“Ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have”—James Baldwin
One of the greatest tragedies of human civilisation is that intellectual advancement has not necessarily been accompanied by moral evolution. We have succeeded in developing sophisticated systems of governance, elaborate legal frameworks and institutions ostensibly dedicated to protecting human dignity. Yet the minds entrusted with operating these systems frequently remain prisoners of prejudices inherited from generations past. Nowhere is this contradiction more disturbing than when those responsible for dispensing justice exhibit the very mentality against which the law is supposed to provide protection.
A recent article by barrister Rida Hosain, published in Dawn on October 2, 2026, raises serious concerns about the Federal Constitutional Court's interpretation of workplace harassment legislation. By restricting the relevant statutory protection to harassment of a sexual nature and emphasising the requirement of independent evidence, the judgment has generated legitimate apprehensions about the efficacy of legal safeguards for women.
The implications vary according to the applicable legislation, particularly following amendments to the federal law in 2022. Nevertheless, beyond the intricacies of statutory interpretation lies a far more unsettling question: what kind of social conditioning influences our understanding of harassment, human dignity and the exercise of authority?
Judicial pronouncements do not emerge in isolation. Judges, like everyone else, are products of the society in which they are raised. Their education may equip them with knowledge of jurisprudence, but it does not automatically liberate them from deeply ingrained assumptions about gender, morality and social hierarchy. Their professional achievements cannot, by themselves, establish that they possess the sensitivity necessary to appreciate the suffering of those who approach them seeking justice. To understand the origins of such attitudes, we must turn our attention towards the institution that precedes every school, university, workplace and courtroom: the family.
In many households, the seeds of discrimination are sown almost imperceptibly. The arrival of a son is celebrated as a blessing, while a daughter's birth may invite expressions of sympathy or disappointment. As children grow, the distinctions become increasingly pronounced. Sons are granted privileges, liberties and indulgences that daughters are expected neither to demand nor question. A boy's aggression may be dismissed as a manifestation of masculinity, while a girl's assertiveness is frequently mistaken for insolence.
Paradoxically, mothers sometimes become the most enthusiastic custodians of these inequalities. Having themselves experienced discrimination, they may nevertheless perpetuate the same prejudices through the preferential treatment of their sons. The boy's comfort takes precedence, his mistakes are excused, and his sisters are expected to accommodate his wishes. What appears to be maternal affection may inadvertently cultivate an exaggerated sense of entitlement.
This is not to absolve fathers of responsibility. A son who observes his father humiliating his mother, dismissing her opinions or treating her as inferior is receiving lessons that no formal education can easily erase. Children learn as much from the conduct they witness as from the instructions they receive. Thus, the household that should nurture mutual respect can become the first training ground for inequality. A boy brought up to regard women as subordinate may eventually consider his wife's independence an act of defiance, his female colleague's professional success a challenge to his superiority, and a woman's refusal to accommodate his demands an affront to his authority.
Not every child subjected to such conditioning will develop these tendencies. Human beings possess the capacity to question inherited beliefs and exercise independent moral judgment. Nevertheless, we cannot overlook the influence of an upbringing that repeatedly presents male privilege as a natural entitlement. An even more disturbing consequence of this mentality is the commodification of women. Instead of recognising them as independent human beings possessing intellect, ambition, emotions and personal autonomy, society frequently assesses their worth in terms of their physical appearance, domestic usefulness, sexual desirability or willingness to submit to established expectations.
Such objectification is not confined to the uneducated or economically disadvantaged. It flourishes equally within affluent households, prestigious professional circles and institutions led by individuals possessing impressive academic qualifications. A person may command considerable professional respect while remaining incapable of extending the same respect to a woman who occupies a subordinate position. It is within this environment that workplace harassment acquires its most insidious dimensions.
We cannot reasonably expect equality in our courts while cultivating inequality in our homes, nor can we expect justice from institutions that fail to question the prejudices embedded within them.
Harassment is not invariably motivated by sexual desire. Frequently, it represents an assertion of power, an attempt to establish dominance or a calculated exercise in humiliation. It may involve offensive remarks, intimidation, professional sabotage, discriminatory treatment, character assassination or the deliberate creation of an atmosphere in which an individual feels vulnerable and powerless.
Women are particularly susceptible to harassment rooted in patriarchal attitudes, although men, too, can become victims of abusive professional hierarchies. The underlying problem is the conviction that authority confers the right to compromise another person's dignity. Consider a female employee whose competence threatens an insecure superior. Her professional achievements may be belittled, her opinions ridiculed and her career deliberately obstructed. Her tormentor may never make an explicitly sexual advance, yet the psychological and professional damage inflicted upon her can be devastating. Should such conduct be regarded as less reprehensible merely because it lacks a sexual element? This is precisely why an understanding of harassment cannot be divorced from the dynamics of power, discrimination and human behaviour.
The problem becomes particularly alarming when a complainant encounters similar prejudices within the institutions established to protect her. A judicial forum that approaches allegations through preconceived notions of how victims ought to behave, react or substantiate their experiences risks compounding the original injury.
Admittedly, the rights of an accused person must be protected, and allegations cannot automatically be treated as established facts. The requirement of credible evidence remains indispensable to the administration of justice. However, there is a fundamental difference between evaluating evidence impartially and imposing expectations that disregard the circumstances in which harassment ordinarily occurs.
Misconduct frequently takes place behind closed doors, away from independent witnesses. Fear of retaliation, social stigma and economic dependence may discourage immediate reporting. A complainant's testimony must therefore be assessed according to its credibility and the surrounding circumstances, rather than dismissed merely because independent corroboration is unavailable. Equally important is the responsibility of judges to distinguish their personal moral convictions from the legal questions requiring determination. A woman's clothing, lifestyle, marital status or perceived conformity with conventional expectations cannot become a substitute for an objective examination of the facts and applicable law.
The presence of prejudice does not necessarily imply deliberate malice. Indeed, unconscious prejudices may be more difficult to confront because those harbouring them frequently consider their assumptions entirely reasonable. This makes intellectual humility, self-examination and an appreciation of constitutional values indispensable judicial qualities.
We must also confront an uncomfortable distinction between education and civilisation. Academic qualifications establish that an individual has acquired knowledge; they offer no conclusive evidence of integrity, empathy or moral maturity. A society that confuses professional distinction with excellence of character risks entrusting immense authority to individuals who have never critically examined their own prejudices.
Legislative reforms, institutional safeguards and judicial accountability are undoubtedly necessary. Yet their effectiveness will remain limited unless we simultaneously address the attitudes that sustain discrimination. Parents must teach their children that respect is neither a concession nor a favour extended to women. It is an obligation owed to every human being. Educational institutions must cultivate character alongside competence, while workplaces must ensure that authority is exercised with responsibility rather than impunity.
Above all, parents must recognise that raising a successful son is not the same as raising a decent human being. A son's accomplishments mean little if he grows into a man who considers women commodities, subordinates or instruments for satisfying his ego. The ultimate test of civilisation lies not in the grandeur of its institutions or the sophistication of its laws, but in the values that govern human relationships. We cannot reasonably expect equality in our courts while cultivating inequality in our homes, nor can we expect justice from institutions that fail to question the prejudices embedded within them. For when prejudice sits in judgment, it is not merely the complainant who stands condemned. It is the conscience of an entire society that finds itself on trial.