This week, Pakistan passed the 27th Amendment to its 1973 Constitution. While the impact of this far-reaching overhaul is still being felt, the deepest blow has perhaps come from the resignation of the senior most judges in the Supreme Court of Pakistan. It’s a rare mark of dissent from the upper echelons of the country’s now subsumed judiciary.
Apart from granting the military sweeping powers and giving Field Marshal Asim Munir lifetime legal immunity, the 27th constitutional amendment, adopted this week, saw the creation of a new Federal Constitutional Court (FCC). The body now has singular authority on constitutional interpretation, judicial review, and disputes involving fundamental rights—powers that were once with the Supreme court.
Justices Mansoor Ali Shah and Athar Minallah, resigned within hours of the amendment’s clearance. Justice Shams Mehmood Mirza of the Lahore High Court, followed soon after. Their departures are among the most pointed institutional protests Pakistan has witnessed since the lawyers’ movement of the late 2000s.
In his resignation letter, Justice Shah quoted the parting lines of Pakistani poet Ahmad Faraz from Muhasara, a satirical poem on Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorial regime. Faraz was arrested immediately after the mushaira.
Read the full text below.
Justice Mansoor Ali Shah’s resignation letter
Sir,
The Twenty-Seventh Constitutional Amendment stands as a grave assault on the Constitution of Pakistan. It dismantles the Supreme Court of Pakistan, subjugates the judiciary to executive control, and strikes at the very heart of our constitutional democracy – making justice more distant, more fragile, and more vulnerable to power. By fracturing the unity of the nation’s apex court, it has crippled judicial independence and integrity, pushing the country back by decades.
As history bears witness, such a disfigurement of the constitutional order is unsustainable and will, in time, be reversed – but not before leaving deep institutional scars. a At this critical juncture, only two courses are open to me as a Judge of this Court: either to remain within an arrangement that undermines the very foundation of the institution one has sworn to protect, or to step aside in protest against its subjugation. Staying on would not only amount to silent acquiescence in constitutional wrong, but would also mean continuing to sit in a court whose constitutional voice has been muted. Unlike the Twenty-Sixth Amendment – when the Supreme Court of Pakistan still retained the jurisdiction to examine and answer the constitutional questions – the present amendment has stripped this Court of that fundamental and critical jurisdiction and authority. Serving in such a truncated and diminished court, I cannot protect the Constitution, nor can I even judicially examine the amendment that has disfigured it.
I am unable to uphold my oath sitting inside a court that has been deprived of its constitutional role; resignation therefore becomes the only honest and effective expression of honouring my oath. Continuing in such a version of the Supreme Court of Pakistan, would only suggest that I bartered my oath for titles, salaries, or privileges. Accordingly, for the reasons set out hereunder, and in terms of Article 206(1) of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, I hereby resign from the office of Judge of the Supreme Court of Pakistan, with immediate effect.
1. A Manufactured Court
The Twenty-Seventh Constitutional Amendment was enacted by a government – and endorsed by the current leadership of the Supreme Court – while their own legitimacy remained under serious constitutional challenge. At a moment when the dignity and independence of the Court demanded principled resistance, the incumbent Chief Justice offered none. Instead of defending the institution he was entrusted to lead, he assented to the amendment and negotiated only the preservation of his own position and title, even as the Court’s constitutional stature was being dismantled.
When the head of the judiciary chooses personal continuity over institutional integrity – especially while his own legitimacy is under judicial scrutiny – the result is not leadership, but abdication. Until those legitimacy questions were transparently and conclusively resolved, neither the government nor the present judicial leadership had any moral or constitutional authority to recast the judicial architecture of the State. Yet they proceeded to do exactly that, disfiguring the structure of justice and striking at the heart of Pakistan’s constitutional balance.
Since independence, Pakistan has lived under a single apex court – from the Federal Court of 1948 to the Supreme Court established by the 1956 Constitution – rooted in the common-law tradition and entrusted as the final guardian of the Constitution. The Twenty-Seventh Amendment ruptures that settled design. It divides the Supreme Court of Pakistan and creates a new Federal Constitutional Court above it – an arrangement entirely alien to the common-law world. This amendment has no constitutional logic, no legal necessity, and no jurisprudential foundation. It was enacted without debate, without consultation, and without seeking the considered input of the judiciary it seeks to remake. Its only discernible purpose is to place the judiciary under executive influence, allowing those in power to curate, control, and manufacture a constitutional court of their own choosing, while leaving behind a Supreme Court of Pakistan reduced to a mere appellate tribunal stripped of constitutional jurisdiction and incapable of addressing state excesses or violations of fundamental rights.
I feel deep sorrow for the judges who will now be made part of the new Federal Constitutional Court and will sit in a court created not by constitutional wisdom, but by political expediency. This is not reform; it is regression of the most dangerous kind. It captures the judiciary, hollows out the Supreme Court of Pakistan, and replaces constitutional adjudication with a court shaped by power, not by principle.
