliamentary business.
The Order of the Day moved on, the debate subsided and the bill did not dominate headlines. Yet behind that small procedural act lies a much bigger question that Pakistan can no longer ignore how to transform women’s political representation from token numbers on paper into real, substantive power inside our legislatures and political parties.
Articles 51 and 106 shape the very architecture of Pakistan’s legislatures. Article 51 sets the composition of the National Assembly at 336 members in total, including 60 reserved seats for women and 10 for non-Muslims. Article 106 lays out similar quotas for provincial assemblies. These provisions, born of the 1973 constitution, were meant as corrective measures, ensuring women and minorities had a guaranteed voice in a polity long dominated by men and majoritarian politics.
But half a century on, these seats have become ceilings rather than springboards. Women now make up roughly 20 per cent of Pakistan’s legislators, though they constitute nearly half of the population. The most recent World Bank data show that women hold barely 9.4 per cent of ministerial positions. The symbolism of reserved seats is undeniable, but the substance of power-sharing remains elusive.
The gap is not only conceptual but practical. Fafen’s March 2025 gender assessment of the National Assembly reported that nearly one-third of women’s reserved seats, 19 in total, remained vacant more than a year after the general election. Additional reserved seats for women in Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and seats for non-Muslims nationwide, were also left unfilled. These vacancies represent millions of citizens left without a voice in parliament. A constitutional promise demonstrates how fragile ‘guaranteed representation’ becomes when not backed by robust mechanisms for enforcement.
The irony is that Pakistani women are far from politically apathetic. In fact, their choices matter enormously. Fafen’s January 2025 report on women’s voting patterns during the 2024 general elections, based on data from over 21,000 comparable communities, found that in 18 per cent of constituencies, women voted differently from men, and in several urban constituencies, those divergences proved decisive. In Islamabad, for instance, women’s distinct voting choices tipped the balance in competitive races. Yet, despite proving their electoral weight, women remain marginal inside the structures of political parties that decide who gets to contest elections in the first place.
Gallup Pakistan’s polling further underscores this paradox. In 2020, 62 per cent of respondents nationwide expressed optimism about gender equality in politics, with particularly strong support among younger voters. More recent polling confirms this societal readiness. Citizens want women to lead. It is political gatekeeping, not public sentiment, that keeps them sidelined.
Inside parliament, the story is the same: women show up and deliver. Fafen’s attendance scorecard for January 2025 showed women MNAs consistently outperforming their male colleagues in presence during the ninth to twelfth sessions of the National Assembly. In legislative activity, women regularly introduce a disproportionate share of private member bills, raise more questions, and move more resolutions than their numbers predict. The data is consistent: when given space, women prove their effectiveness. When denied it, Pakistan loses legislative capacity.
If constitutional quotas provide entry into legislatures, party structures are the locked gates that block further progress. SDPI’s paper ‘Raising Her Voice in Political Parties’ paints a sobering picture. Most parties maintain women’s wings with little influence; candidate selection is monopolised by elites and decision-making forums are rarely gender inclusive. Sections 207 and 208 of the Elections Act 2017 contain no binding quotas. Section 206 requires only five per cent of tickets go to women – and even that is often gamed by assigning unwinnable constituencies.
SDPI calls for amending these clauses to mandate at least one-third representation of women in all party organs and revising Section 202 to require that one-third of a party’s minimum 2,000 enlistment members be women. Without statutory reforms, constitutional guarantees risk becoming just numbers.
Pildat’s 2025 performance assessments add another layer. Their report on the 16th National Assembly and 2024–25 Senate shows that institutional rules – like attendance monitoring and question hours – boost outcomes. The lesson is clear: what gets measured, mandated and enforced, gets done.
This debate also cannot be divorced from the broader gender gap in Pakistan. The WIN Worldviews 2025 survey on gender roles found one of the largest global gaps in household labour distribution, with women disproportionately burdened by unpaid work that limits their civic and political engagement. These imbalances are not private matters alone; they are public deficits that suppress political participation and representation.
Pakistan must now approach reform on two parallel tracks. The first is constitutional. Parliament should revisit Articles 51 and 106 to ensure that reserved seats are both preserved and filled in a timely fashion, insulating them from electoral disputes or delays. This will protect the minimum guarantee of women’s representation.
The second is statutory. The Elections Act 2017 must be amended to mandate one-third representation of women in all party organs and to strengthen enforcement of the five per cent ticket allocation. Without binding requirements in Sections 202, 207, and 208, women will remain dependent on party leaderships for nominations rather than empowered as political actors in their own right.
There will be objections. Some will claim that merit is undermined by quotas. But merit in Pakistan’s politics is already warped by dynasties, patronage networks and financial barriers. Reserved seats and quotas are corrective, not distortive. Others will argue that political parties are voluntary associations and should self-regulate. But parties are also public institutions, subsidised by state resources and entrusted with nominating candidates who govern millions. Their inclusivity is a democratic necessity.
Leaving this agenda unattended has real consequences. When one-third of reserved seats remain vacant for a year, millions of Pakistanis are deprived of representation. When women are excluded from decision-making boards, half the country’s perspectives are absent from candidate lists and manifestos. When women voters diverge from men in nearly one-fifth of constituencies, but see few women candidates to represent their choices, political alienation deepens. This is not just about fairness; it is about the legitimacy and effectiveness of Pakistan’s democracy.
The Constitution (Amendment) Bill 2025 for Articles 51 and 106, even if forgotten in the Order of the Day, should be revived as part of a broader conversation. It is not sufficient on its own, but it is necessary. Paired with reforms to the Elections Act 2017, it could mark a turning point in Pakistan’s democratic journey. Parties would be compelled to democratise internally, the legislature would better reflect the country’s population and governance would benefit from a broader pool of leadership.
Today, Pakistan faces a choice: to remain content with token quotas or to embrace a constitutional moment that turns representation into real power. The citizens are ready. The data is clear. The question is whether the lawmakers will rise to the occasion.
The writers are associated with the Sustainable Development Policy Institute (SDPI), Islamabad. The article doesn’t necessarily represent the views of the organization.
