LAST week in Islamabad, something rare happened. Judges, police officers, prosecutors, lawyers, policymakers, and rights experts gathered: not in the usual posture of mutual suspicion or institutional self-preservation, but in a shared moment of reckoning. Hosted by the National Commission for Human Rights (NCHR), with support from UNDP and the European Union, the conference titled ‘From Promise to Action: Advancing SDG 16 for Justice and Reform’ attempted an honest appraisal of the justice system, its myriad failures, and what it would take to do better.

We came together to ask a blunt question: how can we build a justice system that works for all Pakistanis: not only the connected, not only the wealthy, not only the men?

For decades, Pakistan’s legal and judicial apparatus has been held hostage by archaic laws, procedural absurdities, and deep structural neglect. It has rendered justice both elusive and exhausting. Yet, in those two days, something shifted. The tone of the discussions — frank, attentive, unembellished — reflected a shared discomfort with the status quo.

Everyone acknowledged the wide gulf between what is promised on paper and what is experienced in courtrooms, police stations, and prisons across the country. Hard truths surfaced. The exclusionary nature of the legal system, especially for women, religious minorities, the working class, and anyone without institutional backing, was put on record. We spoke of the criminalisation of poverty through laws inherited from colonial administrators who saw the poor as a threat to be managed, not as citizens to be served. Vagrancy laws, the rampant overuse of incarceration, and the disregard for rehabilitation were not treated as unfortunate side effects but as central features of the problem.

The challenge is the lack of collective resolve to act on ideas.

Yet there was also clarity, even imagination. Participants moved beyond diagnosis and began to outline the architecture of a better system. We spoke of rethinking policing; replacing violent, extractive models with public-centred frameworks grounded in rights and accountability. There was talk of strengthening oversight bodies, overhauling training protocols, and making space for independent community input. Judicial reforms, including the expansion of specialised courts for gender-based violence, were paired with legal aid proposals that included mandatory pro bono requirements; measures meant to shift the burden away from survivors and those least able to navigate the system.

Perhaps the most urgent conversations focused on incarceration. Pakistan’s prisons remain packed with undertrial prisoners, many of them young, poor, and legally invisible. The Juvenile Justice System Act, passed years ago, remains dormant in many parts of the country. The idea that punishment should be the last resort, not the default, has still not taken root. We heard proposals for income-sensitive bail systems, the revival of probation and parole, and community-level restorative justice approaches. Hence, the challenge is never a lack of ideas, but always the collective resolve to act on them.

The NCHR was encouraged to see the Federal Minister for Law and Justice and Human Rights, Azam Nazeer Tarar publicly commit to embedding the conference’s recommendations within the government’s reform agenda. That gesture matters. Reform does not happen through declarations alone; a concerted shift in political will is worth noting.

For the NCHR, this is what SDG 16.3 demands: not vague commitments to ‘access’ or ‘equity’, but an unwavering effort to build a justice system that is responsive, humane, and grounded in the lived realities of ordinary people. Our mandate — from investigation to capacity-building to policy advocacy — is shaped by that goal. But no institution, no matter how principled, can do this alone. This work requires a sustained, collaborative, multi-stakeholder front against impunity.

The outcomes of this conference must not gather dust. They are not static, one-off declarations, but ongoing, consistent demands. They insist on coherence across sectors, on bravery from those in positions of power, and on perseverance from those on the margins. They remind us that justice is not measured by how aggressively a system punishes, but by how steadfastly it protects dignity. They mark a shift: from fatigue to imagination, from resignation to resolve.

Justice in Pakistan has long been portrayed as a lofty abstraction; distant, delayed, denied. But last week, we saw something different. We saw what it might mean to make it real.

The question now is whether we will stay the course — collectively, consistently, and with the courage to see it through.

The writer is chairperson of the National Commission for Human Rights.

Published in Dawn, April 16th, 2025