The news of the proposed transfer of several Lahore High Court judges has left many of us unsettled in a way that is difficult to articulate. For those who have observed these judges closely, this development feels like a profound loss for the judiciary and for all who depend on it.
At the Lahore High Court Multan Bench, as a lawyer I have witnessed how remarkably intelligent, diligent and fair these judges are. Watching them at work makes one suddenly understand the origins of the old protocol requiring barristers to bow when entering and leaving the courtroom. These gestures were meant to acknowledge the dignity of the judicial office, yet with judges like these, respect arises naturally. Their demeanour, clarity and judicial composure elevate the court. They show that the authority of the bench need not be harsh to be commanding, and that legal power, when exercised with restraint and principle, becomes a source of assurance rather than intimidation. For young lawyers, they create an environment where one feels safe to learn, safe to err and safe to grow.
This is not a plea against administrative reform. It is a plea to recognise the fragility of institutions and the irreplaceable worth of those who uphold them. Judges like Justice Karim, Justice Hafeez, Justice Hussain and Justice Sethi are not merely adjudicators; they are stabilising forces in a legal system that desperately needs them. If their transfers proceed, we risk losing not just experienced judges but examples of what judicial service ought to be
The numbers alone tell a compelling story. A bench including Justice Asim Hafeez, Justice Anwaar Hussain and Justice Shahid Karim disposed of more than 5,000 cases in just 24 days and over 8,000 within a slightly longer period at the Multan Bench. This was not mechanical speed but disciplined efficiency, achieved without sacrificing thoughtfulness or care. It is rare to see such harmony and commitment among judges, and rarer still to see it translate into measurable public good.
Justice Shahid Karim stands out for his steadfast integrity. His judicial record reflects a deep commitment to principle and a refusal to compromise on institutional independence. His order restraining intelligence agencies from contacting judges or their staff directly was emblematic of a judge who understands the fragility of judicial autonomy and is willing to defend it openly. Beyond this, he carries a legacy familiar to many of us: he is the son of Justice Fazal Karim, whose teachings at LUMS shaped generations of lawyers. In him, we see a continuation of that intellectual discipline, clarity of thought and moral courage.
Justice Asim Hafeez embodies fairness in its purest form. One of the most formative moments of my legal career happened in his courtroom. I was a new associate then, still learning how little I understood about the complexities of litigation. We were representing respondents in a high-stakes matter; the petitioners were led by the sitting High Court Bar president, a figure whose influence in Multan’s legal circles was formidable. While working on the case, I spent three days searching for relevant case law on a narrow but decisive point of law. I eventually found a judgment from the 1960s that had never been overturned. When we presented it, Justice Hafeez examined it attentively, paused only briefly and dismissed the petition. That moment was extraordinary not merely because of the outcome, but because he allowed the law to guide his decision, even when doing so ran counter to prevailing pressures. In a city where bar associations often shape the courtroom environment, his fidelity to principle was a lesson in courage and fairness.
Justice Anwaar Hussain contributes something equally essential yet distinct. His academic background is formidable, but what defines him on the bench is the quality of his judgment. There is a calm intellectual discipline in the way he reasons, a rare ability to separate noise from substance. His manner is gentle, his questioning measured, his decisions guided by a quiet but unmistakable commitment to justice. He is a judge who listens, truly listens, and whose fairness is evident not only in the outcomes he reaches but in the process by which he arrives at them. For a young lawyer, there is immense reassurance in appearing before someone who treats every argument with dignity, every lawyer with respect and every case with the seriousness it deserves.
Justice Sajid Mehmood Sethi is a study in endurance, humility and tireless dedication. I have seen him hear nearly a hundred urgent matters in a single day, issuing reasoned orders in each one, all while also managing long lists of regular cases. His patience never frays; his tone never hardens. His work ethic would challenge even the most seasoned jurist. When his mother passed away, we were told that he asked for case files the very next day so he could continue working. That kind of duty cannot be taught. It comes from a profound respect for the office he holds and for those who appear before him.
Taken together, these judges represent some of the best that the judiciary has to offer. They are principled without being rigid, decisive without being harsh and efficient without compromising thought. Their conduct gives young lawyers hope that the profession still contains figures who live up to its ideals. I never imagined myself pursuing litigation, yet seeing these individuals on the bench made me believe that perhaps this profession still had space for integrity, fairness and sincerity. They were not just judges in the institutional sense; they became reasons to stay.
I do not know the politics or calculations behind these proposed transfers. I do not claim insight into the considerations driving them. But what I do know is that the removal or relocation of judges of this calibre weakens more than the roster of a particular bench. It weakens belief, belief that competence is recognised, that fairness is valued and that independence is protected. It sends a troubling message to lawyers and litigants alike: that even the most sincere and capable among us are not safe from arbitrary reconfiguration.
This is not a plea against administrative reform. It is a plea to recognise the fragility of institutions and the irreplaceable worth of those who uphold them. Judges like Justice Karim, Justice Hafeez, Justice Hussain and Justice Sethi are not merely adjudicators; they are stabilising forces in a legal system that desperately needs them. If their transfers proceed, we risk losing not just experienced judges but examples of what judicial service ought to be.
We cannot afford that loss.
