Senior Journalist Matiullah Jan’s Arrest Spotlights Pakistan’s Press Freedom Crisis

Lahore: On November 28 (Thursday), journalist Matiullah Jan was picked up by what they call ‘namaloom afraad’ (unknown persons.) In Pakistan, they are known by several names – farishtey (angels), ‘lumber one’ (as in number one in the world), khalai makhlooq (space aliens), and most absurd of all, mehkma-e-zaraat (department of agriculture). Of course, all of these names have a story. This wasn’t Jan’s first brush with them. 

When Jan was picked up in July 2020, he made a video after his release 12 hours later in which he revealed, in his signature sardonic way, that the first thing he saw along the unknown road where he was set free by the ‘namalooms’, was a sign board that said ‘mehkma-e-zarat’.

Known for his scathing commentary, Jan is often in trouble. He was a vocal critic of the previous Imran Khan government, and irked them to the extent that he was made to resign from the television channel where he hosted a talk show. 

He has been critical of the military and its constant interference with civilian rule, often making jokes about the army top brass.

In July 2020, he invited the ire of then Chief Justice of Pakistan Gulzar Ahmed, who took suo moto notice of one of his tweets which was allegedly ‘derogatory’ towards the judiciary. A three-member bench was constituted to hear the case. However, a day before his court hearing, Jan was abducted from outside his house and remained missing for the next 12 hours amidst silence from the authorities.

He was released and told to go home at the time. But things were different this time. 

Islamabad protests

Four days before his abduction, on November 24, the Pakistan Tehreek-i-Insaf (PTI)  began its “do-or-die” protest with the aim to push the government to release their party leader Imran Khan from the Adiala Prison (Rawalpindi). Led by Khan’s wife, burqa-clad Bushra Bibi, this was a sea of angry protesters who had been seething ever since general elections this year. 

Their party – one of the biggest mainstream parties of the country – was banned by the Election Commission of Pakistan from fighting the elections. 

Khan has been imprisoned for over a year and faces over 150 criminal charges. His supporters say it’s all politically motivated. 

During the elections, PTI leaders fought independently in the hope of winning – and many of them did win. But tables were turned and results were reversed at the last minute in some of the polling stations. There were serious allegations of all-round rigging, and party supporters felt their mandate was stolen from them. The Muslim League (Nawaz), which was an irritant for the PTI had now become a sworn enemy.

In Islamabad, the protest turned violent and six people were killed, including four security personnel, after a vehicle drove through the crowd. Separately, a policeman was also killed. In order to contain the crowd, the military was called and an operation ensued. 

According to veteran journalist Hamid Mir, police had been called not just from the capital city, but from Lahore and other areas as well. There were rangers (paramilitary forces) present on the scene and even the army was called later. 

“In spite of all this security, the PTI had still managed to enter and take control of D-Chowk (near parliament),” says Mir. “I myself saw – and have collected footage as well – that when the security forces saw that PTI had entered, they shook hands with them, took their weapons and left the scene.”

However, the mainstream media could report on these developments. “Media was under pressure and could not openly report,” said Mir. 

He said that when the PTI supporters were being pushed back from the state, there was so much firing and shelling that it seemed like a war zone. 

“I saw some of them being injured with rubber bullets, some with tear gas shells,” said Mir. “But I did not see anyone being hit by Klashinkov or rifle bullets.”

Main roads had been blocked with containers, there were orders for everyone including the media crews to leave, as there was to be a blackout. In the darkness of the night, the armed forces fired at protesters.

However, by the time the operation was over, there were disparate rumours about PTI supporters being killed. There was a list of names, of those who were brought dead to the Federal Government’s Polyclinic Hospital, circulating online. Some PTI leaders and supporters are still of the belief that hundreds of their people have died. Others are counting in dozens. 

It seemed like walls have been built around this information. The polyclinic hospital denied having any bodies, except one, and said the ‘list was fake’. The security forces termed the news of these deaths as “false and fabricated”, saying that users on social media were spreading propaganda. 

But a day ago, hospital reports had admitted that the clashes had left 10 people dead and 71 injured.

Why was Jan abducted?

On November 28, Jan was at one of the biggest hospitals in Islamabad, the Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences (PIMS), to verify the number of people killed and injured. He was accompanied by fellow journalist Saquib Bashir. 

