Sanaullah and Laiba Noor, residents of the Martung area in District Shangla, had hoped to formalise their relationship through marriage earlier in 2025. Instead, their story ended in tragedy, reflecting the harsh realities of how personal choices can collide with entrenched ideas of family honour, social hierarchy, and communal expectations in many parts of Pakistan.
The two had come to know each other within their shared community. Over time, their acquaintance developed into a mutual understanding, eventually leading them to consider marriage. What they regarded as a legitimate and socially recognised step towards building a future together, however, soon faced resistance shaped by class divisions, family influence, and rigid social norms.
Sanaullah belonged to a modest household with limited economic resources, while Laiba came from a wealthy and politically influential family in the area. When Sanaullah’s family sent several formal marriage proposals to Laiba’s household, each attempt was rejected. The opposition was not rooted in incompatibility or personal disagreement but rather in the rigid stratification of social status and the authority wielded by influential relatives.
According to local accounts, Laiba’s father had shown some willingness to consider the proposal. Yet the extended family, particularly male relatives who exercised significant influence within the household, reportedly opposed the union outright. Fearing for their safety, the couple attempted to leave the area shortly before Eid ul Fitr in an effort to begin a life together elsewhere. Their attempt, however, was intercepted by police at the behest of the family before they could escape.
From that moment onward, the couple’s situation deteriorated rapidly. The threat of retaliation loomed over Sanaullah and his family. According to his father, the sustained pressure and fear severely affected Sanaullah’s mental well-being. He reportedly fell into deep depression and became increasingly withdrawn, at times expressing suicidal thoughts.
In an effort to shield him from harm, the family initially concealed his whereabouts within Khyber Pakhtunkhwa before relocating him to Karachi. At one point, in what he believed was a desperate measure to ensure his son’s safety, Sanaullah’s father reportedly registered a false case against him so that he could remain in custody, assuming that imprisonment might provide greater protection than remaining exposed outside.
This fragile arrangement proved temporary. As Sanaullah’s mental health worsened, his father eventually withdrew the case and brought him back to Shangla. Within days of his return, Sanaullah was shot dead after offering evening prayers.
Women choosing their own spouses, seeking employment outside the household, resisting forced marriages, speaking publicly about abuse, or even interacting with men in social spaces have all been cited as grounds for such killings
The violence did not end there. According to police reports, Laiba Noor was later taken to a remote mountainous area in neighbouring District Buner. There, she was shot and her body abandoned along a roadside.
What started as a dispute over marriage thus evolved into a brutal sequence of events that effectively punished two individuals for exercising their right to choose one another.
Their deaths were not an isolated occurrence. Rather, they represent a pattern of violence that continues to manifest across Pakistan under the justification of preserving family honour.
In many parts of the country, such acts are commonly referred to as honour killings. While the terminology may vary across regions, the underlying premise remains consistent. It is the belief that an individual’s behaviour, particularly that of women, can damage the reputation of the family, and that such perceived dishonour must be rectified through punishment.
The concept itself is neither confined to a single culture nor unique to Pakistan. Historical records indicate that similar ideas about female chastity and male guardianship existed in ancient legal frameworks. The Code of Hammurabi, for example, tied a woman’s legal status closely to the authority of male relatives. Later legal traditions in the Roman Empire reinforced comparable ideas, often treating women as extensions of male property and control.
Over centuries, these beliefs evolved into social customs in various regions of the world. Today, honour-based violence has been documented across South Asia, parts of the Middle East, Africa, and even within certain diaspora communities in Europe and North America.
In Pakistan, the phenomenon takes on region-specific nomenclature. In Sindh, it is widely known as Karo Kari; in Punjab, as Kala Kali; in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, as Tor Tora; and in Balochistan, as Siyah Kari. Although the terminology differs, the rationale in each instance reflects the same logic. It is the belief that perceived violations of social norms, particularly those related to relationships, marriage, or gender roles, warrant violent retribution.
The threshold for what constitutes dishonour can be disturbingly low.
Women choosing their own spouses, seeking employment outside the household, resisting forced marriages, speaking publicly about abuse, or even interacting with men in social spaces have all been cited as grounds for such killings. In conservative patriarchal environments, where family authority over women’s lives is deeply institutionalised, any deviation from prescribed norms may be interpreted as rebellion.
Within such frameworks, women’s autonomy is often viewed not as a fundamental right but as a threat to collective reputation.
