Over the years, scores of Pakistanis have suffered at the hands of a society that still finds itself captive to the omnipotent powers of feudalism and religious fundamentalism – and more often than not, the most brutally subdued and repressed of these have been women and minority communities. Large sections continue to hold the view that women are akin to property – a source of pride and power, and as a possession with which they can do as they please. A liberal ethos could never take root, with successive governments using religion and tradition as a means of garnering mass support and legitimacy.

In such a setting, human rights activists devoted entirely to the cause of obtaining justice and equal rights for the marginalized millions represent more than a mere ray of hope, but rather, a beacon of shining light in Pakistan. Asma Jehangir is one such human rights activist who, by spending her life defending the fundamental rights of women, children and religious minorities in the country, has beamed brightness into the lives of many silent sufferers and in the process, endured several threats and attempts on her life.

Today, she is Chairperson of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), an independent body of lawyers and activists and a United Nations Special Rapporteur on freedom of religious belief and extra-judicial killings. A recipient of the Sitara-i-Imtiaz Award in Pakistan and the Ramon Magsaysay Award, Asia’s most prestigious human rights honour, she declined an offered post as the first female judge on the Pakistan Supreme Court, stating she thought she could effect more change as an activist.

Asma learnt the ins and outs of law and politics early in life. As a young woman of barely eighteen, she filed her first petition to have her father released from jail and started working with lawyers on his defense. Her father, Malik Jilani, was a politician who spent several years in jail and under house arrest for opposing a string of military dictatorships and indulging in open criticism of the actions of the Pakistani military in Bangladesh. It was in this sort of environment that his daughter grew up – with her father’s experiences leaving their indelible mark on her.

After earning a law degree in the late seventies, Asma joined forces with fellow activists and lawyers to form Pakistan’s first law firm established entirely by women. Later in the mid-80s, she shot to popularity when she rallied women to take to the streets and protest against the verdicts in some high profile cases. In one instance, Safia Bibi, a blind maidservant, had been brutally gang-raped. Under the provisions of the Hudood Ordinance, she then ended up in jail on charges of adultery. It took a colossal outcry in the country to save Safia’s life.

“Female complainants of rape, who were pregnant, were punished under zina. Public whipping of women was ordered. Public outrages dampened the zeal of the courts from time to time, but then they came back with dogmatic rulings,” details Asma.

The introduction of the Hudood laws into the Pakistani constitution in 1979 as part of the Islamization process during the martial law reign of General Zia ul-Haq found a staunch critic in Asma Jehangir right at the outset. The declared objective of the law was to bring existing legislation in conformity with the injunctions of Islam and General Zia was satisfied that “circumstances” existed which rendered it necessary “to take immediate action.”

The Hudood Ordinances comprise of five separate laws. The most controversial and widely quoted of these is the Zina Ordinance, which deals with sexual crimes such as rape and classifies all sex outside marriage as a serious penal offence, defining it as zina. If proven, the maximum punishment is death by stoning, although most women end up spending years in prison.

“Those who married against the wishes of their families, wives who wished to seek separation and single women could effortlessly be accused of zina and be promptly arrested by the police,” she notes.

The burden of proof, which requires four adult Muslim male witnesses of the act, rests with the hapless victims. Failure to prove allegations of rape can have potentially disastrous consequences, with the victim being branded an offender of Qazf, or slander, punishable by whipping or even death. Women often end up paying with their lives, dignity and honour.

“The predicament for women was the implementation of a law that permitted the indictment of those complaining that they were raped and by the application of zina as a grave offence with a broad definition.”

The outcome was the unwarranted imprisonment of countless innocents and the use of the law as a tool in the hands of those who wished to exploit women. Women who had the nerve to report a rape were often accused of zina and jailed, while their offenders walked away scot-free, never to be investigated by the authorities.

“After 32 years of independence, the military dictator considered it critical to control the sexuality of citizens by taking immediate action in subjecting them to the worst forms of punishment,” scoffs Asma.

The Land of the Pure is among a handful of countries where violence against women is on the rise. According to figures released by the HRCP, approximately a thousand women die in Pakistan every year due to karo-kari, or honour killings. Add to the count those who suffer domestic violence, are burnt with acid or kerosene and it reeks of what seems like an almost visceral hatred towards women. A string of shocking cases spring to mind – the most famous being the Mukhtaran Mai case, the Sui rape case, and Bilal Khar’s calculated pouring of acid on his wife’s face.

Asma and her band of lawyers, which includes her sister Hina Jilani, have been instrumental in lobbying the Pakistani leadership to pass the “Protection of Women Act” (PWA) that brought much-needed reforms, albeit marginal, to the dreaded Hudood laws. For instance, marital rape is now acknowledged as a punishable crime. The passing of the bill into law late last year has been described by many as a step in the right direction for women’s rights, but as a triumph for fighters like Asma. However, there are many more battles left to fight. As Asma qualifies, “In essence, the PWA has simply addressed some, not all the glaring discriminations and injustices meted out to women by the Hudood Ordinances”

What is truly heartening, however, is that her ideals have rubbed off on a whole generation of socially conscious young Pakistanis who want to make a difference. A few months back, Jehangir was in New York to speak at an event sponsored by the Asian Network against Abuse of Women (ANAA) and lend her support to their battles. Set up by some concerned expatriate Pakistani doctors in the States, they run an active website at 4anaa.org and host events to highlight the gender apartheid running amok in the country, generate international publicity and pressurize the government to act.

Jehangir and her colleagues continue to shield women whose families are baying for their blood – only because they abandoned abusive spouses, or dared to commit the crime of falling in love. She demands justice for women who are murdered in acts of karo-kari. She probes the fate of prisoners who disappear in police custody. She represents religious minorities in Pakistan who are clapped in chains as a result of injudicious applications of blasphemy laws.

“Denial of equal rights to religious minorities is a serious violation and gives rise to religious intolerance,” she maintains.

In essence, Jehangir rails against the innumerable injustices that plague her homeland, with a force and bravado that often finds her powerful enemies and that has made her one of the most controversial figures in Pakistan. One hopes that she will fight on, and that she will continue to inspire young minds. The passing of a bill may be a transient victory, the real challenge is to establish a system of accountability.

Yet there are those who long for Jehangir to stop rocking the boat and just vanish. Some years back, a couple of attempts were made on her life and her escapes from peril can only be described as providential. Thankfully, however, there are many more who are proud of her achievements and laud her pains, as fellow Pakistanis begin to realise the immense worth of a voice that is capable of challenging authority and demanding justice and equality.