The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists (PFUJ) marked its 75th anniversary this month not in celebration, but in defiance.

What should have been a platinum jubilee commemorating decades of journalistic struggle instead became a stark reminder that in 2025, Pakistan’s media is once again under siege.

The PFUJ’s Federal Executive Council (FEC), which concluded a three-day meeting in Karachi from August 1 to 3, left little doubt about the gravity of the situation. Its Karachi Declaration sounded less like a commemoration and more like a cry of alarm.

Chaired by PFUJ President Afzal Butt, the council gathered not only to honour the union’s legacy but also to confront the creeping authoritarianism threatening to suffocate Pakistan’s press.

The declaration was blunt: the media is being systematically cornered, constitutional freedoms are under assault, and the state’s tightening grip is undoing hard-fought democratic gains.

The timing was telling. As Pakistan stumbles deeper into political polarisation and economic instability, the media — long regarded as the fourth pillar of democracy — has become a battleground.

Instead of providing citizens with a platform for debate and accountability, journalists face repression, censorship, and intimidation from multiple quarters.

The PFUJ used its 75th year to highlight this very betrayal: that despite decades of promises, governments in Pakistan continue to view the press as a threat rather than an essential democratic institution.

At the heart of the Karachi Declaration lies a fierce condemnation of proposed legislation: the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) 2025 amendments and the Punjab Defamation Bill 2024.

Both, the PFUJ warned, are not only “anti-media” but designed with precision to muzzle independent voices.

The choice of language — “uncalled for,” “draconian,” “authoritarian” — underscored the degree of alarm.

In their view, these legal instruments are not about regulation or accountability but about silencing dissent, criminalising journalism, and narrowing the already suffocating space for free expression.

The PECA amendments, in particular, have been flagged as a lethal tool against digital freedoms.

While Pakistan’s rulers argue that such measures are necessary to curb “fake news” and “disinformation,” the PFUJ and other rights defenders see them for what they are: a weapon to intimidate journalists, suppress investigative reporting, and control online narratives.

Likewise, the Punjab Defamation Bill 2024 introduces punitive measures so broad and ambiguous that they risk turning every critical word into a potential offence.

Together, these laws embody an authoritarian mindset that cloaks repression in the language of regulation.

Beyond the legislative assault, the PFUJ spotlighted the grim reality on the ground: journalists facing arbitrary detentions, fabricated cases, and physical violence.

The targeting of reporters through threats, harassment, and attacks has become a routine tactic, wielded by both state and non-state actors.

The declaration demanded accountability for such abuses, but the fact that these demands must be repeated year after year reflects the entrenched impunity surrounding crimes against journalists in Pakistan.

Each unresolved case of assault or murder deepens the culture of fear, pushing more journalists into silence or exile.

Equally alarming is the systemic censorship that the PFUJ condemned.

In a media landscape once hailed as vibrant and diverse, the narrowing of permissible discourse has been swift and suffocating.

Content is pulled under pressure from authorities, dissenting voices are blacklisted, and editorial independence is increasingly compromised.

The Karachi Declaration accused both federal and provincial governments of engineering this climate of control, undermining not only the media but the very foundations of democratic governance.

Yet repression is not limited to censorship and violence. The PFUJ also highlighted the economic strangulation of journalists through mass layoffs and forced retrenchments.

Across print, television, and digital platforms, media workers are being discarded en masse, often without due process or compensation.

Owners cite financial pressures, but the PFUJ sees a darker pattern: the use of financial insecurity as a tool to weaken journalism and keep professionals compliant.

The council reiterated its demand for the long-delayed implementation of the 8th Wage Board Award, which remains unfulfilled despite years of agitation.

Journalists, the union argued, cannot be expected to serve as watchdogs of democracy while their own livelihoods are precarious and their rights disregarded.

The Karachi Declaration also touched upon judicial manipulation, a topic that cuts to the core of Pakistan’s institutional decay.

The PFUJ warned against the use of courts as instruments of political engineering, a practice that further erodes public trust in both justice and democracy.

For journalists, this manipulation is doubly dangerous: it allows trumped-up cases to be pursued with vigour while genuine grievances — including attacks on media professionals — are buried in endless procedural delays.

In marking its 75th year, the PFUJ deliberately chose not to indulge in nostalgia but to sharpen its critique.

Its message was unambiguous: Pakistan’s democratic fabric is fraying, and the erosion of press freedom is both a cause and symptom of that decline.

The declaration cast the struggle for free media as inseparable from the struggle for constitutionalism and citizens’ rights. In doing so, it sought to remind the public that the silencing of journalists is not a problem for the press alone but a direct attack on the people’s right to know.

There was also an international dimension to the PFUJ’s warnings.

The union cautioned that Pakistan’s growing reputation as a hostile environment for journalists undermines its global standing.

With watchdogs and human rights organisations consistently flagging Pakistan as one of the most dangerous countries for media workers, the continuation of repressive policies only deepens the country’s isolation.

The Karachi Declaration argued that every new detention, every assault, and every gag order chips away at Pakistan’s credibility as a democracy on the world stage.

The PFUJ’s platinum jubilee, then, becomes a paradox. It is both a testament to resilience and an indictment of regression.

For 75 years, the union has stood as a bulwark against censorship and coercion, weathering dictatorships, political transitions, and economic upheavals.

Yet in 2025, its central message is one of alarm: that authoritarian laws, systemic violence, and economic coercion are threatening to suffocate the very freedoms it has fought to defend.

As the Karachi Declaration made clear, the anniversary is less about looking back at past victories and more about confronting a present steeped in uncertainty.

The PFUJ’s rallying cry is not celebratory but defiant, a reminder that in Pakistan, the battle for press freedom is never truly won but must be waged again and again.

The platinum jubilee could have been a moment of pride — a time to acknowledge the sacrifices of generations of journalists who kept the torch of free expression alive despite relentless odds. Instead, it served as a mirror reflecting a darker truth: that in 2025, Pakistan’s media stands shackled, its independence imperilled, its practitioners vulnerable.

The PFUJ’s 75th anniversary is not just a milestone but a warning — that the struggle for press freedom remains unfinished, and the forces of authoritarianism remain alive and entrenched.