In Pakistan, constitutional amendments have always been moments of controversy and consequence. From the sweeping 18th Amendment that devolved power to the provinces, to the 25th Amendment that merged the tribal areas into Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, each change has carried profound political weight. That is why recent whispers of a so-called 27th Amendment stirred unease and debate long before any official document or draft surfaced.
The story began with a resolution passed by the Islamabad High Court Bar Association (IHCBA) earlier this year. The association called for reforms in the judicial system, particularly broader rotation of judges and changes to the mechanisms of appointment. Almost immediately, speculation spread across social media that the government was preparing to introduce a constitutional amendment to bring these reforms. From there on, the rumour gathered layers. Some claimed the amendment would touch upon provincial autonomy, others suggested it could even redraw the map by creating new provinces.
The government denied the reports at every turn. Information Minister Attaullah Tarar was among the first to brush them off, calling the talk ‘mere speculation’ and stressing that no draft or proposal had been prepared. Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi described it as social media gossip, while President Asif Ali Zardari’s office remained silent on the matter. Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari, chairman of the Pakistan Peoples Party, dismissed the conversation as baseless, saying no one had approached him with such an idea.
But the denials did little to quieten the political storm. The Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) seized the issue, presenting it as proof that the government was hatching a secret plan to undermine democratic structures. The PTI leader and former National Assembly Speaker Asad Qaiser declared that PTI would resist any such move ‘using all means,’ including approaching the courts, bar associations, and even foreign embassies. For a party already locked in confrontation with the government and judiciary, the rumour offered a rallying cry to its supporters.
At the centre of the speculation lay the judiciary. Calls for reform have long echoed in Pakistan, where the courts are accused by critics of politicisation and selective justice. Supporters of change argue that only structural reform, possibly through a constitutional amendment, can restore public confidence. Yet critics fear that government-led changes risk curbing judicial independence rather than strengthening it. This tension meant that even a rumour of constitutional tinkering sparked alarm.
Another layer of anxiety surrounded provincial autonomy. Since the passage of the 18th Amendment in 2010, provinces enjoy wide powers over health, education, and natural resources. Any hint of rolling back those powers is seen as an assault on federalism. Murmurs that the 27th Amendment could tamper this delicate balance, or even create new provinces, carried explosive potential in a country where ethnic and regional identities run deep.
Despite the uproar, the legislative reality tells a different story. Passing a constitutional amendment in Pakistan requires a two-thirds majority in both the National Assembly and the Senate. With no single party commanding such numbers in the current fractured political landscape, the likelihood of an amendment being rushed through is virtually nil. Moreover, no draft has been introduced in parliament, nor has any committee been tasked with examining such a move. What remains is speculation, amplified by mistrust and political opportunism.
So why did the rumour gain such traction? Part of the answer lies in Pakistan’s enduring trust deficit. Decades of backroom deals, sudden decrees, and institutional power plays have conditioned the public to suspect hidden motives. In such an environment, conspiracy theories thrive. The sensitivity of judicial politics added fuel to the fire, as did the fragility of Pakistan’s federal structure. For the opposition, the controversy served as a useful tool to mobilise supporters and portray itself as the defender of democracy and provincial rights. And in the age of social media, speculation quickly hardens into perceived fact.
Adding to the confusion was a historical footnote. In 2017, a bill known as the Constitution (27th Amendment) Act was introduced, linked to electoral reforms. It was never passed, but its existence lingers in public memory, leading some to assume that a 27th Amendment has always been waiting in the wings.
In the end, the so-called amendment reveals more about Pakistan’s political climate than about constitutional law. It shows how easily rumours can dominate the national conversation in a country where institutions inspire little trust. It highlights the deep anxieties around judicial independence and provincial autonomy. And it exposes how opposition parties, starved of political space, are quick to seize on speculation as a weapon against the government.
