As a lawyer, I seek pardon from the honourable judiciary before I say what must be said: the proposed 27th Constitutional Amendment is nothing short of a new PCO, only this time it arrives wearing the constitutional robe itself. The ghosts of 2007 may have faded, but the spirit of constitutional manipulation is being revived under a democratic pretext. Those who lend legitimacy to this attempt may well be remembered alongside Justice Retired Abdul Hameed Dogar, Justice Retired Faqir Muhammad Khokhar, and others who once took oath under General Musharraf’s Provisional Constitutional Order (PCO) instruments that history has condemned as betrayals of judicial independence.
In contrast, those who refused to take the oath—Chief Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry, Justice Rana Bhagwandas, Justice Khalil-ur-Rehman Ramday, and Justice Sardar Raza Khan—stood as symbols of resistance, proving that honour sometimes demands defiance. Their courage fuelled the Lawyers’ Movement of 2007, a movement that shook the corridors of power and revived the people’s faith in constitutionalism. But today, with the 27th Amendment on the horizon, that hard-earned independence once again hangs by a thread.
This amendment, if passed, will allow the transfer of judges among superior courts, a tool that may appear administrative on the surface but is lethal in its implications. Judicial security of tenure, the cornerstone of independence, will be eroded. A judge who dares to question the powerful quarters or take up politically sensitive cases could simply be transferred elsewhere. It is not difficult to imagine what that means for accountability or constitutional checks.
The reality is already visible: judges now live under a silent fear of exclusion or transfer. Take, for instance, Justice Mansoor Ali Shah, whose constitutional acumen is acknowledged across Pakistan. Yet, despite repeated suggestions from Justice Jamal Khan Mandokhail to include all judges in the Constitutional Bench, Justice Shah has often been sidelined from hearing major government-related or politically sensitive matters. His well-reasoned dissents and his independence of mind are precisely what the powerful quarters seek to avoid. The 27th Amendment would turn such selective sidelining into a constitutional instrument, a legalised form of quiet punishment for judicial courage.
Similarly, we have witnessed such manipulation before. When six judges of the Islamabad High Court raised concerns about interference and pressure within the judiciary, the establishment found a way to neutralise the institution. To fill the vacuum and maintain “balance,” Justice Dogar, from the Lahore High Court, was brought in. The Supreme Court eventually had to hear the matter and stamped the transfer of Justice Dogar. After the 27th Amendment, such transfers and reassignments will become simpler, faster, and legal—no longer requiring coercion when the Constitution itself authorises it.
What this amendment now proposes is not efficiency, but control. It subtly transforms the judiciary from an institution of independence into one of obedience
The principle of consent itself arose from a historic confrontation: a Sindh High Court judge was transferred to the Federal Shariat Court against his will, refusing to accept the posting. The Supreme Court upheld the judge’s right to consent, recognising that forced transfers undermine independence and violate the Constitution’s spirit. What was once a hard-won principle is now being traded away under the garb of reform.
The justification given for last year’s creation of a Constitutional Bench within the Supreme Court was to enhance performance and ensure faster disposal of cases. Yet, statistics tell another story: there has been no significant improvement in the disposal rate. What this amendment now proposes is not efficiency, but control. It subtly transforms the judiciary from an institution of independence into one of obedience.
Across the world, judicial independence is protected through security of tenure. In India, Article 222 allows transfers only upon the recommendation of the Chief Justice of India, and even that power remains controversial and subject to scrutiny. In the United Kingdom, the concept of executive transfers of judges would be unthinkable. Pakistan, however, seems determined to repeat its own mistakes rather than learn from the cautionary tales of others.
The bitter truth is that the Lawyers’ Movement, once the torchbearer of resistance, has lost its moral fire. Today, bar elections revolve around plots, perks, and influence, not principles. The struggle for constitutional independence has been replaced by personal ambition. The only hope, it seems, lies with political parties—yet even that hope is dimming. The 2024 elections further weakened political parties’ autonomy, leaving them with little to no say in matters of institutional reform. The alliances shifted quickly last year: Maulana was the magnet, and this year, he has turned into metal no one needs, while the PPP appears to be the new favourite, seemingly agreeing to terms and conditions to remain relevant in the power matrix.
If we must amend the Constitution, let it be for something that strengthens democracy, not weakens it. If damage must be done elsewhere, at least protect the Local Government system, the only constitutional mechanism that can still connect the public directly to governance. It is time we stop reshaping institutions to suit convenience and instead rebuild them to serve the citizens.
As of now, I will refrain from commenting on Article 243 or other proposed changes, for the draft of the amendment is yet to be seen by Parliament. Without the text, much of what we hear remains hearsay. Yet, if even a fraction of what is being discussed is true, then the 27th Amendment will mark the beginning of another dark chapter—one where the Constitution will once again be used against itself, and judicial independence will become a ceremonial phrase, recited but never lived.