What is quietly breaking Pakistan’s judicial system is not interference, activism, or even backlog in the traditional sense. It is the mismatch between a hyper-visible judiciary and an invisible litigant. Courts today are constantly present in the public discourse through constitutional petitions, political litigation, televised hearings, and instant commentary. Yet for the ordinary citizen waiting for a decision in a civil, criminal, or family matter, the judiciary has never felt more distant. This paradox defines the present judicial moment: a system that speaks loudly but delivers slowly.
In the corridors of the courts, this contradiction becomes tangible. The file being carried is often older than the litigant’s youngest child. Its pages are yellowed, its corners folded from years of handling, each stamp marking not progress but survival. Through this slow passage of time, we have learned, painfully and collectively, that in Pakistan’s judicial system, silence is not the absence of authority; it is its most common expression.
The Supreme Court of Pakistan itself has sounded the alarm. In a recent judgement, a two-judge bench observed that delays in adjudicating cases at every tier of the legal system have become so acute that they erode public confidence in the judiciary, undermine the rule of law, and disproportionately harm the weak and vulnerable who cannot afford prolonged litigation. This observation came not from critics outside the institution, but from judges who are part of it. It also quantified the scale of the problem: over 2.2 million cases pending before courts across Pakistan, with more than 55,000 awaiting resolution in the Supreme Court alone.
Justice delayed is justice denied, a principle enshrined in Articles 4, 9, and 10A of Pakistan’s Constitution, which guarantee access to justice and due process. Protracted litigation turns disputes into lifelong burdens for ordinary citizens, deters investment, renders contracts illusory, and weakens institutional legitimacy. For those who lack resources, drawn-out cases can make the promise of legal remedy an illusion rather than a right.
Recent constitutional amendments concerning judicial governance have further absorbed institutional attention, intensifying elite debates over control and appointments while leaving the everyday machinery of justice largely untouched. Addressing this crisis demands practical and implementable reform.
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First, Pakistan must strengthen judicial infrastructure by increasing the number of judges and support staff proportionate to caseloads. This includes establishing more branch-level special courts for high-volume case categories. Second, the judiciary should fully embrace digital transformation. A nationwide e-court system with electronic filing, automated case scheduling, digital records, and real-time tracking can dramatically reduce administrative delays and prevent avoidable adjournments. The Supreme Court’s plan to equip all courts with integrated digital systems and connectivity by 2026 is a step in the right direction; its expedited implementation must be prioritized and adequately funded.
Third, modern case management practices must replace passive docketing. Courts in jurisdictions such as Singapore, the United Kingdom, and Canada have successfully employed proactive case management, technology-assisted scheduling, and performance dashboards to limit unnecessary delays—a model that Pakistani courts can adapt to local needs. Fourth, procedural reforms should simplify outdated legal requirements that allow routine postponements and manipulation of schedules. Clear limits on adjournments, automated age tracking of dormant cases, and transparent reporting of progress can create accountability without compromising fairness.
Lastly, legal education and training must align more closely with practical judicial administration. Judges and court staff deserve continuous training in efficient case handling, ethical standards, and the use of technology to strengthen institutional capacity rather than merely expanding judicial powers on paper.
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None of these solutions require confrontation or politicization. They hinge on a shared assumption: that the judiciary must work more efficiently not for the powerful, but for all citizens. Real reform begins with acknowledging that delays—not judicial independence or constitutional contests—are the most visible failure for ordinary litigants. If justice is to remain both meaningful and legitimate, it must be swift as well as fair. Without confronting this reality, structural debates over court appointment mechanisms or jurisdictional boundaries risk drifting into abstraction. When justice takes decades instead of weeks, the law ceases to be a source of public reassurance and becomes a symbol of institutional dysfunction.
Pakistan can reclaim the promise of its judiciary—but only by making that promise tangible for every citizen who walks into a courtroom seeking fairness and resolution.
Aroosa Adil is an LLB Sharia and Law final year student at the International Islamic University. She writes regularly for the digital and print media. She can be reached at aroosaadil8888@gmail.com.