Abu Bakar Khan is a JURIST staff correspondent and lawyer based in Pakistan.
Pakistan’s information and freedom of speech landscape has steadily narrowed over the past several years as the state began systematically removing independent voices from television channels and newspaper columns. In response, many journalists turned to digital platforms—primarily YouTube—to continue reporting on current events and offering critical commentary. On July 8, the state expanded its crackdown on dissent when an Islamabad judicial magistrate, acting on a request from the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency (NCCIA), ordered YouTube to block 27 channels—including those of veteran reporters Matiullah Jan and Asad Toor, and the official channel of political party Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), along with several other political commentators.
Astonishingly, the NCCIA approached the court under Section 94 of the Code of Criminal Procedure 1898 (CrPC). This provision authorizes a court or police officer to compel the production of specific documents or material necessary for an investigation or trial, but does not allow for sweeping censorship or the blocking of YouTube channels.
Even more troubling was that the magistrate’s order was issued in complete haste, without offering the 27 individuals a chance to be heard—a blatant violation of the fundamental principle of natural justice: audi alteram partem, or “hear the other side.” The order directed YouTube and its parent company to “block” or “remove” a list of YouTube channels and was provided to all parties, without referencing specific content or providing any legal justification for bypassing due process laws.
On June 24, NCCIA’s Cyber Crime Circle informed the Islamabad judicial magistrate of its plan to conduct an inquiry under Section 37 of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act 2016 (PECA 2016), which addresses unlawful online content. The agency alleged that the 27 YouTube channels “involved in disseminating and propagating fake and misleading information against state institutions” was “likely to cause fear, panic, disorder or unrest in the general public or society,” and included “defamatory and fake remarks/information” that the agency claimed violated privacy and harmed state officials’ dignity.
Notably, the magistrate’s order did not cite any provision of the PECA 2016, a curious omission considering that PECA vests the authority to block online content exclusively in the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority (PTA)—not in the courts. This raises an important question: why did the NCCIA approach a judicial magistrate in the first place?
One plausible explanation is that the government sought judicial cover to lend legitimacy to the takedown request, particularly when dealing with a global platform like YouTube. While legally tenuous, the magistrate’s order may have served as a convenient stamp of approval.
Legal experts and digital rights advocates have argued that, like Section 94 of the CrPC, Section 37 of PECA does not authorize censorship to be applied broadly without pointing to specific evidence, and without a transparent legal process. The magistrate’s order relied solely on the NCCIA’s petition, with no clear findings, evidence, or hearings, and effectively granted the state unchecked power to silence political dissent. Fortunately, a partial judicial correction followed soon after.
On July 11, a district and sessions court admitted two revision petitions filed by Matiullah Jan and Asad Toor against the blocking order. The court suspended the order for the two petitioners and issued notices to NCCIA, directing the agency to submit a response by the next hearing on July 21. According to the order, the petitioners contended that they were not given prior notice and that the ban violated Article 10-A of the Constitution, which guarantees the right to a fair trial.
The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) also condemned NCCIA’s attempt to block the channels, stating that:
The wholesale blocking of entire channels—rather than addressing specific instances of unlawful or hateful speech in accordance with due process—conflates dissent with criminal activity. The constitutional right to freedom of expression is fundamental not only for individual liberty but also for ensuring government accountability, fostering debate and enabling the public to access a diversity of viewpoints.
HRCP urged the authorities to ensure that interventions against hate speech are “precise and proportionate” rather than politically motivated and legally dubious blanket bans.
This is no isolated incident—it is part of a broader, deliberate strategy by Pakistan’s military to dominate the national narrative. Over the past year, the government has steadily stifled dissent by restricting traditional news outlets by temporarily banning social media platforms like X (formerly Twitter), issuing regulatory threats to TV channels, and exerting financial pressure by withdrawing government advertisements from critical newspapers. It has also expanded its legal censorship toolkit by amending the PECA and creating a Social Media Regulatory Authority empowered to jail users for content deemed “false” or “anti-state.”
These events unfold against the backdrop of a shifting judicial and political landscape in Pakistan, where the military continues to cement its influence over key state institutions. In recent years, the government has aggressively tried to curtail political dissent and judicial independence has come under serious strain. The passage of the 26th Constitutional Amendment enabled the executive to influence judicial appointments and transfers, leading to a series of favorable postings and rulings from the superior judiciary—the highest court system comprised of the Supreme Court, the Federal Shariat Court, and the five High Courts. Legal observers warn that these developments compromise the courts’ integrity. Accordingly, the crackdown on independent journalists’ YouTube content is not merely an attack on free expression, but part of a calculated, coordinated government effort to eliminate every remaining platform for dissent and democratic accountability.
Consequently, YouTube and other online platforms are some of the few remaining venues for independent reporters, journalists, and opposition voices. Now, those too are under direct threat, with the state working to shut down dissent across the internet.
For independent journalists, YouTube is more than just a platform; it is their newsroom, their livelihood, and the last remaining space where they can speak truth to power. Silencing them impacts their careers and undermines the public’s right to access independent viewpoints and uncensored information within a democratic society.
