Any Pakistani who has attempted to access the Internet in recent days has suffered slow speeds and connectivity issues, hampering communication and economic pursuits.
According to Minister of State for Information Technology and Telecommunication Shaza Fatima Khawaja, the slowdown is a result of the government “upgrading” its web management system to boost cybersecurity. Multiple reports, however, point the finger at the implementation and testing of a national firewall aimed at restricting access to “anti-state” content, particularly any criticism of state organs such as the judiciary and the armed forces.
Spearheaded by the incumbent government led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, the initiative has taken on an outsized role in the public discourse, with critics voicing concern that it is naked attempt to monitor and control online content, hampering the public’s constitutional right to freedom of expression. A key reason for the concern expressed by Pakistanis is the country’s unfortunate history with internet policing. Citing myriad reasons—ranging from blasphemy to pornography to misinformation—Islamabad has previously “blocked” major social media platforms YouTube, Tumblr and TikTok before eventually restoring access to them. Since February, the government has blocked access to X, formerly Twitter, though most government officials continue to utilize the platform through the use of VPNs in seeming violation of their own policies. This hypocrisy is especially galling for Pakistanis who, in recent days, have been unable to even fully access WhatsApp as the “upgrade” of the web management system persists.
Khawaja has sought to dampen the concern, claiming the anxiety is “overblown” and maintaining such firewalls are utilized globally. While it is true that firewalls are a common tool to regulate digital spaces, it is misleading to claim their use in a majority of foreign states is in line with the utility reportedly envisaged by the state of Pakistan. Generally, states have utilized firewalls to help combat provocative and harmful content. The most stringent example is that of neighboring China, which implemented its “Great Firewall” in the early 2000s. The initiative effectively bars access to global platforms such as Google, Facebook and Twitter, but offers local alternatives such as Baidu and WeChat—unlike Pakistan.
Apart from access to foreign platforms, the Chinese firewall also restricts the circulation of any content the Chinese government deems harmful or politically sensitive, including protests, calls for dissent or even general criticism of the government. Beijing is by no means unique in its severe internet restrictions; Saudi Arabia has similar measures in place to mitigate contrarian religious and cultural beliefs, while Russia has banned multiple social media platforms and Iran restricts content perceived as anti-establishment. Under Pakistan’s existing laws, such blanket restrictions are unlikely; but achieving the same requires little more than simple legislation for which the incumbent government has sufficient numbers.
In partial support of Khawaja’s contention, several Western countries also have certain internet restrictions implemented in their territorial jurisdictions. The United Kingdom has the Investigatory Powers Act, which grants its government extensive surveillance privileges and allows for the filtering of pornographic or extremist material. Germany has the similar Network Enforcement Act, requiring all social media platforms to remove harmful content within a certain timeframe to counter hate speech and extremist beliefs, while Australia has a content moderation policy aimed at preventing any access to material exploiting children.
There is no denying the benefits of certain restrictions on internet use—after all, no one would argue against blocking access to content harming children or inciting extremism. However, Pakistan’s case is significantly different because the public no longer trusts its government to remain within reasonable limits when implementing such bans. Successive governments have all attempted to force greater controls on free speech, with vows of the firewall’s implementation having no impact on the average Pakistani largely falling on deaf ears—especially after the recent slowdowns allegedly linked to its testing.
An oft-repeated phrase in public relations is how it is less relevant what is actually happening, and more what people believe is happening. The fact remains that public distrust about the government’s intentions with its firewall is unlikely to subside so long as authorities refuse to be fully transparent about what type of content it would target—or even whether or not it has been fully implemented. Claims, mostly from second-hand sources, of the firewall only targeting “anti-state” content hints at the possibility of significant abuse, as one man’s “anti-state” commentary can be another’s “justified” criticism. While the government’s ultimate aims might be noble, if it cannot convince the public of its sincerity, any benefits the measure may yield are unlikely to prove fruitful.