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After leaving home in a taxi, a lecturer at a public university in Balochistan realised that her mobile internet was not working, leaving her unable to use digital maps to navigate her way to her friend's house 40 minutes away. In a province already marked by political instability and insecurity, the lack of connectivity quickly turned into a source of fear. Sitting in a car that was not her own, unable to reach anyone or confirm her route, she said the only thought running through her mind was, “Am I safe?”
The people of Pakistan are all too familiar with the disruptive reality of internet shutdowns, having endured both prolonged blackouts, some extending beyond five years, and shorter suspensions lasting from a few hours to several days, each leaving tangible consequences on personal and professional life. Despite the well-documented consequences of communication blackouts, the provincial government of Balochistan has, on 8 August, ordered a mobile internet shutdown, citing vague “security reasons”.
As Pakistan’s largest province by area, Balochistan has long faced chronic underdevelopment, even while serving as a hub of the country’s natural mineral resources. In a province already isolated by geography and decades of state neglect, this latest digital blackout has severed connectivity for over 14 million people, in a region where access is already sporadic due to inadequate infrastructure and limited network coverage. Some reports suggest that parts of the regions have not had connectivity for almost a decade.
According to one statistic, there are almost 8.5 million cellular users in Balochistan, enabling 61% of the population to use mobile data as their primary means of accessing the internet. For many, a mobile phone is not just a communication device, but the only gateway to online spaces, given the limited availability and high cost of fibre network connections. This dependence means mobile internet is essential not only for staying connected with family and friends but also for accessing news, entertainment, information, and opportunities for work and education. The COVID-19 lockdowns served as a stark reminder of this reality. What was once seen as a luxury is now an undeniable necessity.
Living under digital darkness
Evidence from past incidents shows that internet shutdowns not only disrupt daily life, but also severely hinder the ability of journalists to report. During the long-term internet blackout in Pakistan’s former Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), for instance, reporters were forced to travel long distances each day to reach nearby towns with connectivity, just to file their stories. This caused significant inconvenience, and also delayed the reporting of critical developments, including breaking news, diminishing the flow of timely and accurate information from and for the region.
Akbar Notezai, a journalist based in Quetta, Balochistan, says the recent mobile network shutdown has hit journalists across the province, particularly those working in its interior regions. “If I didn’t have a DSL connection at home, I would have been disconnected from the world too,” he explains. According to him, reporters who rely solely on mobile internet are now gathering at press clubs to file their stories, while others are putting in long extra hours at work just to maintain access to the internet and continue their reporting.
Research also shows that the internet is a critical lifeline for accessing essential healthcare services, with its absence, in some cases, contributing directly to preventable deaths. So cutting connectivity during moments of heightened insecurity can also jeopardise lives, stall urgent medical responses, and deepen existing vulnerabilities. Such actions reveal a dangerous gap in the government’s understanding of the internet as part of public safety infrastructure, ignoring its role in safeguarding not just rights and freedoms, but the well-being and survival of its citizens.
Fatima Khilji, a member of the Women Democratic Front, notes that in Quetta, a member of the provincial assembly typically travels with at least four security vehicles, each carrying four guards. For the Chief Minister of Balochistan, this number rises to 27 vehicles, each similarly staffed with four guards. “Quetta is a small city. If the government can allocate extensive taxpayer-funded resources to protect a single official, why can’t it invest the same resources in ensuring the security of its citizens?”
Fatima shares that many people she has spoken to are deeply concerned about the financial losses caused by the mobile data shutdown. Many small business owners from lower-middle and middle-class backgrounds have paid for prepaid mobile internet packages costing between PKR 1,900-2,400 (approximately USD 7-10) for the month. With the internet now disconnected for the entire period, that money is lost. She says:
“Every time the government takes a step in the name of security, it ends up causing more harm than benefit for ordinary people.”
The recent shutdown came as a surprise to residents, with no prior notice, leaving them unprepared and vulnerable to avoidable financial setbacks.
Independence without freedoms
The timing of the shutdown, just days before Pakistan’s 78th Independence Day on 14 August, highlights how distant the promise of freedom remains for many in Balochistan. For decades, the province’s people have lived within a fractured political reality, caught between the heavy hand of the military and the persistent presence of armed insurgent groups. These opposing forces routinely clash in their bid for control, with civilians bearing the brunt of the fallout. The resulting insecurity and instability permeate every aspect of daily life, creating a lived experience far removed from the ideals of independence.
“Usually, people celebrate Independence Day with a lot of enthusiasm. But this year, they didn’t celebrate at all, out of fear of repercussions from armed groups that won’t even allow anyone to buy or sell flags in the city,” Fatima says. At the same time, she adds, the government continues to suppress basic rights by restricting movement, expression and access to communication. She says that Baloch people are “living a suffocating life.”
