In Islamabad this May, lawmakers quietly signed a new Child Marriage Restraint Act 2025 banning marriages under 18. This was a modest protection for children, long overdue, and yet conservative firebrands erupted in protest.
Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (F) leader Maulana Fazlur Rehman slammed the law as “contrary to the Quran and Sunnah”, warning it “makes fornication easier while making legitimate marriages difficult”. In other words, the champions of orthodoxy are crying foul that little girls might not be married off before puberty. To hear them talk, Pakistan’s newest attempt to enforce childhood is blasphemy. But that claim is as cynical as it is cruel.
Consider the shocking hypocrisy. The very party now raising religious banners has been dead silent on far graver injustices. It did not rally when women were dragged into parks and raped, or when acid splashed across innocent faces, or when girls and young mothers were slaughtered in the name of “honor.” Today, human rights experts estimate roughly 1,000 Pakistani women a year are killed by relatives to protect family “honor”, yet our self-styled moral guardians have no public outrage for that carnage. They never threatened to march with torches when widows petitioned courts for their share of inheritance or when wives begged imams for divorces legally owed to them.
But now, suddenly, they claim to stand up for children, children who aren’t even old enough to vote or drive, demanding they be allowed to wed. Let that sink in.
The cruelty of forcing children into marriage is far from hypothetical. This is a real epidemic among the most vulnerable. Nearly one in five Pakistani girls is married before 18. The consequences are devastating: girls who marry early drop out of school, suffer life-threatening pregnancy complications and domestic abuse, and plunge their families deeper into poverty. No society that values its future can shrug this off. The Islamabad law simply extends to the capital the minimum 18-year age already achieved by provinces like Sindh (since 2013). In fact, Pakistan’s commitments under international treaties, from the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child to the Sustainable Development Goals, explicitly aim to end child marriage by 2030. This is about protecting children’s rights and health, not erasing religion.
Every child who stays in school rather than strapped to a farm cart, every young girl who grows up knowing she is not property, that is the real victory for faith and country
So why the fierce backlash?
Opponents claim Islam mandates marriage at puberty. This is a crude misreading.
The Quran and Sunnah set no arbitrary age; they set principles of justice and compassion. The Quran instructs guardians to wait until an orphan reaches a “marriageable age” and proves sound judgment before handing over her estate (Surah An-Nisa (4:6)). In other words, maturity and understanding are the true tests, not an exact birthday on the calendar. Likewise, the Prophet (peace be upon him) forbade marrying a girl without her consent. “A virgin should not be given in marriage until her permission is sought” (Narrated by al-Bukhari, 6968; Muslim, 1419), clearly emphasising a person’s free will.
If anything, Islamic law teaches us to protect the weak: preserving life and intellect is a core objective of Sharia. Forcing a child into marriage runs directly counter to that.
Islamic jurists have always understood that marriage requires wisdom and readiness. Many classical scholars permitted minor marriage only in rare cases, stressing that consummation wait until full maturity. Others noted that guardianship in Islam is meant to serve a child’s best interests, not the adult’s convenience. Today, every major Muslim-majority country has raised the marriage age to 18 or close, recognising modern realities.
It is not un-Islamic to protect children; it is un-Islamic to place their welfare second.
And let us not be fooled: this fight is political posturing.
The Council of Islamic Ideology’s blanket objection, branding the law itself as “anti-Islamic,” flies in the face of reason. In 2016, when politicians first tried to raise the age, the CII leadership denounced it as “blasphemous” and activists demanded the council chief’s resignation. Yet Sindh now enforces the 18‑year rule without civilisational collapse. Today, a Shariat Court petition filed by a citizen, Shahzada Adnan, demands this new law be struck down as “repugnant to Sharia”, resonating the same failed narrative.
But consider: can a law be unconstitutional and un-Islamic in a state that professes both? Pakistan's Constitution claims to be governed both by democratic constitutional principles and by the tenets of Islam (through Article 277). So, when someone says a law is unconstitutional and un-Islamic, they are essentially saying it violates both the modern legal framework and the religious one. If a law is designed to protect children, uphold human dignity, and prevent harm and exploitation, which are Islamic principles, then how can it be against both the Constitution and Islam?
Either our faith truly honors justice, in which case there’s nothing to repeal, or these objections are merely an excuse to placate narrow interests.
In truth, raising the marriage age accords with the spirit of Islam, which is mercy and protection. This law treats childhood as sacred, not as a bargaining chip. It is grotesque that those preaching Islam to the public would pawn off girls to grown men, yet say nothing when those women cry for protection.
Pakistan stands at a crossroads.
Will we defend the innocent voices of our girls and boys, or side with leaders who only defend them when political winds change? Every child who stays in school rather than strapped to a farm cart, every young girl who grows up knowing she is not property, that is the real victory for faith and country.
Our constitution and conscience demand we protect children’s welfare (after all, they cannot save themselves), and Islam at its best demands we care for the weak. Defying this law is not nobility, it is tyranny dressed in clerical robes. The true guardians of Islam would fight acid violence, rape, and injustice with the same fervor they now show for child marriage.
Let us speak plainly: childhood is not a crime to be outlawed.
If claiming faith means defending child exploitation, then it is our religion that is betrayed.
Let the children vote with ballots, if they must vote at all; let them drive cars when they are grown. Above all, let them be children first. Pakistan’s future depends on it, not on hollow slogans uttered by those who never lifted a finger for actual victims. Only a cynic would call protecting childhood ‘un-Islamic’; only a coward would sacrifice children for politics.
Faith demands we do the hard thing: protect the powerless. Our leaders should be ashamed of anything less.
Because God does not ask how loudly we protested—He asks who we protected.
And no banner of piety can hide the sin of betrayal.