News Desk
KARACHI — Pakistan’s media community is in open revolt over a new cybercrime law, with the country’s top journalists’ union slamming it as a stranglehold on free expression and a dagger to democracy’s heart. The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists (PFUJ) minced no words, calling the recent amendments to the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (Peca) “a martial law for the press, rammed through in secret by a panicked government.”
The jab came straight from their three-day delegate meeting in Islamabad, where the coalition led by the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) took a beating in resolution after resolution.
The PFUJ isn’t just mad about the law — they’re fed up with the government’s dirty tricks, like using advertising bucks to muzzle outlets. Dawn, the granddaddy of Pakistan’s English press, has been a prime target, they say. “They’re starving Dawn for daring to call it like it is,” one resolution fumed, nodding to the paper’s fearless reporting and biting editorials.
The union’s beef with Peca runs deep. Sold as a clampdown on “fake news,” they argue it’s been a battering ram against dissent for eight years running.
“This isn’t about truth — it’s about control, straight out of the old dictator’s handbook,” the PFUJ declared, linking it to relics like the 1963 Press and Publication Ordinance and the 2001 PEMRA gag rules. They’re demanding the law’s head on a platter and plan to huddle with other media groups to plot their next move.
But the government’s not stopping at censorship. The union tied the media squeeze to a bloodier crisis: journalists are dying in droves. Ten were killed last year alone, they say, and the cops can’t — or won’t — catch the killers. “Jan Mohammad Mehr’s murderer is laughing somewhere, and the police know exactly where,” the PFUJ spat, pointing to one glaring failure. Then there’s Matiullah Jan, a loudmouth critic in Islamabad, hit with anti-terrorism and blasphemy charges just for opening his mouth.
Even as Peca stirred the pot, the government stonewalled pleas to share the draft. “Some unseen puppet masters kept it under wraps,” the union hinted. And in Balochistan, the gloves came off: authorities bolted the Quetta Press Club shut to kill a planned event, despite earlier approval.
The PFUJ’s had enough. “We’re targets, and the government’s doing squat to stop it,” they roared, blasting Islamabad’s failure to shield journalists from bullets and trumped-up charges.
Amid the chaos, the union picked its leaders for 2025-27. Afzal Butt waltzed into the presidency unchallenged, Arshad Ansari from Lahore nabbed secretary general, and Lala Asad Pathan from Sukkur took finance secretary.
Pakistan’s journalists are digging in for a fight, facing a government they see as dead-set on crushing them. Whether they can claw back their voice remains up in the air.
