Remembering Afzal Kohistani

Some people become heroes because they seek the spotlight. Others become heroes because they

refuse to look away.

Afzal Kohistani never sought the spotlight. He simply refused to look away.

He did not have a political office, a legal team or a national platform. He was not a television

commentator or a social activist accustomed to public attention. He was simply a man from a

remote part of northern Pakistan who saw something horrible happen and decided that silence

would make him complicit.

That decision cost him his life.

In 2012, a grainy mobile-phone video began circulating from the remote Palas Valley in Kohistan. It

showed four girls clapping and singing, alongside footage of a young man dancing; the clip was

widely described as being linked to a wedding celebration. It was an ordinary moment - a brief

glimpse of celebration captured on a mobile phone.

But within deeply entrenched notions of honour and shame, the video was treated as a scandal.

A local jirga reportedly ruled that the participants had brought dishonour upon their tribe. Soon

afterwards, reports began emerging that the girls linked to the video had been killed.

Many in the community insisted that nothing had happened. Officials initially claimed the girls

were alive. The story was dismissed as rumour and exaggeration.

Afzal Kohistani refused to accept that version of events.

Two boys linked to the video were his brothers. He knew the danger they were in, and he

understood the power of the silence surrounding them. Instead of retreating, he began speaking to

journalists, activists and authorities, insisting that the killings had taken place and that the truth was

being buried.

It was an act of extraordinary courage in a region where challenging entrenched local authority can

be fatal.

The issue he exposed remains painfully relevant today. Gender-based violence continues to haunt

Pakistani society. According to a 2024 report by the Islamabad-based civil society organisation

Sustainable Social Development Organization (SSDO), Pakistan recorded 32,617 cases of gender-

based violence in a single year, including honour killings, domestic violence, rape and other crimes

against women.

Women are still killed for marrying by choice, seeking divorce, refusing proposals or simply

asserting their autonomy.

The language of “honour” disguises what these crimes truly represent: control. Control over

women’s bodies, choices and freedom.

The consequences for Kohistani were swift and brutal.

In 2013, three of his brothers were murdered. He was forced to move repeatedly, living under

constant threat as he continued to press authorities to investigate the case.

For years, he persisted.He filed petitions. He approached courts. He spoke to reporters whenever he could. Again and again, he returned to the same simple demand: the state must investigate what happened to the girls

in the video.

It was an uphill fight. Officials were slow to act, and powerful local interests resisted scrutiny. Yet

the persistence of Kohistani and others eventually forced the state to reopen the case. Investigations

later concluded that at least three of the girls linked to the video had indeed been killed.

The truth he had fought for was finally acknowledged.

But the victory came at a terrible price.

On March 6, 2019, Afzal Kohistani was shot dead in Abbottabad. He had long warned authorities

that his life was in danger and had repeatedly requested protection. None came in time.

His murder was tragically predictable. A man who had challenged powerful social norms and

exposed killings carried out in the name of honour was always going to be a target.

Pakistan lost more than a whistleblower that day. It lost a rare kind of courage.

The story of Afzal Kohistani is not only about one man’s bravery; it is also about the fragile state of

justice in Pakistan. In a functioning system, crimes are investigated by institutions, not exposed by

lone individuals risking their lives.

Yet too often in Pakistan, accountability depends on people like Kohistani - ordinary citizens who

step forward when the state hesitates.

A country where individuals have to risk their lives to secure justice is a country that is broken.

Legal reforms have attempted to address the problem, particularly after high-profile cases sparked

public outrage. But laws alone cannot dismantle the deep social attitudes that engender, sustain and

cover-up such violence. Nor can they replace the courage of individuals willing to challenge those

attitudes.

Afzal Kohistani was, by all accounts, a quiet and determined man who refused to accept that murder

could be hidden behind the language of honour. He pursued the truth even as the threats around him

multiplied. He persisted even after his own family suffered devastating losses; and he continued

speaking long after many others might have chosen the safety of silence.

That kind of moral stubbornness is rare.

As his death anniversary approaches, Pakistan would do well to remember what he stood for. His

courage forced the country to confront a crime that many would have preferred to ignore. His

persistence ensured that the victims in the Kohistan case were not erased from memory.

But remembrance alone is not enough.

The real measure of respect for Afzal Kohistani’s sacrifice lies in whether Pakistan builds a society

where the next person who speaks the truth does not have to die for it.

Until that happens, his story will remain both an inspiration - and an indictment.