The scars of impunity: Pakistan’s failure to end acid attacks

On June 6, Quetta’s Civil Hospital became the site of yet another harrowing act of violence when Dr. Mahnoor Nasir, a young physician, was attacked with acid while on duty. Seventy percent of her body was burned, her face, chest, and legs mutilated in an instant. The assailant, a hospital employee tasked with operating the lift, knocked on her door and hurled acid when she stepped out. He fled but was later killed in a police encounter. The Young Doctors Association rightly condemned the “inadequate security arrangements” that allowed such an atrocity to occur within the supposed sanctity of a medical institution.

This case is part of a grim continuum. On June 3, 2026, a 17‑year‑old girl in Ghotki district was attacked by her cousin, Miandad Mahar, who objected to her family keeping a mobile phone at home. She suffered severe burns to her face, eyes, chest, and arms. January 2024, a schoolteacher in Lahore was disfigured when two men threw acid on her face after her parents rejected a marriage proposal. May 2024, a policewoman in Karachi was critically injured when her husband hurled acid on her near a graveyard, leaving her with 33 percent burns. August 2025, Shazia Bib, a 32‑year‑old woman in Bahawalpur, was attacked by a neighbor during a property dispute. June 2025, Basharat Ali of Okara threw acid on his mother‑in‑law and teenage son, blaming her for his failed marriage. Each of these incidents underscores the same brutal reality: acid is wielded as a weapon of patriarchal vengeance, ego, and control, leaving women mutilated for rejecting advances, resisting oppression, or simply existing with autonomy.

Pakistan’s legislative response has been woefully inadequate. The Criminal Law (Amendment) Bill 2011, touted as a milestone, failed to regulate the purchase of acid, which remains easily available at chemist shops for as little as Rs80. The law focused on punishing perpetrators but offered no meaningful compensation or rehabilitation for victims. Families are left to shoulder the crushing financial, psychological, and emotional burden of treatment. Later measures, such as the Acid and Burn Crime Act, 2018, extended prison sentences to 14 years or life, but enforcement remains crippled by a justice system that routinely elevates the influential above the law. Cases are delayed, dismissed, or diluted, leaving survivors without justice.

The weakness of these laws lies in their reactionary nature. Acid attacks are preventable crimes, often preceded by threats, harassment, or rejected proposals. Yet the state has failed to establish mechanisms to monitor warning signs, regulate acid sales, or provide systemic victim support.

The Supreme Court’s recent ruling on June 8, declaring acid attacks “more heinous than homicide,” was a rare moment of moral clarity. Justice Muhammad Hashim Khan Kakar’s words cut to the heart of the matter: “Unlike death, which consumes its victim only once, the victim of an acid assault is relegated to a living death.” Survivors endure not only disfigurement but also the daily degradation of identity, self‑worth, and dignity.

The ruling urged governments to establish a National Acid Survivors’ Rehabilitation Fund, offering reconstructive surgeries, trauma counseling, and psychiatric care. This recognition of the lifelong suffering endured by survivors is crucial. Acid violence is not merely an assault on the body; it extinguishes the soul, leaving victims trapped in a permanent state of social and psychological exile.

Despite the enormity of the crime, Pakistan’s response remains marred by indifference. The most recent figures indicate that Pakistan records an estimated 80 acid attacks annually, though experts caution this number is likely underreported due to stigma, weak reporting systems, and gaps in official tracking. Between 1994 and 2018, there were 9,340 victims of acid attacks. Yet rehabilitation programs like Nai Zindagi remain underfunded, and survivors are often abandoned to navigate their trauma alone. The Acid Survivors Foundation (ASF) reported about 200 attacks annually, with a rise compared to previous years. The persistence of cases in 2024–2026, despite strict laws, underscores systemic failures in enforcement, victim support, and prevention. South Punjab accounts for over half of all acid-related crimes. Acid is easily accessible in cotton markets, where it is used for cleaning raw cotton.The state’s failure to enforce accountability emboldens perpetrators, while society’s chauvinistic values normalize aggression against women who dare to assert their rights.

The recurring theme is chilling: women are punished for rejecting advances, resisting oppression, or simply existing with autonomy. Acid becomes the instrument through which male ego reasserts patriarchal dominance. Each attack is not just an act of violence but a declaration that women’s bodies and identities are expendable in the service of male pride.

The persistence of acid violence signals a society unwilling to protect its most vulnerable, a state incapable of enforcing its own laws, and a culture complicit in silencing women through mutilation. The Supreme Court’s ruling, though powerful, will remain hollow unless translated into systemic reforms: strict regulation of acid sales, swift trials, victim compensation, and rehabilitation programs that restore dignity and agency. Until then, Pakistan will remain haunted by the faces of its acid‑attack survivors, living testaments to a nation’s failure to confront misogyny and violence.