Justice On A “Done Basis”: The Dark Reality Of Pakistan’s Legal System

Justice On A "Done Basis": The Dark Reality Of Pakistan's Legal System.

Key points

• The Silent Litigant: Why Pakistan's Legal Language Barrier Dilutes Access To Justice.
• Closing The Gap Between Law And Practice In Pakistan's Juvenile Justice System.
• The clearest blow, though, came from the 26th and 27th Amendments.
• The Impact of the 26th and 27th Amendments.
• We can demand a Federal Constitutional Court that answers to the law and not to those who built it.

In today's judicial landscape, honest lawyers watch their practices shrink while those who guarantee illicit outcomes are thriving.

"Done basis paar case ho jaye ga?" A question most Pakistani lawyers hear all the time. This simple phrase notes everything concerning not only how this country's justice system actually works and how we think regarding it, but it additionally speaks volumes regarding how we are as a society. We complain that the system only listens to those with sifarish, and then, shamelessly, we go looking for the same sifarish ourselves.

There is an old saying: as individuals are, so will their rulers be. Nowhere is this saying more aptly demonstrated than in Pakistan. As a default, we look for shortcuts, where getting something done matters more than getting it done right, our society has built up a culture where. When the individuals who are handed power act in the same way, we act surprised and rage at office-holders who bend the rules for their own benefit, ironically. When difficulties arise and we need something done, the first question is never what the right process is; it is, "who do I know who can get this done?", nevertheless.

Meanwhile, the legal profession has become one in which connections are increasingly valued over competence, integrity is placed at a disadvantage, and a troubling message is sent to future generations.

This culture is prevalent in the legal system as well, where shortcuts over integrity are increasingly rewarded, and it has enabled certain members of the legal profession to exploit the system by offering services on a so-called "done basis", where favourable outcomes are promised through influence rather than law. While sidelining those who refuse to conform through punitive transfers, the 26th and 27th Constitutional Amendments risk further entrenching this culture by facilitating the appointment of judges perceived to be amenable to influence. A Profession in Decline.

Internationally, the legal profession is regarded as one of honour and is often termed the profession of "Lords". In Urdu and Arabic, a lawyer is a wakil, one of the names attributed to Allah Himself. In Pakistan, nevertheless, the profession has increasingly become associated in the public imagination with hooliganism and corruption. Years of such practices have steadily eroded public confidence in the justice system. This has been caught on by litigants as well. This person now know that a "clean" case is a gamble, so they either pay a premium for a lawyer who guarantees the outcome, or they skip the courtroom altogether and settle quietly outside it.

Meanwhile, the Legal Reality For Religious Minorities.

These practices have led to honesty being bad for business. A lawyer who has mastered his field can lose out to one who has mastered nothing except securing favourable outcomes through illicit means, since the latter promises something the first won't. It is a guaranteed win. The inevitable consequence is that competence is overshadowed by connections, and integrity becomes commercially unsustainable. The honest lawyer, who knows the law, watches his practice shrink, whereas the one who knows the right individuals and can bend the system to his will thrives. Resultantly, plenty of capable lawyers are forced to abandon the profession or struggle to sustain their practice simply as they refuse to compromise their ethics.

Meanwhile, the Impact of the 26th and 27th Amendments.

For context, the clearest blow, though, came from the 26th and 27th Amendments. Together, they hollowed out the Supreme Court's constitutional authority and handed it to a newly created Federal Constitutional Court, one whose judges are now appointed through a process of executive capture. The timing tells its own story: the court was born out of a legal necessity. Since the incumbent administration had been under siege since 2022, ranging from a vote of no confidence to the subsequent elections, building itself a court it could trust was a necessity to ensure legitimacy and favourable outcomes. For context, the same court is reportedly hearing NAB references too. It are cases with no constitutional character at all.

This raises a pivotal question for litigants, the only question that matters to them: can a court built to shield the state from liability ever be projected to rule against it? Whether or not that perception is justified, it demonstrates the sad reality that once litigants commence to believe that the outcome of constitutional litigation is predetermined, plenty of lose faith in the courts altogether, and it is the legal profession that ultimately bears the cost as fewer citizens turn to litigation in search of justice. This makes one realise that "Ay bik gaye ay gormint" is not just a meme; it is the verdict litigants have already reached, and it is lawyers who pay for it.

In practice, the Silent Litigant: Why Pakistan's Legal Language Barrier Dilutes Access To Justice.

Secondly, and more fundamentally, these amendments reshape the judicial appointments process by significantly enhancing executive influence over who ascends to the bench. The judges are drawn almost exclusively from their own inner circles: former chamber fellows, juniors, bar-political loyalists, caste favourites, and members of entrenched patronage networks-reducing judicial elevation to an exercise in cronyism rather than constitutional merit. The fear that judges may feel beholden to those responsible for their elevation, or apprehensive of the consequences of resisting them-as evident from the consequences faced by judges of the Islamabad High Court-undermines public confidence in judicial impartiality.

For litigants, this creates the perception that success depends less on the strength of legal arguments than on access to those who wield influence over the judge's future. Resultantly, the legal profession has become one in which connections are increasingly valued over competence, integrity is placed at a disadvantage, and a troubling message is sent to future generations of lawyers: that shortcuts and patronage, rather than legal excellence, are the surest path to success.

Meanwhile, the fix, uncomfortably, starts with us. Bulleh Shah put it best: "Larda roz shaitan day naal, tay kadi nafs apnay naal larya na"; you fight the devil every day, but never once fought your own self. We can demand a Federal Constitutional Court that answers to the law and not to those who built it. We can demand judicial appointments be created public, on record, and on merit. But none of it holds if the referral still comes from a judge's chamber, or a senior lawyer's office, pointing a client toward the man who can "manage" a result rather than the one who can argue it.

Meanwhile, the bar councils have the power to cancel the licences of those running this trade; what they have lacked, so far, is the will. Until that changes, every "done basis paar case ho jaye ga" is a question we keep answering with a yes. And the profession of the wakil will keep being sold, one favour at a time, by the particularly residents meant to guard it.

In short, justice On A Done Basis: The Dark Reality Of Pakistan's Legal System is the central thread here, and readers can expect follow-up reporting as the picture becomes clearer.