The claims presented in Amnesty International’s Shadows of Control report are undoubtedly serious, painting a grim picture of digital surveillance in Pakistan. However, while privacy is a vital concern, the report advances a dangerously decontextualized and one-sided narrative. It largely ignores Pakistan’s unique and severe security challenges and is colored by the organization’s own controversial history of bias and questionable methodologies. A more complete picture requires examining the national security imperative that drives policy, correcting legal misrepresentations, and, crucially, scrutinizing the track record of the accuser itself.
To ignore Pakistan’s national security context is a fundamental misrepresentation of the state’s motives. Surveillance is a necessary, life-saving tool for a nation that has been a primary victim of global terrorism, losing tens of thousands of civilian and military lives. The country faces persistent threats from cross-border terrorism, violent extremist groups like the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) and IS-Khorasan, and various separatist movements. These are not distant, abstract threats they have manifested in horrific attacks on schools, markets, and places of worship, leaving a deep and lasting scar on the national psyche.
With the advent of modern technology, terrorist groups have also quickly mastered these tools. They now routinely use encrypted digital channels and social media platforms to plan logistics, execute attacks, recruit new members, and disseminate propaganda, making electronic intelligence indispensable. In this environment, intelligence gathering is not an abstract tool of oppression but a proactive, defensive measure to preempt attacks and dismantle terror cells.
Furthermore, before accepting the report’s conclusions, it is essential to examine the source. Amnesty International has a documented history of methodological flaws and a troubling internal environment that raises legitimate questions about its objectivity. This report relies heavily on anonymous sources and leaks. As Amnesty itself admits, its letters to the Pakistani government went unanswered. To then publish a report of this magnitude without meaningful engagement suggests a predetermined conclusion. The principle of audi alteram partem—hearing the other side—is fundamental to any credible investigation. This aligns with criticism that Amnesty often exhibits selection bias. Its moral authority is further undermined by a 2019 internal report that exposed a toxic workplace culture, with many examples of extreme racism. An organization plagued by internal strife and racism is less likely to produce meticulous, balanced external analysis, as such an environment can foster a culture where nuance is lost to fit preconceived notions.
The Pakistan report is not an isolated case. In the Israel-Palestine conflict, scholar Norman Finkelstein accused Amnesty of whitewashing Israeli actions by creating a false equivalence and failing to contextualize the vast asymmetry of power. Similarly, its 2015 policy advocating for the full decriminalization of the sex industry was heavily criticized. This highlights a tendency to adopt ideologically rigid positions that can conflict with the nuanced realities of protecting vulnerable populations. The 2021 controversy where Amnesty stripped Alexei Navalny of his prisoner of conscience status, a decision it quickly reversed, revealed a troubling susceptibility to external pressure, eroding its reputation as a principled observer.
Contrary to the report’s assertion of a legal vacuum, Pakistan operates under a framework that provides for lawful surveillance. Article 14 of the Constitution explicitly balances privacy with legal requirements. Statutes such as the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), 2016, and the Investigation for Fair Trial Act, 2013, provide legal avenues for surveillance under specific circumstances. These acts establish procedural safeguards and often require judicial warrants, creating a system of checks and balances that the report largely overlooks. The narrative of a legal vacuum is therefore not just inaccurate, but misleading.
Finally, the term mass surveillance is a loaded exaggeration that ignores global double standards. Monitoring specific, credible threats is targeted intelligence, not indiscriminate monitoring. Western nations like the United States, with its post-9/11 NSA programs, and the United Kingdom, with its sweeping Investigatory Powers Act, have extensive surveillance powers while facing arguably less severe domestic threats. France, for instance, passed sweeping surveillance laws after the Charlie Hebdo attacks. The critique leveled against Pakistan seems to apply a different standard, failing to acknowledge that the state is grappling with threats that are far more existential than those faced by many Western nations.
The conversation about human rights and digital privacy in Pakistan is critically important, but it cannot be based on flawed and decontextualized reports. The report strips away essential security context, ignores the existing legal framework, and emanates from a source with its own significant credibility issues. True advocacy for human rights must be credible and holistic. Instead of one-sided condemnations, a more fruitful approach would involve a multi-stakeholder dialogue that includes security experts, legal scholars, and civil society to find a durable balance between liberty and security, a challenge every modern nation is facing.
