In Pakistan’s civil justice system, delay has become a routine expectation rather than an exception. Litigants often spend years, even decades, waiting for relief that should have been delivered within months. The causes of this chronic delay are not mysterious: respondents ignore court notices, bureaucrats refuse to comply, lawyers stretch adjournments to exhaustion, and many litigants deliberately exploit procedural loopholes. Yet amid this culture of stagnation, there are moments that prove delay is not an unavoidable fate. When courts choose to wield the tools already available to them—firmly and consistently—justice can accelerate with remarkable speed.
Muhammad Arif
A remarkable example from the Rawalpindi district judiciary illustrates this truth vividly. A principled Civil Judge who has recently been transferred from south Punjab, was confronted with an extraordinary case: a court order regarding the cancellation of an illegal land mutation had remained unimplemented for over two decades. For two decades, revenue officials simply refused to obey the judgment. The bureaucracy treated the order with casual indifference; the aggrieved party endured a slow erosion of rights without any remedy. Then, within a single hearing, everything changed. The judge issued arrest warrants against the Assistant Commissioner, Deputy Commissioner, and Commissioner of the relevant jurisdiction. After their deliberate absence/surrender, he directed stoppage of their salaries until compliance was achieved. Such orders were not symbolic—they were judicial actions grounded in law and enforceable through contempt and execution mechanisms.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Officers who had ignored the case for decades suddenly appeared in court with urgency. Files that had vanished in the bureaucracy were recovered and placed before the court. Compliance that seemed impossible for two decades was achieved within days. The illegal mutation was corrected not because the law changed, but because the court’s resolve changed. Judicial authority, once exercised firmly, transformed institutional behaviour overnight.
After the hearing, the judge candidly shared a philosophy that underpins his approach. He explained that he grants restraining orders—stay orders, injunctions, prohibitory orders—readily and deliberately, not as favour but as instruments of case management. In his experience, restraining orders do not delay justice; they accelerate it. A well-crafted restraining order compels respondents to act. Once restrained, respondents can no longer afford indifference. They must appear, submit replies, produce documents, and engage actively in the litigation. The restraining order becomes a pressure point that eliminates procedural drift. When respondents know the court has restrained their actions, they feel the weight of legal risk. Their incentive is no longer to delay the case—it is to move it forward.
This philosophy is counter intuitive only because our judicial culture has become numb to the idea of consequences. In Pakistan, respondents generally do not act unless compelled. Bureaucrats do not respond unless pressured. Private litigants do not hurry unless restrained. When restraining orders, arrest warrants, attachment of properties, and stoppage of salaries are used decisively with the aim to ensure timely compliance, they revive the authority of the court and restore discipline to the litigation process. These tools are not extraordinary powers; they are lawful remedies explicitly provided under procedural law, contempt jurisdiction, and inherent judicial authority to secure the ends of justice.
A restraining order is often the first nudge that generates urgency. When a party is prevented from altering property status, changing revenue records, executing documents, or taking any consequential step, the inertia breaks. The restrained respondent now has something to lose. The natural response is to file a reply sooner, prepare documentation earlier, and avoid absence from hearings. Silence is no longer safe. Action becomes necessary. The restraining order thus converts passive litigation into active engagement.
Arrest warrants, when issued against non-compliant officials, amplify this urgency. They demonstrate that judicial orders cannot be treated as optional. For bureaucrats, arrest warrants carry reputational and administrative consequences that far exceed the inconvenience of appearing in court. They trigger internal disciplinary processes and compel immediate legal compliance. When arrest warrants are coupled with warnings of contempt, they create an environment where delay becomes dangerous, not convenient.
Attachment of properties has an equally potent effect. It transforms a respondent’s non-compliance from a legal dispute into a personal financial risk. Attachment orders—whether against personal property or official assets—signal that the court will convert disobedience into tangible loss. Respondents who previously delayed the case now invest energy into resolving it. They file applications, produce records, and participate actively. The threat of attachment does what years of polite notices cannot.
Stoppage of salaries is perhaps the strongest administrative tool available against government officers. Salary stoppage cuts through bureaucratic arrogance instantly. It activates internal reporting chains, forces senior officers to intervene, and restores the seriousness of judicial orders. Officers who once ignored court summons now pursue compliance themselves. They become answerable to their superiors, their departments, and ultimately the law.
Together, restraining orders, arrest warrants, attachment of properties, and salary stoppages form a powerful set of judicial instruments that transform behaviour, accelerate procedural steps, and enable early disposal of cases. They create fear where there was complacency, discipline where there was indifference, and urgency where there was delay. They shift the burden of inertia from the litigant to the respondent. They bring the case out of the shadow of endless adjournments and into the light of active adjudication.
Critics may argue that such measures must be used cautiously. This is true. These tools must not become instruments of oppression. They must be used proportionately, transparently, and with clear judicial reasoning. But when applied responsibly, they do not hinder justice—they enable it. They restore the court’s rightful authority and protect the constitutional mandate of fair trial under the Constitution of Pakistan.
The Rawalpindi judge’s philosophy offers a replicable template for the entire judiciary. Without new laws, without additional budgets, without structural reforms, trial courts can dramatically accelerate justice by using powers already vested in them. Delay is not intrinsic to the system; it is a failure of enforcement. When judges choose firmness over hesitation, the results are immediate and trans formative. One firm order can make decades move in a single day. ( Opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect WNAM’s editorial policy).
The author writes on current affairs relating to law, governance, and institutional reform with a focus on accelerating justice delivery and strengthening public-sector accountability. Drawing from decades of experience in Pakistan’s energy, regulatory, and legal sectors, he advocates evidence-based, citizen-centered solutions for systemic improvement.He can be reached at 0333-5191381; [email protected]
