Pakistan is once again confronting a painful question: How many innocent women and girls must suffer before society stops treating violence against them as an isolated crime?
In recent weeks, a series of deeply disturbing cases has shaken the country. The alleged sexual assault and subsequent death of 18-month-old Aizal in Karachi, the disappearance and alleged sexual assault and murder of five-year-old Ayat Noor in Haripur, and the brutal killing of Hina Javed in Rawalpindi have generated widespread public outrage. These cases differ in circumstances, but together they expose a frightening reality: women and children can face danger not only in public spaces, but also within families, neighbourhoods and places where they should be safest. (The Friday Times)
Aizal was only 18 months old. Police said she was allegedly taken from her home by a teenage relative, returned in critical condition and later died in hospital. Medical findings were reported as consistent with sexual assault, and the suspect was taken into custody. Because the suspect is a minor, the case also raises complex questions about juvenile justice, but none of that diminishes the fundamental tragedy: a child who could not protect herself was allegedly subjected to unimaginable violence. (english.aaj.tv)
Then came the horrifying case of Ayat Noor. The five-year-old girl reportedly disappeared after going out to play in Haripur. After 16 days, her body was recovered from a well, and police reported that several suspects had been arrested in connection with her alleged abduction and sexual assault. Thousands attended her funeral. (english.aaj.tv)
Hina Javed’s case represents another dimension of the crisis. The 45-year-old former National Information Technology Board employee was found dead in her Rawalpindi apartment. Her family alleged that she had suffered physical and psychological abuse. An autopsy reportedly found multiple bruises and a ruptured hyoid bone, while police investigated the death as murder and arrested suspects for questioning. These remain allegations subject to investigation and due process. (Arab News PK)
And these are not merely three disconnected tragedies. A recent report citing Sahil’s six-month 2026 data stated that 3,172 cases of gender-based violence were publicly reported in Pakistan during the first six months of the year, including hundreds of reported murders, abductions, torture cases and sexual-violence cases. (IANS News)
Who Is Responsible?
The easiest answer is to blame one institution. The harder—and more honest—answer is that responsibility exists at several levels.
First, the perpetrators are responsible for their crimes. A person who sexually assaults, tortures or murders another human being carries direct criminal responsibility. No poverty, anger, family dispute, mental instability, clothing, location, relationship or personal disagreement can transform a victim into the perpetrator.
Second, the state carries responsibility for protection and justice. Laws mean little if victims cannot obtain protection before violence occurs, if complaints are ignored, if investigations are weak, or if powerful individuals can influence the system. The National Assembly has itself expressed concern over increasing violence against women and referred Hina Javed’s case to its Standing Committee on Interior for further examination. (National Assembly of Pakistan)
Third, families and communities have responsibilities. Domestic violence should not be dismissed as a “private family matter.” Threats, stalking, coercion, repeated physical abuse and credible warnings must be taken seriously before they escalate into murder.
Fourth, society itself must reject victim-blaming. When a woman is raped, the first questions should be: Where is the perpetrator? Why was she not protected? Why did the system fail? They should not be: Why was she there? What was she wearing? Why did she trust him? Why did she leave home?
A society that interrogates the victim more aggressively than the criminal is not merely failing women—it is normalising injustice.
What Does Islam Say?
For a Muslim-majority country, there is another profound question: Where is our Islam when the weak are violated?
Islam does not permit oppression. The Qur’an commands believers to stand firmly for justice—even when justice goes against themselves, their parents or their relatives. Surah An-Nisa 4:135 makes justice a religious obligation, not merely a social preference. (Quran.com)
This principle has enormous implications for cases of violence against women. If the accused is influential, wealthy, educated, religious, politically connected or a member of one’s own family, justice does not become optional.
Islam also distinguishes consensual unlawful sexual relations from sexual violence. The classical Islamic tradition explicitly recognises that a woman forced into sexual intercourse against her will is not to be punished as the perpetrator. Sahih al-Bukhari records a ruling that a woman subjected to forced intercourse is not punished for the act committed against her. (Sunnah)
Therefore, rape cannot be morally transferred onto the victim. The victim does not become guilty because someone violated her.
The Qur’an also strongly condemns those who make accusations against chaste women without proof. Surah An-Nur 24:4 establishes a severe consequence for false accusations. (Quran) This principle should make us extremely careful about spreading rumours, humiliating survivors or turning an allegation into a social-media trial.
Islamic justice is not mob justice. It is not revenge without evidence. It requires a lawful process, credible investigation, evidence, accountability and punishment through legitimate authority.
The Real Barbarism Is Not Only the Crime
We rightly call rape and murder barbaric. But there is another form of barbarism that is less visible: the barbarism of indifference.
It happens when a woman tells her family that she is being abused and nobody intervenes.
It happens when a child disappears and the response is delayed.
It happens when influential people receive protection while ordinary families struggle for justice.
It happens when society asks a grieving mother what her daughter did wrong instead of asking what the criminal did.
It happens when a case trends on social media for three days and then disappears from public memory.
And it happens when we repeatedly condemn violence after a woman has died but fail to build systems that could have protected her while she was alive.
Pakistan does not need another cycle of outrage followed by silence.
It needs effective prevention, professional policing, rapid investigation, forensic capacity, protection for complainants, functioning shelters, stronger child-protection mechanisms, domestic-violence intervention, legal assistance and swift, transparent trials.
Schools must teach children how to recognise inappropriate behaviour and how to seek help. Families must teach boys that masculinity is not domination. Religious leaders must speak openly against sexual violence and domestic abuse rather than reducing women’s safety to questions of clothing or mobility. Police must treat missing children and threats against women as urgent protection matters.
Most importantly, perpetrators must understand that there is a real probability of being identified, prosecuted and punished.
Who Will Answer for Aizal?
Who will answer for Ayat Noor?
Who will answer for Hina Javed?
And who will answer for the countless victims whose names never become national headlines?
The answer cannot simply be “the government.” Nor can it be “society.” Nor can it be “parents.” Each has a different responsibility.
The criminal must answer for the crime.
The police must answer for the investigation.
The courts must answer for timely justice.
The state must answer for protection and institutional capacity.
Families must answer when they knowingly ignore credible danger.
And society must answer for the culture of silence, victim-blaming and indifference that allows violence to continue.
Islam gives us a clear moral foundation: stand for justice, protect the vulnerable and do not allow personal interests to distort truth. The Qur’an’s command to stand firmly for justice is especially powerful when the accused is someone we know or someone whose influence frightens us. (Quran.com)
Aizal did not have a voice.
Ayat Noor did not have the power to defend herself.
Hina Javed deserved to live without fear.
Their stories should not become another temporary wave of hashtags.
A society should be judged not by how loudly it mourns its victims, but by how seriously it prevents the next victim from being created.
Pakistan must decide whether these deaths will become another collection of tragic headlines—or a turning point.
Because justice delayed is devastating.
But justice after death can never replace protection during life.