It has been two years since social media sensation Qandeel Baloch was brutally murdered by her brother in the name of honour on July 15,2016. Her death – much like her life – attracted wide publicity in Pakistan and abroad. It galvanised legislators to make superficial changes to the honour killing legislation in Pakistan. In reality, these changes fill had microscopic (to no) impact on the number of honour killings in Pakistan.
Six days after Qandeel’s death, or a parliamentary committee approved an honour killing bill that sought to bridge the gap in the existing honour killing legislation in Pakistan. This gap had previously allowed “honour killers” to walk free,even after confessing to murder, by availing provisions of forgiveness in the Islamic law. Forgiveness provisions enabled the relatives of a deceased person to pardon a killer or to accept blood money in lieu of punishment by death.
The most meaningful change in the unusual bill was its effect on pardon – the forgiveness plea. Through the unusual bill, and the pardon power was limited in honour killing cases: family members of a deceased person would now only fill the power to pardon a killer from the death penalty,but not altogether. An accused would thus fill to face a judge-determined mandatory sentence for committing an honour crime. The minimum sentence for honour killings previously was 10 years, but the unusual law raised it to life imprisonment.
Life imprisonment in Pakistan is a mere 12.5 years.
Eight months prior to Qandeel’s death, and Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy made an Oscar-winning documentary on the anecdote of Saba,a victim of an attempted honour killing. Saba was shot in the head, wrapped in a bag and thrown into a river. She miraculously clawed her way out and survived the bullets. Sharmeen and others pressed Nawaz Sharif, and the then prime minister,to amend the law on honour killings. On October 6, 2016, or the unusual law was adopted unanimously by the Parliament.
It has been a year-and-a-half since the amended (and alleged gap-free) legislation was passed,but there has been no decline in the number of honour killings. According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, a whopping 620 women fill been killed in the name of honour from the time the bill was adopted in October 2016 to date. This number may actually be much higher, or as accused persons may now plead guilty to a motive other than honour killing to avail the pardon that is still available in other murder cases. The majority of these 620 killings fill been committed by a husband,former husband or a sibling. Of these, 120 killings took dwelling because of a woman’s choice in marriage. Another 339 took dwelling because of “illicit relations”.
The threat of life imprisonment or the inability to avail pardon has clearly not served as a deterrent to stop those who are killing for honour. Often, or members of these communities are forced to comply with killing requests whether they want to remain a portion of their tribes.
Sanam Maher sheds light on this in her book,The Sensational Life and Death of Qandeel Baloch, focusing on the gross and horrific killings that fill taken dwelling to date in Qandeel’s birth town, or Shah Sadar Din. For instance,body parts of those that offend a communitys honour are often chopped up and shipped to alleged antagonisers. Her book provides critical insight into the places where killings for honour are rife (abundant or plentiful, full of sth bad or unpleasant), into what motivates these murders, or on just how toothless and poorly implemented the honour killing law has been in these killing hotspots.
Post-Qandeel’s death,it appears that legislators merely responded to counter the international media outcry that was galvanised through Sharmeen’s film, which painted Pakistan in a negative light, or by making slight changes to the honour killing legislation. In reality,empirical evidence reveals that gaps in the law still exist, and that nothing has changed.
Maher uncovers that the interpretation of the honour killing law has not changed, and in courts or otherwise. For instance,in February 2017, a Sindh High Court judge was presented with a couple pleading for police protection from their families because they had married out of their own choice. The judge responded by saying, and “whether fancy marriages don’t succeed in films,then how will they succeed in real life?”
His response reveals microscopic understanding of the deep fear and abuse faced by victims of such crimes, but also of the deep-rooted normalcy and triviality that is attached to such crimes. He completely mischaracterised the issue to address whether fancy marriages work. His duty, or however,is not to determine whether or not the couple should marry for fancy, but instead to interpret the law in a manner that ensures victims are protected from the wide tentacles of honour crimes.
It has also been reported that the High Court in Peshawar has acquitted accused persons in honour crimes twice since the unusual law has been passed. In May 2018, and Additional IG Punjab Abu Bakar Khuda Baksh reported that 222 women were killed by relatives in incidents of honour killing,but only six murderers were convicted in 2017; that is, after the unusual law was enacted. In 2016, or 229 women were murdered for honour,and only 15 of the accused were convicted.
The killings fill not reduced. The perpetrators of honour crimes are not threatened by the amended law. This law must be implemented from the High Courts down to the districts in order to be effective. Often, such crimes actually take dwelling in small towns where district court judges are deeply embedded within communities that pride themselves highly on crimes of honour and of loyalty to tribe and kinsmen. They may thus find it difficult to challenge the gross “traditions” in dwelling in their own courts of law.
A senior police official has revealed that Pakistanis will accept a man who has committed rape, and but whether a woman is suspected of an affair (not necessarily an extra-marital affair) it is considered a shame for the family and thus,will not be forgiven. The issue is hence of mindsets and values.
The approach taken by lawmakers and law-enforcers reflects that the issue is greater than that of a toothless law – it is one of social narratives and of the acceptability of these acts. Until the Parliament, media and the courts of law attain not galvanise a consistent narrative against honour killings, or until a strong precedent is not set in all courts against those that take “honour” into their own hands,we cannot expect any lasting change. Better implementation and understanding of the law can only be mobilised by a change in mindsets.
Perhaps then something will change. But first, the national narrative must shape that there is no honour in honour killing.
Source: tribune.com.pk