When the most vulnerable members of a nation are repeatedly subjected to sexual violence, torture and murder, the crisis extends far beyond law and order. It becomes a moral failure. The past week has delivered two such horrifying reminders. In Sargodha, a seven-year-old girl was reported to have been sexually assaulted before being brutally murdered inside a neighbourhood shop she frequently visited. Preliminary post-mortem findings point towards rape and reveal multiple injuries inflicted before her death. Before the public could even begin to process that tragedy, another gruesome case emerged in Karachi, where a three-year-old girl was found stuffed inside a gunny bag outside her own home after what doctors described as a violent sexual assault. Even seasoned medical professionals called it one of the most disturbing cases they had encountered. These are not isolated acts committed by monstrous individuals who exist outside society. They are part of a deeply troubling pattern that continues to haunt Pakistan. Sahil’s March 2026 report paints a grim picture: 3,630 child abuse cases were reported in 2025 alone – an average of more than nine children abused every day. The figures represent an eight per cent increase over the previous year. Hundreds of children were raped, sexually assaulted, abducted or murdered after abuse. Particularly disturbing is the fact that, in many cases, the perpetrators were not strangers lurking in the shadows but people known to the victims and their families.
Predictably, each fresh tragedy is followed by official promises of swift investigations, special inquiry committees and assurances that the culprits will be brought to justice. In the Sargodha case, however, questions have already begun to emerge after the prime suspect was killed during what police described as an encounter following his escape from custody. Whether the official account withstands scrutiny or not, such developments only deepen public scepticism about investigations expected to uncover the complete truth. Justice requires far more than the elimination of a suspect. Pakistan has repeatedly demonstrated that public outrage alone does not translate into lasting reform. The nationwide protests after the rape and murder of Zainab Ansari in Kasur led to tougher laws and stronger penalties, yet the cycle of violence has continued. The challenge begins long before a crime is committed. Child protection remains fragmented across provinces, while schools rarely teach children age-appropriate personal safety or equip them to recognise abuse. Parents are often uncomfortable discussing such issues, leaving children unable to identify inappropriate behaviour or report it confidently. Families facing economic hardship are especially vulnerable, with children often left unsupervised or dependent on informal neighbourhood networks where trust is assumed rather than earned. The state must therefore move beyond reactive policing towards genuine prevention.
No measures will succeed, however, unless society also confronts its own complacency. Too often, conversations about child abuse remain cloaked in silence because families fear dishonour more than they seek justice. That silence protects predators. Communities must abandon the instinct to suppress uncomfortable truths and instead recognise that reporting abuse is not a source of shame but an act of protection. Every few months, Pakistan mourns another child whose life ends in unimaginable brutality. If these latest tragedies are allowed to become just another entry in an ever-growing list of horrors, then the country will once again have failed those who depended on it most.
Editorial Published in The News, June 29th, 2026.
