By: Hareem Fatima
Modern-day arbitration was once our very own Jirga system. Rooted in trust and community reliance, people looked to the Jirgas to resolve their issues, ranging from family matters and property disputes to even heinous crimes. In a developing era, where formal courts were expensive and inaccessible, the Jirga councils became the primary source of justice.
The idea behind Jirgas was that justice should come from within, from someone familiar with the local customs, cultural norms, and religious values. This deep connection gave Jirgas the authority to control and influence outcomes. But ever wondered what changed? How did a system once revered for its accessibility and authority become a subject of national criticism?
The concept of Jirgas first emerged from the Pashtun tribal code of Pashtunwali in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and the adjacent tribal areas, before spreading to other rural regions of Pakistan. The word “Jirga” literally translates to a “council”, which generally comprises male elders who are the sardars of their respective tribes. These men are known for their experience, wisdom, integrity, and influence over the people. These councils addressed a wide variety of disputes— from land conflicts and family matters to criminal cases and tribal feuds, aiming for a quick, efficient and socially acceptable solution. Local Jirgas in KPK and Balochistan were known for resolving years-long property disputes and offering settlements which were accepted by both the opposing tribes. However, the very qualities that gave the Jirgas a respectable reputation— their cultural rootedness, deep trust, and autonomy— became the bane of their existence.
Over time, this unchecked authority and little to no governmental supervision led to boundless misuse of power, and eventually, justice became highly selective. The decline of Jirgas came when the council members began prioritising personal and political gains over justice itself.
Due to their immense influence and control, their verdicts became impossible to challenge, leaving the parties no way out. Another highly criticised aspect of Jirgas is their incorporation of patriarchy in almost every case that involves a woman. The infamous Mukhtaran Mai incident portrays how Jirgas were openly used to decriminalize violence, forced marriages, and even murder under the guise of tradition and honour. This negative approach of the Jirgas caused a severe wave of criticism from human rights organisations and the judiciary, which eventually led to the Supreme Court of Pakistan officially banning the Jirga system.
However, regardless of the ban, Jirgas are still very much active in rural areas of Pakistan since the courts remain expensive and inaccessible for people residing in remote areas. Their continued presence is proof that tribal communities still depend on these councils for prompt dispute resolution, given the similarity of their core beliefs and familiarity with the framework.
While the imperfections of the Jirga system are irrefutable, eliminating its entire existence would overlook its cultural importance and the crucial role it plays in providing accessible justice in rural Pakistan. With the formal justice being expensive, intricate, and extremely prolonged due to an overwhelming number of cases filed on a daily basis— creating a serious backlog and resulting in delayed justice— people eventually turn to something familiar. This creates an opportunity for the government to revamp the standards of the Jirgas by turning them into the modern-day methods of alternative dispute resolution (ADR) and introducing them as a legal pathway that anyone can opt for.
The major question is not whether Jirgas should exist or not, but whether they should continue functioning without accountability and oversight. These councils still influence a lot of people’s minds, still give out strict and cruel verdicts, still violate basic human rights, and still mistreat women in the name of honour. Therefore, regulation can transform these councils into accountable and culturally sensitive institutions. By reshaping this tradition, Pakistan can protect the vulnerable, prevent abuse, and ensure that community-based justice serves fairness and constitutional values rather than oppression.
ADR generally includes mediation, arbitration, and negotiation, and is a legally recognised method for dispute resolution in major countries like the United States, Canada and the UK.ADR is also recognised in Pakistan; however, its implementation remains limited due to a lack of awareness and informal mechanisms like Jirgas still dominate rural areas.
To make Jirgas a workable and accountable alternative, a practical framework must be established— one that balances traditional values with formal legal oversight. The government can begin by lifting the ban on Jirgas and legally registering them under the provincial government or the ADR framework to ensure accountability. Each Jirga should include trained mediators, with equal female and minority representation. Moreover, council members should receive basic training regarding human rights through judicial academies or specialised NGOs to ensure that their verdicts align with constitutional values. Judicial oversight and an appeal mechanism are also important components of this upgrade to allow the parties to challenge unfair outcomes in district courts. Lastly, every case brought before Jirgas must be documented to ensure transparency and that there is no illegal influence on the council members. Such a framework would preserve the essence of Jirgas while ensuring that each decision remains consistent with Pakistan’s legal principles and human rights commitments.
Critics often disregard the idea of Jirga reform as unrealistic and impossible; however, Pakistan’s own legal system, with its flawed enforcement and chronic delays, indicates that having laws on paper is never enough. At times, even formal court decisions or their prolonged procedures become questionable. In this position, if the state struggles to implement its own laws effectively, to expect the rural communities to completely abolish their centuries-old mechanism is impractical.
Rather than leaving people with no accessible alternative, a regulated, monitored, documented, and legally bound system of Jirgas would provide a safer pathway than the uncontrolled Jirgas that operate today. Rejecting reforms does not eliminate the system; it only allows injustice and abuse to continue unchecked. Because if these councils are still functioning regardless of the ban implemented by the Supreme Court itself, why not regulate and control them, turning them into a vital part of Pakistan’s legal structure? Regulation, therefore, is not a defence for the past but rather a necessary safeguard for the present.
The major question is not whether Jirgas should exist or not, but whether they should continue functioning without accountability and oversight. These councils still influence a lot of people’s minds, still give out strict and cruel verdicts, still violate basic human rights, and still mistreat women in the name of honour. Therefore, regulation can transform these councils into accountable and culturally sensitive institutions. By reshaping this tradition, Pakistan can protect the vulnerable, prevent abuse, and ensure that community-based justice serves fairness and constitutional values rather than oppression.
The writer is a freelance columnist.
