In the silence of Pakistan’s dusty villages, in the shadows of its sprawling cities, a hidden war is being waged. It is not fought with armies, yet its body count rises. It is not declared on news bulletins, yet its verdicts echo through every jirga, every family, every suffocated scream buried beneath the soil. This is Pakistan’s war on women, a genocide masquerading as “honour.”
On July 28, her own father and ex-husband dragged 18-year-old Sidra Bibi from her Rawalpindi home, suffocated her with a pillow, and buried her in secret in a shallow grave. What did she do wrong? She chose the man she married. A tribal jirga, a body of self-appointed elders whose decisions, despite being unlawful, carry the weight of life and death in rural Pakistan ordered her execution.
A young couple named Sana Muhammad Asif and Sajid Masih were discovered shot dead, execution-style, with bullets lodged in their skulls, in Karachi’s Boat Basin just days later. Their bodies were dumped close to the port, looking like a crime scene. Both of them were shot to restore a family’s “honour” after they dared to marry against their families’ wishes.
These are not rarely witnessed tales. They are everyday events, ordinary butchery disguised as custom. The same twisted rationale underlies each case: ghairat, that suffocating, hollow word that has claimed more lives in Pakistan than any conflict. Honour killings are the brutal present, not the remnants of a violent past.
According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), Pakistan reported 405 honour killings in 2024 alone, a horrifying increase from 226 in 2023. According to Amnesty International, 384 of these murders were reported in 2022. The horrifying reality is that these are only the cases that have been reported. Families, villages, and authorities who see these killings as “corrections” rather than crimes whisper about and cover up thousands more.
Women, girls, and occasionally even men were put to death for the crime of love, for refusing to comply, or for choosing a path that their families disapproved of. Fathers suffocating their daughters. Sisters are being shot by brothers. Wives are burned by their husbands. And whole villages, complicit, standing silent. Blood is at stake in this war, and the murderer is not an unknown individual. It’s family.
The Supreme Court of Pakistan has banned jirgas, or informal tribal councils, but they still function in both urban slums and large rural areas. There is no legal standing for these councils. They function outside of Pakistan’s legal system. However, they execute people without consequence, which is frequently applauded by entire communities.In November 2023, a jirga in Kohistan ordered the murder of a teenage girl for her appearance in a video that went viral. Earlier this year, a newlywed couple in Balochistan were shot dead in public after a jirga ordered their execution. These aren’t relics from the past. These are executions taking place in the present day while being overseen by a state that turns a blind eye.
“Arrests are not enough,” Amnesty International said in its condemnation of Pakistan’s failure to dismantle these unlawful parallel courts. It is necessary to dismantle rather than engage in negotiations with the tribal councils that serve as execution chambers. The state’s incapacity to deal with jirgas isn’t because of a lack of legislation, but rather because of a paralysis of will and a fear of upending the patriarchal, feudal systems that have solidified their hold on power over many generations.
This has nothing to do with culture. It’s a crisis of human rights. A slow-motion genocide. Pakistan has to choose between being known as a country that defended its daughters and one that killed them for honour. The graves are awaiting the response. However, we must not bury anymore. Not under our names. Never again.
These murders are slow. They are made to send a message as well as to take away a life. Before being suffocated, Sidra Bibi endured torture. Her grave was flattened to conceal the evidence, and her broken and bruised body was hurriedly buried. In a classic honour killing intended to demonstrate dominance and retaliation, Sana and Sajid were shot at close range, their bodies left side by side, each with a bullet through the head. Couples have been publicly shot and paraded in Balochistan, as though their deaths were a show.
These performances are staged. The brutality is intentional. Because this is about cleansing, not just killing. Only a family’s own blood can cleanse its “stained” honour. Even more horrifying is the fact that these killings are carried out in public as warnings to others: disobey us, and you will suffer the consequences.
On paper, Pakistan has taken action to stop honour killings. The loophole that permitted families to “forgive” the murderer, who was frequently a family member, was closed in 2016. Honour killings were deemed to be non-compoundable offenses. The purpose of the law was to mark a sea change. However, laws are useless if the system that upholds them is weakened by societal acceptance, legal indifference, and cultural fear. Police frequently decline to file FIRs. Witnesses do not speak. As entire communities band together to shield the murderers, courts witness cases falling apart due to “lack of evidence.” A country is living in denial of its humanity if it is unable to defend its daughters. When the killers are hailed as heroes in their communities, what good is a law? When, under the pretence of “honour,” jirga leaders continue to hold court and impose death sentences for family conflicts, property issues, and personal grudges, emboldened by the state’s silence?
A pervasive cultural decay is at the core of this crisis. The notion that a woman’s life is not as valuable as the honour of her family. That a father is insulted by a daughter’s decision. That a man’s pet peeve is a woman’s love. These killings are celebrated by entire families. The murderers are exalted by the community as upholding tradition. The word “murder” is frequently diluted in media reports, which refer to them as “incidents” or “disputes,” as though the victims deserved their fate.
This is more than just a court error. It is a crime against society. Blood is demanded by a cultural conspiracy to protect ego. The complicity is active rather than passive. It becomes evident that honor killings are not carried out covertly when neighbors remain silent witnesses, when local politicians decline to denounce these crimes, and when police offer condolences rather than make arrests. They are celebrated during the day.
It’s time for Pakistan to face the unsettling reality that murder is a common occurrence in our country. where falling in love with the wrong person is punishable by death., where a criminal’s gun is not as violently policed as a daughter’s smile.
These death sentences are handed down by terrorist courts. They need to be eliminated just as quickly as any other militant organization. Instead of negotiating with their leaders, they must be detained, tried, and punished. Honour killings should be punished with mandatory life sentences or the death penalty, and fast-track courts should be in place to ensure prompt justice. No “family arrangements,” no cultural exceptions, and no forgiveness are allowed. Murder is murder.
Laws alone won’t win Pakistan’s battle against honour killings. A cultural revolution is necessary. The ghairat‘s false pedestal, which has served as justification for thousands of killings, must be destroyed. Our sons must learn that honour is gained via defense, not through murder. Our daughters must learn that obedience is not a requirement for their existence.
These crimes must be openly discussed in schools. The media must cease sanitizing the language of honour killings. Politicians with the guts to criticize their own feudal allies are what we need. Above all, we need a populace that is enraged enough to demand action. And in order to break the silence that has suffocated so many Sidras, Sanas, and Sajids, we must shout loud enough.
We are complicit in murder every time we scroll past a news headline about an honour killing. We are accessories to execution each time a jirga meets in a village and no one intervenes. We are just as guilty as the hands pulling the rope each time a father, in the name of “tradition,” tightens a noose around his daughter’s neck.
This has nothing to do with culture. It’s a crisis of human rights. A slow-motion genocide. Pakistan has to choose between being known as a country that defended its daughters and one that killed them for honour. The graves are awaiting the response. However, we must not bury anymore. Not under our names. Never again.
