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By Syeda Shehar Bano Bukhari Introduction: The rapid growth of social media and digital communication has transformed how people interact, work, and share information. Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, WhatsApp, and other online services have become an important part of everyday life. However, the expansion of digital spaces has also created new forms of crime, including cyber harassment, online blackmail, identity theft, unauthorized sharing of private information, and the misuse of digital content. In Pakistan, cybercrime has become an increasingly important legal issue. Courts are now required to balance the protection of individuals from online abuse with fundamental rights such as freedom of expression and privacy. Recent judicial rulings have highlighted the need for effective investigation, proper use of digital evidence, and protection of victims of online harassment. Background of the Legal Issue: Online harassment can take many forms. It may involve sending threatening messages, repeatedly contacting a person against their wishes, creating fake social media accounts, spreading private photographs, or publishing false information to damage someone’s reputation.  Women are particularly vulnerable to certain forms of online harassment. In some cases, social media platforms are used to threaten women with the publication of private photographs or videos. Such conduct can cause serious psychological distress and may affect a person’s family relationships, education, employment, and social reputation. The problem becomes more complicated when victims hesitate to report such incidents because of social pressure or fear of further harassment. As a result, many cases of online abuse may remain unreported. Role of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act: Pakistan’s main legal framework for dealing with cybercrime is the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act, 2016 (PECA). The law provides criminal penalties for several forms of unlawful activity carried out through information technology and electronic communication. The law covers offences relating to unauthorized access, interference with information systems, cyberstalking, harassment, identity-related offences, and the misuse of electronic information. Under the legal framework, victims of cyber harassment can approach the relevant authorities and provide evidence such as screenshots, messages, emails, social media links, recordings, and other digital material. Such evidence may assist investigators in identifying the accused and establishing the circumstances of the alleged offence. Importance of Digital Evidence: One of the most important aspects of cybercrime cases is the collection and preservation of digital evidence. Unlike traditional crimes, online offences often leave electronic traces. For example, if an individual repeatedly threatens another person through WhatsApp messages, the victim may preserve screenshots, message records, telephone numbers, and other relevant information. Similarly, if a fake social media account is created to impersonate someone, the account link and associated digital information may become important evidence. However, digital evidence must be properly collected and authenticated. Courts must ensure that evidence presented before them is reliable and has not been manipulated by the offenders in connivance with the authorities. This makes forensic investigation an important part of modern criminal justice. Freedom of Expression and Online Abuse: The regulation of online content also raises questions concerning freedom of expression. Freedom of expression is a fundamental right, provided by the Constitution of Pakistan, 1973, but it is not unlimited and is also restricted. The law may impose reasonable restrictions in certain circumstances, including where speech involves threats, harassment, incitement to violence, or other unlawful conduct. The challenge for courts and law-enforcement authorities is to distinguish between legitimate criticism and unlawful online abuse. For example, a person criticizing a public official’s policies may be exercising freedom of expression. However, repeatedly threatening that official with violence or publishing private information with the intention of causing harm may cross the boundary between protected expression and unlawful conduct. Therefore, effective cybercrime laws must protect both individual safety and legitimate freedom of expression. A Real-Life Example: Consider a situation in which a woman receives repeated threatening messages from an unknown social media account. The person behind the account threatens to publish her private photographs unless she follows certain demands. Such conduct may create fear and psychological pressure. The victim can preserve the messages, take screenshots, record relevant account information, and report the matter to the appropriate authorities. The case demonstrates why awareness of digital rights and legal remedies is important. Victims should know that online harassment is not simply a personal disagreement; depending on the circumstances, it may constitute a criminal offence. Challenges in Cybercrime Investigations: Despite the existence of cybercrime laws, several challenges can affect the investigation and prosecution of online offences. First, offenders may use fake identities or anonymous accounts. Second, digital evidence can be deleted or altered quickly. Third, cybercrime investigations often require specialized technical expertise.  