Opinion | Pakistan’s war on women: Honour killings, Rape, and the Failure of Justice

While reforms draw headlines, unchecked patriarchy and institutional neglect keep daughters vulnerable, stealing their freedom, learning and the dignity every human deserves

In June 2025, a twenty-one-year-old Christian woman, Sheeza Bibi became the symbol of longstanding age-old issues of gender and faith-based violence in Pakistan. She was gang-raped in her home while her four-year-old daughter was forced to witness the horrific act taking place. Sheeza’s husband had been tricked away under false pretences, leaving his wife and daughter defenseless. When Sheeza and her husband attempted to seek justice for the sexual violence, the police humiliated them, told them what to write in an FIR, and offered bribes to keep silent. She later said, “We were helpless. I want them punished so no woman suffers like I did.”

Sheeza’s ordeal is far from an isolated incident. Earlier in 2025, Maria Nadeem was raped in Lahore, Mina Sadiq was assaulted in Muridke, and Asma in Sialkot was gang-raped by someone she trusted. Farhat Bibi, a mother of five in Mian Channu, was attacked in her own home. One of the most heartbreaking narratives belongs to Uzma Bibi. In December of 2024, Uzma was kidnapped with another woman at gunpoint. After she was converted and married, against her will, her murdered body was discovered in a Canal. The coverage we see about violence against women demonstrates a pattern: women, especially in minority communities in Pakistan, are murdered because of their faith and or identity, and the people and institutions obligated to protect them are the ones that often let them down.

Pakistan is now exposed as a country at war with its own women. While cosmetic reforms and progressive rhetoric are advertised, the reality is an inhuman battleground of violence, misogyny, and betrayal. Women everywhere continue to be murdered, raped, silenced, and denied justice, not just by their families and communities, but by the very institutions that should be protecting them from violence. This is not simply bad luck; it is systematic, entrenched, and based on patriarchal norms reproduced by political cowardice.

Among the most horrifying practices are honour killings. Each year, between 300 and 1,000 women are executed by their families not in crimes of passion, but in deliberate acts designed to punish independence and enforce patriarchal control. The killings of young women such as Arak and Sheetal are part of a larger, predictable pattern in which love, marriage, or small acts of self-determination become punishable by death. Murder in Pakistan is often disguised as tradition, softened by media narratives as a “tragedy,” and excused by law enforcement as a “family matter.”

The legal reforms in 2016 aimed to shut loopholes and ensure killers would receive punishment rather than escaping accountability by invoking forgiveness laws, but have not been successful. Families still protect murderers, Tribal councils and jirgas continued to approve of killings in the name of honour killings. Most politicians still lack the resolve to directly challenge the patriarchal system of the ruling elite, enriching themselves by maintaining male supremacy. For every case that receives national media coverage, there are dozens hidden, buried in chaos and silence in rural and urban contexts. A country where hundreds of women are murdered each year with no accountability, punishment or consequence cannot consider itself civilized. There is nothing honourable about murder; only shame and that shame is entirely Pakistan’s.

Violence against women is not simply limited to honour killings. Survey data consistently show that most women in Pakistan have experienced physical or psychological abuse in the home, even though the response of society is to ignore these abuses as private matters. Justice is frequently slow, unresponsive or antagonistic: There are few publicly funded shelters for women; shelters that are stigmatized and largely out of reach. Women of minority faiths exist in double jeopardy of being targeted because of gender and religion.

Child marriage and lack of education further exacerbate the war on women. Despite laws prohibiting it, thousands of girls are married before they turn eighteen, particularly in rural areas where education is curtailed. Early marriage traps girls in cycles of early motherhood, economic dependency, and curtailed personal development. Due to poverty, social conventions, or extremist violence, millions of girls remain out of school. The 2012 shooting of Malala Yousafzai serves as a poignant reminder of the dangers faced by girls in pursuit of their fundamental right to education.

The complete disintegration of the protective structure in Pakistan is apparent. The laws are in place but not enforced; the forgiveness provision in the penal code releases murderers from punishment; tribal jirgas and informal councils issue religious edicts that regard women as property, while politicians look for the easy route, afraid of hitting a nerve with their conservative base. Religious authorities sometimes say nothing or worse, defend violent acts. The texts of the legislation can impress the international community, but in real life, women bleed in private courtyards.

The country’s failure is made worse by its stance on the world stage. Pakistan consistently expresses its identity as a victim of others’ conspiracies, which shifts the discussion away from its failings as a country. No foreign power can order fathers to murder their daughters, brothers to burn their sisters, or police to shame a victim of rape. These are crimes of the homeland supported by culture, tradition and the state’s complicity. International actors also share this blame: by delivering aid packages, diplomatic handshakes and meaningless pronouncements that discuss accountability. The result is impunity and silence. The human toll of this structural failure is immense. Women like Sheeza Bibi, Uzma Bibi, Arak and Sheetal are assassinated, raped or silenced. Minority women are doubly vulnerable, facing targeted attacks and systemic neglect. Honour killings, domestic abuse, forced conversions, child marriage, and restricted education are all part of a broader strategy whether intentional or systemic of subjugating half the population. Meanwhile, cosmetic reforms and high-profile statements by politicians serve more to impress global audiences than to protect women on the ground.

The fact is undeniable: Pakistan is not merely failing its women, it is breaking them. Women are killed for love, raped openly, forced into marriage, and attacked for their faith, while politicians parade superficial reforms. Until laws are enforced in practice, until society rejects violence disguised as tradition, and until the state assumes real accountability, the war on women will continue.

Today, Pakistan is a patriarchy grounded in blood and silence. And every day its daughters pay the price. Unless the country confronts this harsh reality, more stories like Sheeza’s, Uzma’s, Arak’s, and Sheetal’s will multiply, their cries swallowed by a system that prioritizes betrayal over justice. Each delay, each gap, and each silence guarantees that the next generation of women will be entrapped in cycles of violence, oppression, and fear.

The global community, Pakistani lawmakers and civil society must begin advocating for accountability, implementing legal tools, securing the education for girls, and dismantling structures that support the condition of patriarchy that persists today. Only in this way can Pakistan put an end to the bloodshed and begin to protect its daughters whose systems have failed for far too long now.

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