PUBLISHED
August 03, 2025
Twenty-one-year-old Laiba Farooq from the small village of Jared, in Balakot, was staying temporarily in Qalandarabad, Abbottabad, for work. She stepped out of her rented apartment on the evening of 20 May 2024 and as she was returning home from her job at a beauty salon, a job that she loved and worked hard to secure, a misfortune awaited her.
Previously, she had lived in several foreign cities, trained abroad and returned home each time with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to learn new skills and make a life for herself. But that ill-fated night, a man waited for her near her building. As she came close, walking toward him clueless and unaware of his presence, he approached her without hesitation, and opened fire at her. The bullet hit her in the abdomen.
The neighbours rushed her to the hospital, but despite their efforts, Laiba’s injuries proved fatal. The attacker was caught on the spot. To everyone’s horror, it was her elder brother, named Mazhar Shah.
In police custody, the accused person confessed to the crime, stating that he had killed his sister because she had brought shame to the family. He had punished her because Laiba had refused his repeated demands to quit her job, to return to her family, and to live in the quiet, and hidden-away life that was expected of women in their village.
Laiba’s death was not an isolated event. It is part of a horrifying pattern that stretches across geography, class, and culture. It is a manifestation of honour, an abstract code that values family reputation over individual autonomy, especially that of women. These are the so-called ‘honour killings,’ a practice that spans generations and cultures, perpetuated by a deeply rooted belief system where family reputation takes precedence over individual rights, particularly the rights of women.
Honour killings are not confined to a particular culture, religion, or ethnicity. The practice has its roots in ancient legal systems, such as the Code of Hammurabi, which linked women’s lives to male guardianship. This belief was further perpetuated in Roman law, where women were considered the property of men. Even in modern times, the practice of honour killings has been found across various regions, from South Asia to the Middle East, parts of Africa, and even within immigrant communities in Western countries.
In Pakistan, honour killings are referred to by different names in various regions: Karo Kari in Sindh, Kala Kali in Punjab, Tor Tora in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) and Siyah Kari in Balochistan. Despite these regional differences, the rationale behind each case is the same: to punish behaviour that supposedly stains the family’s honour.
But what qualifies as dishonour? And why is honour so stainable? To the perpetrators of these crimes, it could be almost anything. Women working outside the home, choosing their own partners, speaking out against abuse, wearing clothes that are deemed inappropriate, or simply existing in a public space can all be considered offences against family honour. In these patriarchal societies, women are expected to comply with rigid norms that restrict their personal freedom. When they break away from these expectations, their lives are often put at risk.
Pakistan has made some strides and taken legislative steps to address honour killings.
In 2016, the country passed the Anti-Honour Killing Laws or a Criminal Amendment Act, a landmark reform that made honour killings non-compoundable. This means that family members can no longer pardon perpetrators, a legal loophole that had been exploited for years. However, while the law has changed, the practical challenges of enforcement remain. Many police officers, especially in rural or conservative areas are hesitant to file cases related to honour killings. Witnesses often refuse to testify and even when they do, they are frequently intimidated. Survivors of attempted honour killings often live with the fear of retaliation for the rest of their lives. Meanwhile, jirgas illegal but still functional often settle these matters outside courtrooms, offering impunity cloaked in tradition.
Honour killings do not happen in a vacuum. They are deeply intertwined with the socio-economic conditions of the communities where they occur. In many areas, women remain dependent on their families, who often see them as liabilities rather than individuals with rights. They are discouraged from working, denied access to inheritance and taught that obedience is the greatest virtue. In such an environment, any attempt to break free from these constraints is seen as an act of defiance, one that must be punished.
For Laiba, moving abroad and working in healthcare was her way of rewriting her story. However, when she returned, she found herself pulled back into the grip of familial expectations. The decision to work at a beauty salon and live alone in a rented apartment was seen as a challenge to the traditional norms that governed her community. This defiance, in the eyes of her family, became the reason for her death.
The Mansehra case, where a young girl was killed after a video of her went viral, demonstrates the same patterns. While the video may have triggered the violence, it was the girl’s visibility and autonomy that marked her as a target. The ability to live independently, to exist outside the control of her family, was seen as a threat to the family’s honour and this is what ultimately led to her death.
The face of honour killings may change from province to province, but the impact remains devastating and consistent.
In Punjab, for instance, particularly in rural districts like Muzaffargarh and Rajanpur, cases of Kala Kali are reported frequently. The traditional Panchayat system, similar to the jirga, continues to operate despite legal bans. In these areas, even minor transgressions like an alleged elopement or simple interaction with a boy can lead to fatal consequences.
In Sindh, the practice of Karo Kari is also deeply entrenched. The very term implies the erasure of those accused of dishonour. In some cases, victims are killed in public as a form of punishment and to send a message to the community. Human rights activists in the region argue that tribal affiliations and political patronage shield perpetrators from the consequences of their actions, leaving many victims’ families powerless.
Meanwhile, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the practice of Tor Tora is often linked to tribal codes of honour. In the remote areas of KP, where formal policing is weak or non-existent, the authority of jirgas means that women have little chance of escaping the oppressive control of their families. This system often operates outside the purview of the law, and decisions regarding life and death are made by elders with little regard for the rights of the individuals involved.
In Balochistan, the practice of honour killings is equally pervasive. Here, the concept of collective punishment prevails: if one family member is accused of dishonour, another relative may be killed in their place. Some families even parade the accused before executing them, further reaffirming their authority over life and death within their communities.
Although legal reforms have been introduced, they are still insufficient in addressing the systemic issues that allow honour killings to continue. Strengthening law enforcement, particularly in rural districts, is essential. In addition, outlawing informal justice systems like the jirga, with severe penalties for those who participate in them, is crucial. The state must also provide greater support to survivors by offering shelters, legal aid, and relocation programmes to help them escape the cycle of violence. Furthermore, investing in education, particularly for girls, can help empower future generations to break free from these deeply entrenched traditions.
But legal reform is only part of the solution. The fight against honour killings also requires changing the underlying cultural norms that allow these crimes to persist. Changing minds takes time, but it is essential if we are to prevent further tragedies. Education plays a critical role in this. It is only through raising awareness, challenging deep-seated beliefs, and promoting the idea that women have the same rights as men that we can hope to see real progress.
Furthermore, economic independence is a key factor in reducing the vulnerability of women to honour-based violence. If women are able to support themselves financially, they will have more autonomy and control over their lives. Initiatives that provide financial independence, access to education, and social support systems can go a long way in preventing these killings.
It is also essential to recognise the role of civil society in the fight against honour killings. Women’s rights groups, local NGOs, and grassroots activists often act as the first line of defence for those facing these horrors. These organisations run safe houses, provide legal assistance, and document cases that might otherwise be buried. Their work is vital in pushing for change, but they often face considerable opposition, both from the state and from conservative elements within society.
International pressure has also played a role in encouraging legal reforms. Pakistan is a signatory to several UN conventions on gender rights, and it faces regular scrutiny in international human rights forums. However, meaningful change must come from within. It is essential for Pakistan’s own civil society, policymakers, and legal institutions to take a stronger stand against honour killings and work to dismantle the cultural structures that perpetuate them.
The fight against honour killings is not just about changing laws. It is about changing the way we think about honour, tradition, and family. Until we stop equating a woman’s worth with her obedience and submission, and until we stop associating a family’s reputation with the actions of its female members, these killings will continue.
Each case, each protest, and every survivor who dares to speak out, brings us one step closer to a future where women’s lives are no longer seen as the price of honour.
Manahil Sana is a psychology scholar who explores mental health stigmas, the impact of positive thinking and gender inequality.
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer.