Another challenge is the international nature of the internet. An offender may operate from another country while targeting a victim in Pakistan. In such circumstances, obtaining evidence and identifying the person responsible may require international cooperation. These challenges demonstrate the need for trained investigators, modern forensic laboratories, effective cooperation between institutions, and public awareness. Protection of Victims: Victim protection is an important part of the response to cybercrime. Victims of online harassment may experience anxiety, fear, depression, and social pressure. In cases involving private images or blackmail, the psychological consequences can be particularly severe and damaging. Legal institutions should therefore ensure that victims can report complaints safely and confidentially. Investigations should be conducted professionally, and unnecessary exposure of victims’ private information should be avoided. The justice system should also recognize that victims of cyber harassment may require psychological and social support in addition to legal remedies. Broader Legal Significance: The increasing number of cybercrime cases demonstrates that traditional concepts of criminal law must adapt to technological developments. Crimes committed through digital platforms can cause real-world harm, even when the offender and victim never meet physically. The legal system must therefore develop effective methods for dealing with electronic evidence, online anonymity, cross-border offences, and rapidly changing technology. At the same time, laws should be applied carefully so that legitimate criticism, journalism, and freedom of expression are not unnecessarily restricted. A balanced legal approach is necessary to

By Ahmad Hassan “The convoluted wording of legalisms grew up around the necessity to hide from ourselves the violence we intend toward each other… Elaborate euphemisms may conceal your intent to kill, but behind any use of power over another the ultimate assumption remains: ‘I feed on your energy.’” When Frank Herbert wrote those words in his novel Dune Messiah, he observed that elaborate euphemisms are often used by the state to conceal the raw mechanics of power. In Pakistan, August 5 is observed as Youm-e-Istehsal to condemn the 2019 revocation of Article 370 and its supplementary provision, Article 35A. This act of the Indian government removed Kashmir’s separate constitution, its flag and its control over its own affairs. Last week marked seven years since that day. What began as a dramatic constitutional rupture has now, by design, become quietly normalized. Jammu and Kashmir joined India in 1947 on defined terms. The Maharaja handed over defence, foreign affairs and communications. Everything else stayed with the state. The United Nations later called for a plebiscite. It never happened. Instead, over decades, the protections that were supposed to stand in its place were worn down piece by piece, until August 5, 2019, when the government removed what remained in a single stroke. The method deserves more attention than it usually gets. Article 370 was not directly changed. First, the government reached for Article 367, which was intended to aid in the interpretation of the Constitution, and used it to redefine one phrase: “Constituent Assembly” became “Legislative Assembly.” Kashmir had no sitting assembly at the time, and the state was under President’s Rule. So, the government’s own appointee, the Governor, signed off on the change. India’s Supreme Court had already ruled, in 1959 and again in 1969, that Kashmir’s constitutional status could only be changed after the approval of the Constituent Assembly of Kashmir. When that body no longer existed, no institution had the standing to give that consent on Kashmir’s behalf. New Delhi decided that its own Governor could stand in for the people he had not been elected by. That is not consent. It is a government consenting to itself. The Indian government argued that Kashmiris had lived for decades under an insurgency that killed tens of thousands and emptied the Valley of its Pandit community in 1990. It left the region isolated from the investment and policing coordination. That argument would carry more weight if the method had matched it. What followed the revocation was not the language of integration. It was a total communications blackout, landlines and mobile networks and the internet all cut at once. Independent estimates put the troop presence at 600,000 to 800,000, roughly one soldier for every ten Kashmiris. Even pro-India politicians, former chief ministers among them, were placed under detention. Perhaps a security argument can justify counter-insurgency operations. It cannot by itself justify dissolving a state’s constitutional status, its legislature and its statehood in one move. That too with no elected Kashmiri voice given the chance to object. Jawaharlal Nehru warned Parliament about exactly this shortcut in 1952, while Article 370 was still being drafted. No clause in a constitution, he said, could substitute for the will of the Kashmiri people. Real integration, in his words, comes from the mind and the heart, not from a clause imposed from outside. Actually, there is a longer, quieter project behind the legal manoeuvre. Article 35A once barred outsiders from buying land or settling permanently in Kashmir. Since its removal, more than 3.2 million domicile certificates have gone to outsiders, most of them non-Kashmiri Hindus. This alarming thing is that wherever a disputed territory’s demographics are reshaped before its people are asked what they want, the eventual vote, if one ever comes, no longer reflects the population whose future was originally in question. None of this required an invading army, or an open declaration of intent. It required a redefined word, a signature from an appointee, and a great deal of time. The convoluted legalisms that Herbert warned about have become policy in Kashmir: development, integration, correction. Each euphemism has quietly done the work that an honest admission of purpose could never have achieved. Seven years on, Kashmir’s assembly has voted decisively against the BJP that carried out the revocation, and passed its own resolution demanding the restoration of its special status. New Delhi can easily ignore them. Yet, that very power to ignore an elected legislature proves, beyond any doubt, that the “consent” obtained seven years ago was always a legal fiction.