2. The Beginning of the End
The Twenty-Sixth Constitutional Amendment, passed in October 2024, marked the first step in a deliberate campaign to erode judicial independence. Yet at that moment, there remained a sliver of hope – that the Supreme Court of Pakistan would, as a Full Court, rise to examine the amendment and reclaim its constitutional role. I chose to stay then, trusting that institutional reason and constitutional morality would prevail. The hope that once sustained many within the institution, has now been extinguished. The light of judicial independence has not faded by accident – it has been dimmed by design.
3. My Constitutional Calling
When I took oath as a Judge of the Lahore High Court in 2009, I joined a constitutional court. My devotion to constitutionalism and my faith in the transformative power of the Constitution have guided every day of my judicial life. Over these years, I have sought to give life to the Constitution, to strengthen democracy, to expand rights, and to uphold the rule of law.
Today, I am asked to serve in a court stripped of its constitutional jurisdiction – a court that no longer guards the fundamental rights of the people of Pakistan. That is not the court I joined, nor the judicial life I chose.
4. Parting Reflections
I leave behind my judgments for the students of law to read, reflect upon, and, I hope, to improve. Whatever I wrote, I wrote with conviction, with passion, and with heart – a labour of love dedicated to the Constitution and to the people of Pakistan. A judge’s true legacy lies not just in the number of cases decided, but in whether the law was made a little fairer, kinder, and closer to the people it serves. If, in some measure, my work has helped in that direction, I leave content – for the nobility of law, like life, lies not in power but in compassion and courage. Nations that prosper are those that place the rule of law at the heart of their governance and preserve judicial independence as a sacred trust. Where justice is shackled, nations do not merely falter – they lose their moral compass. History bears witness: when courts fall silent, societies descend into darkness.
5. Gratitude and Faith
To the judges of the district judiciary, I owe my deepest respect and gratitude. You are the backbone of our justice system- the face of justice to the people of Pakistan. Those who have worked with me, and those who continue to honestly serve in every district and tehsil, remain a source of immense pride.
To the lawyers and law officers who appeared before me, and the Research officers and law clerks who assisted me, I extend sincere appreciation. Your advocacy and diligence enriched my understanding of the law. To the young lawyers who now stand at the threshold of their journeys- remember that the law is a calling of conscience. Your education and privilege will go to waste if, when the time comes, you do not stand with the Constitution.
To my dedicated staff at the Supreme Court and earlier at the Lahore High Court, especially my secretaries and qasids, I offer my deepest thanks. You created the quiet, disciplined, and insulated space in which I could think, write, and work with independence and courage. I also thank my home staff for having served me all these years with utmost loyalty and honesty. To my colleagues on the Bench, and to everyone with whom I have had the privilege to work, I am deeply grateful for the respect, kindness, and cooperation I have received. If, in the course of our work, I have caused hurt or discomfort to anyone, I offer my sincere apologies and part with nothing but goodwill and regard.
To my close friends – those from my school days who have walked beside me for a lifetime, with one regrettable exception, and the few steadfast companions I found later whose friendship I deeply cherish – I extend my heartfelt gratitude. Their unwavering loyalty and quiet strength have been a steadying force throughout this journey. To my family, whose support and faith have been my anchor, I owe everything. Тo my parents – especially my mother – whose prayers, and quiet strength have shaped my every decision; to my wife, whose steadfastness, resilience, and moral clarity have been the voice of my conscience; and to my children, who have shared in every joy and trial of this journey.
And to my younger son – a special soul who has taught me that Allah is the greatest of planners and that peace lies in surrender to His will – I owe a lesson far greater than any learned in courts or books. I therefore resign as the senior-most Judge of the Supreme Court of Pakistan, in full awareness of the reasons that compel it and in loyalty to the Constitution that has guided every step of my judicial life. I do so with pride in having served this institution with honour and integrity, and with peace in knowing that I leave it with a clear conscience and no regrets.
In parting, I find solace in the words of Ahmad Faraz, which carry the conviction that sustains me still:
mirā qalam to amānat hai mere logoñ kī
mirā qalam to adālat mire zamīr kī hai
isī liye to jo likkhā tapāk-e-jāñ se likhā
jabhī to loch kamāñ kā zabān tiir kī hai
maiñ kaT girūñ ki salāmat rahūñ yaqīñ hai mujhe
ki ye hisār-e-sitam koī to girāegā
tamām umr kī īzā-nasībiyoñ kī qasam
mire qalam kā safar rāegāñ
(My pen is the pious gift of my people.
My pen is the court of my conscience.
That is why what I have written is written with a fevered soul.
That is why it has the tension of the bow and the tongue of an arrow.
Whether I am felled or remain alive I trust
that someone will break this siege of oppression.
In the name of those tortured down the ages
the journey of my pen will not be in vain.)
With respect,
Syed Mansoor Ali Shah
Mansoor Ali Shah is a former judge at the Supreme Court of Pakistan.