Access to Justice

It was still dark when 45-year-old Shahnaz Bibi sat outside the district court, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders and her eyes tired from countless sleepless nights. She wasn’t a lawyer. She wasn’t even sure what “petition” meant. All she knew was that her husband had died in a road accident six months ago, and the factory he worked for refused to pay the compensation she was legally owed.

This was her third trip to the court. Her case hadn’t moved an inch. The paperwork was incomplete, the clerk demanded money to “speed things up,” and the lawyer she trusted had suddenly vanished. Shahnaz wasn’t just battling a legal case—she was wrestling with a system she didn’t understand.

This is the story of millions—not just in Pakistan, but around the world—who fight every day not just for their rights, but for access to justice.

What Does 'Access to Justice' Really Mean?

Access to justice is more than just having a court or a lawyer. It means being able to understand, pursue, and receive fair treatment under the law, regardless of your status, income, gender, or education.

For the privileged, justice is a phone call away. For the poor, the marginalized, or the uneducated, justice often feels like a locked room with no key. The door is there—but it is guarded by fees, delays, language barriers, corruption, and fear.

The Real Barriers

While laws in many countries—including Pakistan—are designed to protect citizens, the problem lies in implementation. Justice, in theory, is equal. In practice, it's complicated.

Financial Barriers

Legal aid is often limited. A simple land dispute or inheritance case can cost thousands. For someone earning minimum wage, hiring a lawyer or affording multiple court visits is nearly impossible.

Delays and Backlogs

Courts are overloaded. Cases drag on for years—sometimes decades. A child may become an adult waiting for a court to decide if their father’s land belongs to them.

Lack of Legal Awareness

Many don’t know their rights. Women in rural areas may not know they can claim maintenance. Laborers may not know they can challenge wrongful termination.

Gender and Social Discrimination

Women, minorities, and lower-class citizens often face social pressure or fear of backlash when trying to seek justice. "Don't go to court, it will bring shame," they are told.

Corruption and Informal Influence

From bribing a clerk to speeding up a file, to local feudal lords interfering in police investigations—justice is often sold before it's even heard.

A Story of Hope: The Village Court

In a small village near Swat, a different story was unfolding. A young paralegal named Aftab, trained under a legal aid NGO, had been helping villagers understand their legal rights. When a widow named Yasmeen was forcefully evicted from her house by her brother-in-law, she was ready to accept her fate. But Aftab helped her draft an application, took her to the local Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) center, and within weeks, Yasmeen had her home back.

It was not the Supreme Court or a major lawsuit. But to Yasmeen, it was justice. Quick, affordable, and peaceful.

This is where community justice models, legal aid clinics, and paralegal programs can change lives—quietly but powerfully.

The Role of the State and Society

If justice is a right, then the state must guarantee its access. This means:

Expanding legal aid programs

Setting up mobile courts in remote areas

Training police officers and judges to be gender-sensitive and fair

Digitizing court records for transparency

Promoting legal awareness through education and media

But society must also change. We need to destigmatize legal help, especially for women. We must see lawyers not as enemies or unreachable elites, but as tools of empowerment.

Justice Delayed Is Justice Denied

Shahnaz Bibi’s case finally moved forward—not because the system worked smoothly, but because a young intern at the legal aid office noticed her sitting quietly one morning and decided to help. He guided her, filed her papers properly, and helped her attend hearings. Months later, she received her compensation—small, but just enough to send her son back to school.

Her eyes teared up as she left the courtroom. Not because she had won money. But because someone, somewhere, finally listened.

Conclusion: Justice for All

Access to justice isn’t about building more courts—it’s about building trust. It’s about making sure that a poor farmer in Dadu, a housemaid in Rawalpindi, or a widow in Quetta can stand before the law and feel heard—not ignored.

Because when people lose faith in justice, they turn to anger, to violence, or worse—silence. And in a world already divided by wealth, power, and privilege, justice must be the one place where everyone stands equal.

No locked doors. No missing keys. Just fairness.

For all.