As he stood in the parking lot, unknown persons in a vehicle abducted him and Bashir. Later Bashir was released. “This does not concern you,” he was told, according to information.

At first Matiullah was missing and could not be traced. It was later discovered that he had been arrested and was being held at the Margalla Police Station.

After the abduction, Jan’s son, Abdul Razzaq, said that the only reason his father had been abducted was because of his journalism. 

Matiullah himself said this as he was brought to court the next day, in connection with charges related to possession of drugs. 

“All friends know that it is all fabricated – I don’t even smoke a cigarette,” said Jan as he walked into court next morning. “We are not afraid; we will keep our journalistic work going.”

On being asked about the state’s treatment and reasons given for his arrest, Jan said, “It is terrible, it is ruining the reputation of the state’s institutions. The reason is what we all know – I was working on the case of dead bodies.”

False charges

The first information report (FIR) states that Jan was found driving in an intoxicated state, and caught with 250 grams of ‘ice’ (crystal meth) under his car seat; it also included an offence under the anti-terrorism act (ATC) for allegedly intimidating and terrorising police personnel deployed at the road barrier.

“This is so shameful, and whatever little hope that people had on the judicial system has now been destroyed,” said Jan’s counsel Imaan Mazari. Mazari herself is a human rights activist and is often caught in the crosshairs for being vocal on issues like enforced disappearances. She is the daughter of Shireen Mazari, PTI’s former federal minister for human rights.

“You pick on someone like Matiullah Jan, slap these narcotic cases on him, and then make it worse by giving him a two-day remand,” she said. “We will challenge this court.”

Jan was released on Saturday (November 30). But the case has had its intended chilling effect.

“With the increase of such baseless cases on those who speak out, it means we are simply regressing into the past,” said Hadi Ali, another counsel for Matiullah Jan. “This is not the 70s or the 80s where you silence your opponents by planting fake evidence, or slapping them with bogus cases.”

He said that when Jan initially began investigating the issue, he was forcibly disappeared. However, following an outcry on social media, he was abruptly charged in a drugs case.

“It was all done very crudely and now I believe they [police] have trapped their own selves in this.” Once a person is acquitted of a narcotics case, it will have to then be proved by the police where the drugs came from. The lawyers are planning to put a counter case on the police.

While no one is willing to say it outright, a tongue-in-cheek tweet by human rights activist and lawyer Asad Jamal hints at it. “The FIR against Matiullah Jan isn’t baseless,” said Jamal on X. “He’s a crazy journalist. Deserves to be tried by a military court, the most effective justice delivery forum.”

The tweet did not sit well with many who refused to recognise gallows humour. But some believe that dark humour has become the only way to be able to say things openly in Pakistan. 

Jamal laughs at those who believe he would actually be calling for a military trial. He has been an outspoken critic of enforced disappearances and other such crimes.

“It’s not happening for the first time, and definitely not for the last time; how is a person meant to react when you see something as absurd as this?” he asks. “Some people were tweeting against Jan as if he was a vicious person. I have always written against military courts. Why would I support them?”

Two days after Matiullah was arrested, a Lahore-based reporter Shakir Awan was picked up from his home. According to Awan’s brother, he was roughed up by these ‘unknown persons’, who also raided the house. Some of them were in the police uniform, but most were in plain clothes, with their faces masked. 

Media freedom in Pakistan

In 2024, Pakistan dropped down two more places on its press freedom index according to data collected by the RSF (Reporters Without Borders). According to the index, Pakistan now ranks 152 out of 180 countries, compared to its standing at 150 in last year’s index. 

RSF had observed that the government had direct control over media regulators, which “systematically favour defence of the government over the public’s right to information. It also highlighted that ‘as the military has steadily tightened its grip on civilian institutions, coverage of military and intelligence agency interference in politics has become off limits for journalists.’

State elements did not even spare Freedom Network, a well-respected media watchdog. A meeting that FN was holding with journalists from South Punjab was suddenly raided upon and stopped by men in plain clothes accompanied by officials from the Punjab Police. 

They were told to ‘stop the meeting and leave the district’. 

“The case against Matiullah is symbolic,” says Islamabad journalist Asad Ali Toor, who has himself been roughed up by ‘masked men’. “They are trying to silence an investigating journalist, and have spelled out that they will slap cases against those who try to go against the state narrative.”