The government, for its part, has insisted there is no such amendment in the works. Yet the fact that the rumour refused to die points to a broader truth: Pakistan’s political discourse is shaped as much by suspicion as by fact. Whether or not a 27th ever materialises, the debate has reminded the country that its constitution remains a contested battlefield, where every whisper carries the weight of history
The Phantom Amendment
In Pakistan, constitutional amendments have always been moments of controversy and consequence. From the sweeping 18th Amendment that devolved power to the provinces, to the 25th Amendment that merged the tribal areas into Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, each change has carried profound political weight. That is why recent whispers of a so-called 27th Amendment stirred unease and debate long before any official document or draft surfaced.
The story began with a resolution passed by the Islamabad High Court Bar Association (IHCBA) earlier this year. The association called for reforms in the judicial system, particularly broader rotation of judges and changes to the mechanisms of appointment. Almost immediately, speculation spread across social media that the government was preparing to introduce a constitutional amendment to bring these reforms. From there on, the rumour gathered layers. Some claimed the amendment would touch upon provincial autonomy, others suggested it could even redraw the map by creating new provinces.
The government denied the reports at every turn. Information Minister Attaullah Tarar was among the first to brush them off, calling the talk ‘mere speculation’ and stressing that no draft or proposal had been prepared. Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi described it as social media gossip, while President Asif Ali Zardari’s office remained silent on the matter. Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari, chairman of the Pakistan Peoples Party, dismissed the conversation as baseless, saying no one had approached him with such an idea.
But the denials did little to quieten the political storm. The Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) seized the issue, presenting it as proof that the government was hatching a secret plan to undermine democratic structures. The PTI leader and former National Assembly Speaker Asad Qaiser declared that PTI would resist any such move ‘using all means,’ including approaching the courts, bar associations, and even foreign embassies. For a party already locked in confrontation with the government and judiciary, the rumour offered a rallying cry to its supporters.
At the centre of the speculation lay the judiciary. Calls for reform have long echoed in Pakistan, where the courts are accused by critics of politicisation and selective justice. Supporters of change argue that only structural reform, possibly through a constitutional amendment, can restore public confidence. Yet critics fear that government-led changes risk curbing judicial independence rather than strengthening it. This tension meant that even a rumour of constitutional tinkering sparked alarm.
Another layer of anxiety surrounded provincial autonomy. Since the passage of the 18th Amendment in 2010, provinces enjoy wide powers over health, education, and natural resources. Any hint of rolling back those powers is seen as an assault on federalism. Murmurs that the 27th Amendment could tamper this delicate balance, or even create new provinces, carried explosive potential in a country where ethnic and regional identities run deep.
Despite the uproar, the legislative reality tells a different story. Passing a constitutional amendment in Pakistan requires a two-thirds majority in both the National Assembly and the Senate. With no single party commanding such numbers in the current fractured political landscape, the likelihood of an amendment being rushed through is virtually nil. Moreover, no draft has been introduced in parliament, nor has any committee been tasked with examining such a move. What remains is speculation, amplified by mistrust and political opportunism.
So why did the rumour gain such traction? Part of the answer lies in Pakistan’s enduring trust deficit. Decades of backroom deals, sudden decrees, and institutional power plays have conditioned the public to suspect hidden motives. In such an environment, conspiracy theories thrive. The sensitivity of judicial politics added fuel to the fire, as did the fragility of Pakistan’s federal structure. For the opposition, the controversy served as a useful tool to mobilise supporters and portray itself as the defender of democracy and provincial rights. And in the age of social media, speculation quickly hardens into perceived fact.
Adding to the confusion was a historical footnote. In 2017, a bill known as the Constitution (27th Amendment) Act was introduced, linked to electoral reforms. It was never passed, but its existence lingers in public memory, leading some to assume that a 27th Amendment has always been waiting in the wings.
In the end, the so-called amendment reveals more about Pakistan’s political climate than about constitutional law. It shows how easily rumours can dominate the national conversation in a country where institutions inspire little trust. It highlights the deep anxieties around judicial independence and provincial autonomy. And it exposes how opposition parties, starved of political space, are quick to seize on speculation as a weapon against the government.
The government, for its part, has insisted there is no such amendment in the works. Yet the fact that the rumour refused to die points to a broader truth: Pakistan’s political discourse is shaped as much by suspicion as by fact. Whether or not a 27th ever materialises, the debate has reminded the country that its constitution remains a contested battlefield, where every whisper carries the weight of history
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