By Sabrina Iqbal
Recently, I witnessed yet another cyber-harassment case conclude through compromise. It was not the first such case I had encountered in practice, and it is unlikely to be the last. Over the years, while dealing with cybercrime matters involving allegations of online blackmail, circulation of private photographs, cyberstalking and harassment of women and minor girls, one question has repeatedly emerged: if Pakistan has enacted laws to protect victims of cyber harassment, why do so many cases end before a court has the opportunity to determine guilt or innocence?
The question is particularly important in an era where digital spaces have become inseparable from daily life. Education, employment, business, social interaction and personal relationships increasingly unfold through smartphones and social media platforms. Yet alongside these opportunities has emerged a darker reality. Private photographs are weaponized, fake accounts are created, personal information is misused and technology becomes a tool for intimidation, coercion and exploitation. Cyber harassment is no longer a distant urban phenomenon confined to large cities; it is increasingly affecting communities across Pakistan, including Gilgit-Baltistan.
Statistics relating to Section 21 of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act, 2016 (PECA) in Gilgit-Baltistan between 2020 and 2025 offer a revealing picture. According to information obtained from officials dealing with cybercrime investigations, eighteen FIRs were registered during this period. Of these, ten concluded through settlement or compromise, one resulted in conviction and seven remain under trial. At first glance, these numbers appear straightforward. In reality, they raise difficult questions. Statistics tell us how cases end, but they do not tell us why.
Nor do they reveal how many complaints never progress beyond the inquiry stage, how many victims choose silence over reporting, or how many families decide that the social consequences of legal proceedings outweigh the benefits of pursuing them. Officials familiar with cybercrime investigations indicate that a significant number of complaints do not proceed beyond the inquiry stage because complainants ultimately decide not to pursue formal criminal proceedings. The reasons are rarely legal. Instead, they are frequently social. Victims and families express concerns regarding privacy, reputation, community reaction, future marriage prospects and the possibility of becoming the subject of public discussion.
Another recurring feature of cyber-harassment complaints arises after the inquiry stage has concluded and sufficient incriminating material has been secured by investigators. In practice, victims and their families are often told that pursuing the matter will require repeated court appearances, public exposure and prolonged litigation. The prospect of being “dragged into court” frequently becomes a source of anxiety in its own right. As a result, some complainants begin to view compromise not as a reflection of the merits of the case but as a means of avoiding anticipated stress and social consequences.
Yet this perception does not always correspond with the legal reality. By the time a cyber-harassment complaint reaches the stage of formal prosecution, investigators have often already conducted inquiries, preserved electronic evidence, obtained digital records and secured relevant forensic material. Nevertheless, fears regarding publicity, exposure and prolonged proceedings continue to influence decisions regarding whether a complaint should proceed. The gap between public perception and legal reality may therefore be contributing to outcomes that are not fully explained by the strength or weakness of the evidence itself.
This reality is neither unique to Gilgit-Baltistan nor merely anecdotal. It has been recognized by the courts themselves. In Tariq Liaquat Ali Khan v. State (2020 P Cr. L.J. 759), the Sindh High Court observed that cybercrimes are overwhelmingly underreported because of the stigma associated with such allegations and the reluctance of families to involve law-enforcement agencies. The Court further noted that women are frequently targeted through cyberstalking, harassment, extortion and blackmail, and emphasized the need for greater awareness regarding safe use of technology and available legal protections.
The significance of these observations cannot be overstated. Courts are rarely called upon to comment upon broader social realities. Yet in this instance, the Court acknowledged what investigators, lawyers and victims themselves frequently encounter: the law may exist, but social barriers often prevent its use.
The gendered dimension of cyber harassment also cannot be ignored. Courts, investigators and digital-rights organizations have repeatedly observed that women constitute a significant proportion of complainants in matters involving online harassment, image-based abuse and digital blackmail. In many instances, the harm extends beyond the immediate offence because victims must also contend with social attitudes that place disproportionate scrutiny upon them rather than upon the conduct of the offender. This reality helps explain why concerns regarding privacy and confidentiality frequently arise at the earliest stages of cybercrime complaints.
The consequences of cyber harassment are often uniquely severe because digital harm rarely remains confined to a single moment. In Muhammad Haseeb v. State (2024 P Cr. L.J. 1462), the Islamabad High Court recognized that intimate photographs circulated online may become a lifelong stigma and can irreparably damage family relationships and social standing. Unlike many traditional offences, digital abuse possesses a degree of permanence. Images may be copied, stored, redistributed and re-circulated indefinitely. Even where content is eventually removed, the emotional, psychological and reputational consequences frequently remain.
One of the defining characteristics of cyber harassment is therefore its persistence. Harmful content may continue to exist long after the original publication has been deleted. For victims, the fear is often not limited to what has already occurred but extends to what may happen in the future. This continuing vulnerability helps explain why image-based abuse and digital blackmail frequently produce consequences far beyond the immediate offence itself.
Viewed collectively, recent judicial decisions reveal a consistent narrative rather than isolated observations. Courts across different jurisdictions are increasingly recognizing that cyber harassment affects dignity, privacy and personal security, disproportionately impacts women and girls, and presents challenges that extend beyond conventional criminal law. This consistency is significant because it demonstrates an emerging judicial understanding of cyber harassment as a social and human problem rather than merely a technological one.
The discussion assumes particular significance in Gilgit-Baltistan. Unlike larger metropolitan centres where anonymity is often possible, communities in many parts of the region remain closely connected. Social relationships, family networks and community interactions are deeply intertwined. While these characteristics represent important social strengths, they may also intensify concerns regarding privacy and public perception when sensitive allegations arise. Understanding this context is essential when examining why some victims hesitate to pursue legal remedies despite the availability of statutory protections.
The emerging challenge may therefore be described as a victim–justice gap. On one side stands a legal framework designed to protect victims of cyber harassment. On the other stands a social reality in which many victims remain hesitant to engage with that framework. The gap between these two realities cannot be measured solely through conviction statistics. A conviction rate does not reveal how many individuals never reported an offence, how many complaints ended during inquiry, or how many victims abandoned proceedings because they feared exposure more than they trusted legal protection.
A striking feature of contemporary cybercrime jurisprudence is that the concerns identified by courts, investigators and practitioners are remarkably consistent. The Sindh High Court speaks of stigma and underreporting. Investigators observe complainants withdrawing at the inquiry stage. Victims express fears regarding privacy and reputation. These observations point toward a common theme: the law is evolving, but public awareness is struggling to keep pace.
The challenge is no longer whether legal protections exist; it is whether those who need them know they exist and trust that they can be used without fear.
Many of the concerns that discourage victims from reporting cyber harassment are precisely the concerns that modern cybercrime law seeks to address. Understanding those protections requires a closer examination of how Pakistan’s cybercrime framework has evolved over the past decade. That discussion deserves separate attention.
…… part II coming