Recognising the gravity of the problem, Pakistan has undertaken certain legislative measures aimed at curbing honour-based violence.
One of the most significant reforms occurred in 2016, when parliament enacted amendments to the criminal law addressing honour killings. The reform sought to close a long-standing loophole that previously allowed perpetrators to evade punishment if they received forgiveness from the victim’s family—a provision frequently exploited because the offender and victim often belonged to the same household.
Under the revised legal framework, honour killings are treated as non-compoundable offences, meaning that family pardons can no longer eliminate criminal liability.
Despite this legal progress, implementation remains uneven. In many rural or conservative districts, law enforcement agencies face significant obstacles in registering and pursuing such cases. Social pressure, fear of retaliation, and community reluctance to testify frequently undermine investigations.
As long as honour continues to be defined through control over women’s lives and choices, tragedies like those in Shangla will remain possible
Witnesses often withdraw statements under intimidation. Survivors of attempted honour killings may spend the rest of their lives under threat. Meanwhile, informal dispute resolution mechanisms such as jirgas, though officially prohibited in such matters, continue to exert influence in several areas. These parallel systems sometimes attempt to resolve cases outside the formal judicial process, reinforcing a culture of impunity.
The persistence of honour-based violence cannot be understood in isolation from broader socio-economic conditions. In many communities, women remain economically dependent on their families and possess limited access to education, employment, or inheritance. Such structural dependency reinforces the perception that women are custodians of family reputation rather than individuals with independent rights.
Within this context, personal choices regarding education, employment, or marriage may be interpreted as acts of defiance. Families fearing social stigma sometimes respond with coercion or violence to reassert control.
Cases reported from different provinces illustrate how this dynamic manifests across diverse settings.
In Punjab, particularly in rural districts such as Muzaffargarh and Rajanpur, incidents of Kala Kali continue to surface with alarming frequency. Informal governance structures like panchayats often operate in parallel to state institutions, occasionally influencing community responses to alleged transgressions.
In Sindh, Karo Kari remains deeply embedded in certain tribal contexts. The terminology itself implies the social elimination of those accused of dishonouring the family. Activists working in the region have repeatedly highlighted how political patronage networks and tribal affiliations sometimes shield perpetrators from prosecution.
Khyber Pakhtunkhwa presents another complex environment. In remote districts, where state infrastructure remains limited, traditional councils maintain significant authority. Decisions affecting the lives of individuals, particularly women, may be shaped more by customary codes than by statutory law.
In Balochistan, reports have documented instances where accusations against one individual lead to collective punishment within extended families. In extreme cases, victims have been publicly displayed before execution, reinforcing the authority of tribal leadership structures.
Despite regional variations, the core pattern remains unchanged. Perceived dishonour is treated as a communal offence requiring violent correction. Addressing honour killings, therefore, requires interventions that extend beyond legislative reform.
Strengthening law enforcement capacity in rural districts is essential to ensure that reported cases proceed through formal legal channels. Mechanisms must also be developed to protect witnesses and survivors from retaliation.
Equally important is the establishment of support systems for individuals at risk. Safe houses, legal assistance programmes, and relocation schemes can provide crucial lifelines for those attempting to escape violent family environments. Long-term change, however, will depend heavily on education and economic empowerment.
Expanding educational opportunities, particularly for girls, can help challenge the cultural narratives that equate obedience with virtue. At the same time, initiatives that promote women’s economic participation can reduce dependence on family structures that seek to regulate their choices.
Civil society organisations continue to play a pivotal role in this landscape. Women’s rights groups, community-based activists, and local non-governmental organisations often act as the first responders when individuals face threats of honour-based violence. They operate shelters, provide legal aid, document cases, and advocate for policy reform.
International scrutiny has also contributed to pressure for reform. Pakistan remains a signatory to several United Nations conventions addressing gender equality and human rights. Periodic reviews in international forums have repeatedly highlighted honour killings as an area requiring sustained policy attention.
Yet lasting transformation must ultimately emerge from within society itself.
Changing laws is an important step, but dismantling the ideology that justifies such violence is a far more complex undertaking. As long as honour continues to be defined through control over women’s lives and choices, tragedies like those in Shangla will remain possible.
Each documented case, each investigation pursued, and each voice raised against these practices represents a small but necessary step towards a future where the value of human life is no longer measured against the fragile construct of family honour.