EACH year, the International Day for Tolerance arrives as a quiet prompt to reflect on what it means to live together despite our differences. Yet in Pakistan, the word ‘tolerance’ feels worn thin by misuse. It has come to signify little more than the ability to endure one another, when what our time demands is something much deeper: an active embrace of pluralism, of coexistence grounded in equality and respect.

The idea of tolerance is not foreign to our culture. Our land has long been home to faiths, languages, and traditions that existed side by side. The Indus Valley’s ancient diversity, the spiritual egalitarianism of Sufism, and the ethos of shared spaces across centuries all testify that coexistence is part of our civilisational inheritance. From the temples of Sindh to the gurdwaras of Punjab, from churches that stand beside mosques in old neighbourhoods to the shared reverence for shrines that transcend sectarian lines, Pakistan’s history offers countless reminders of an inclusive moral imagination.

Yet, in recent decades, that imagination has contracted. The social and political space once available for difference has shrunk under the weight of intolerance, impunity, and fear. What we have witnessed, from the desecration of places of worship to the targeting of individuals for their beliefs, marks not just a human rights crisis but a spiritual one. The question is not whether we can tolerate difference, but whether we can still see the humanity in those who differ from us.

At the National Commission for Human Rights, we have repeatedly drawn attention to the steady erosion of religious freedom in Pakistan. In the past few years, there have been multiple attacks on minority communities, each one shaking the fragile promise of equality enshrined in our Constitution. Such tragedies reflect a larger malaise: one in which bigotry goes unchecked, social media amplifies hate, and justice moves too slowly to restore trust.

The idea of tolerance is not foreign to our culture.

Tolerance, in its truest sense, is not about mere silence. It is not about looking away from injustice in the name of peace. It is about recognising the inherent dignity of every human being, regardless of belief, and ensuring that this recognition is reflected in the laws, policies, and practices of the state. It means protecting the rights of those with whom we disagree, not because we share their faith, but because we share their humanity.

Our challenge, then, is to transform tolerance from a defensive posture into an affirmative principle of governance and citizenship. This transformation requires three shifts.

Firstly, we must address the climate of impunity that enables any form of persecution. Every act of violence against a minority faith must be met with credible investigation and swift prosecution. The selective enforcement of law corrodes public confidence and emboldens hate. When perpetrators of religiously motivated violence walk free, intolerance becomes the norm rather than the exception.

Secondly, education must play a restorative role. The narratives we teach our children shape how they perceive those around them. School curricula must celebrate the plurality of Pakistan’s history rather than erase it. Students should learn about the contributions of Christian teachers, Hindu businessmen, Sikh scholars, minority scientists and poets who helped build this country. Tolerance begins with knowledge: of the other, and of oneself.

Finally, we must rebuild the social and civic spaces where communities can meet not as adversaries but as neighbours. Local administrations, religious leaders, and community elders all have a part to play in nurturing trust. Dialogue cannot be imposed from above; it must be practised in daily life. In classrooms, in marketplaces, in village councils, and in the corridors of policymaking alike.

Pakistan’s constitutional promise is unambiguous. Article 20 guarantees every citizen “the right to profess, practise and propagate his religion”. However, the persistence of discriminatory laws, misuse of blasphemy provisions, and administrative inertia has often meant that these guarantees remain paper promises.

The test of democracy lies not in how it protects the majority but in how it safeguards minorities. The work of tolerance begins in policy but must be completed in the human heart. Laws may protect

difference, but only empathy can sustain it. Hence, the International Day for Tolerance is not an occasion for self-congratulation. It is a reminder of the work left undone.

The writer is the chairperson of the National Commission for Human Rights.

Published in Dawn, November 16th, 2025