When Asking Questions Becomes a Crime: A Troubling Signal from Punjab Information Commission
LAHORE — The Right to Information (RTI) law was designed as a bridge — a way for ordinary citizens to cross into the corridors of power and ask a simple question: What are you doing with public resources?
But a recent decision by the Punjab Information Commission (PIC) raises a more unsettling question: What happens when asking too many questions is treated as wrongdoing?
In a detailed ruling issued on March 24, 2026, the commission dismissed 35 complaints filed by citizen Attique-ur-Rehman against various offices of the Irrigation Department. The commission went further, describing his actions as an “abuse of law” and warning against the misuse of the Punjab Transparency and Right to Information Act 2013.
At first glance, the decision appears methodical. The commission noted that the applicant had filed identical RTI requests across multiple offices, using a standard proforma with minimal changes. It also pointed out that some applications were vague, broadly seeking records about fuel and maintenance costs without identifying specific projects or vehicles. In one case, the application was reportedly left blank.
To the commission, this pattern was enough to conclude that the requests were not genuine attempts to seek information, but rather repetitive and vexatious filings — even suggesting a “mala fide intent” to pressure or intimidate the department.
Yet beneath the legal reasoning lies a deeper concern — one that touches the very spirit of transparency laws.
RTI laws, including those under Article 19-A of Pakistan’s Constitution, are built on the principle that access to information is a right, not a privilege. Citizens are not required to justify why they seek information, nor are they expected to frame their questions with legal precision. The law was meant to empower, not intimidate.
By placing heavy emphasis on the form and pattern of requests — rather than the public interest behind them — the commission risks setting a precedent that could discourage citizens from engaging with public institutions altogether.
Yes, the commission is correct that requests should meet basic legal requirements. Section 10(3) does require applicants to specify the information they seek. And yes, administrative systems cannot function efficiently if overwhelmed by poorly drafted or repetitive applications.
But the response to such challenges matters.
Instead of rejecting the complaints outright and branding them as abusive, the commission could have taken a more citizen-friendly approach — guiding the applicant to refine his requests, or directing the department to provide partial or clarified information. After all, RTI regimes around the world emphasise facilitation over rejection.
More troubling is the broader message this decision sends.
When a citizen files multiple requests across a department, it could signal persistence — even suspicion of systemic issues. Large-scale or repeated requests are not inherently abusive; in many cases, they are the very tools through which patterns of inefficiency or misuse are uncovered.
By interpreting volume and similarity as evidence of bad faith, the commission risks narrowing the space for legitimate scrutiny.
The reliance on foreign judicial precedents — including Indian rulings cautioning against misuse of RTI — adds another layer to the debate. While such references provide context, Pakistan’s own democratic journey with transparency is still evolving. Importing restrictive interpretations without balancing them against local realities may tilt the scales away from openness.
Ultimately, the question is not whether the commission followed the letter of the law. It likely did.
The question is whether it upheld the spirit of it.
Transparency laws are not meant to be comfortable for public bodies. They are meant to be inconvenient, persistent, and sometimes even demanding. That is their purpose.
If citizens begin to fear that repeated or imperfect requests might be labelled as “abuse,” the chilling effect could be profound. Fewer questions will be asked. Fewer records will be sought. And the bridge that RTI laws were meant to build may slowly begin to crumble.
In a country where access to information is constitutionally guaranteed, the real danger is not that citizens ask too many questions.
It is that, eventually, they may stop asking altogether.