A feminist lens reveals that the impact of internet shutdowns is neither gender-neutral nor evenly distributed. For years, Baloch families have been searching for answers about their missing loved ones, a struggle so prolonged that it has reshaped the very fabric of community resistance. As generations of men have been forcibly disappeared by security agencies, it is increasingly women – mothers, sisters, wives, daughters – who stand at the forefront of protests and advocacy, often at significant personal risk. Their demands for truth and accountability are not just battles for justice, but for the basic right to be heard. When internet shutdowns descend on the province, they silence these voices further, erasing digital avenues for organising, documenting abuses and reaching national and international audiences.
For women leading movements to demand the return of missing family members, shutdowns hinder their ability to mobilise supporters, connect with allies and share evidence of rights violation. When connectivity is deliberately cut, it is not just speech that is silenced, it is the political agency of women on the frontlines of resistance that is systematically erased. And this denial of connectivity is yet another way of keeping Baloch people’s calls for justice out of sight.
Information blackout
It is no longer contested that the internet is a critical infrastructure that enables access to other rights and the conditions required for a dignified life. In politically volatile regions, where security incidents are frequent and state institutions are weak, connectivity to a working internet is the only way to keep families in touch, enable professional and economic activity, and provide access to the few remaining credible sources of information when traditional channels are censored, shuttered or compromised. This access becomes especially vital in moments of crisis, when reliable updates can prevent panic and counter misinformation.
Everyone I spoke to mentioned that August is a worrying month for Baloch people, who have witnessed and experienced deadly security incidents during this time in recent years. The lecturer at the public university in Balochistan tells me, “All the big terror attacks have happened in this month in the past few years,” adding, “So people are constantly anxious about their family and friends.” With no mobile internet connection, families are left in a constant state of worry.
The lecturer adds, “It affects our mobility, since as women, we generally rely on Google Maps and the live location sharing feature on our phones for safety. With this month-long internet shutdown, I’m always anxious about leaving the house and whether I’ll make it safely to my destination.” She explains that she now finds herself heavily dependent on others, mostly men in her family, to accompany her to work.
But Maryam Jamali, co-founder of Madat Balochistan, a grassroots community-led organisation working on climate resilience in the province, says that this disconnect makes her constantly concerned for her father’s safety. “My father is in my village right now with a lot of my family because it’s rice season. August is already a scary month. The idea of another flood hitting is terrifying, but knowing that it could hit and infrastructure will be compromised and I will have no way of reaching home...” Further contextualising the geographic limitations of connectivity, she says, “My village is on the border, so thankfully we get the signals from Sindh, but you move one kilometre in and you’re out of range. So many friends and family that live in rural Balochistan are at risk right now.”
Maryam, who lives outside of the province with most of her family still in Balochistan, says that she has been struggling to reach friends and family. “You have no idea what’s happening, and you can’t even ask.”
Engineered disorder
In the age of AI-generated disinformation circulating rapidly through platforms like WhatsApp, Facebook and Twitter/X, cutting off the internet impacts communities’ access to the very tools that allow them to verify facts and challenge propaganda. Instead, it leaves populations more vulnerable to confusion, fear and manipulation. Maryam exclaims, “It’s alright when it’s for a few days, but with the security issues being at an all-time high, and now with monsoons, it feels terrifying.”
When governments invoke “security reasons” to justify such blackouts, they ignore mounting evidence that internet shutdowns have never defused unrest or halted armed conflict anywhere. Rather, they have become a convenient political tool to stifle the rights of already marginalised communities.
Akbar points out that there are many areas in Balochistan that have had no internet access for at least a year, “but that doesn’t mean that no security incident has happened there. What difference did internet shutdown make?”
Akbar argues that the internet has little to do with security and that authorities should not use such justifications to enforce a blackout. The lecturer concurs, highlighting the persistent injustices faced by the people of Balochistan. She observes, “There are no protests in the region about this communication blackout, because people say that at least they are safe.” Among locals, there is a constant negotiation between two sets of rights – the right to life and security, and the right to access information, freedom of expression, and freedom of the press. “Experiencing your fundamental rights changes how you respond when they are violated. People who've had access to these rights will question authorities when they are denied. But for those who have never had meaningful access to rights that are supposed to be guaranteed, the loss of one or two rarely registers,” she explains. As a result, they rarely ever lead to the conversation of accountability. “We don’t have any other option than to just accept what the government decides for us. We’re like cattle to them.”
Fatima highlights the government’s duty to keep citizens informed, noting the real consequences of communication blackouts. "The government has a responsibility to inform citizens of the actions it plans to take, because without this information, people face financial losses in an already precarious economic situation." She stresses that ensuring security should not come at the expense of fundamental rights. “If someone warns me that a thief might come to my street, would I cordon it off for an entire month and go on a hunger strike, or would I take targeted measures, like tightening security, to prevent the theft? The government should prioritise specific security interventions rather than shutting down connectivity.” Highlighting the inequities created by blanket measures, she adds that if authorities have intelligence about a potential security threat, they should know where it will occur and target interventions accordingly, so that lower-middle and middle-class communities do not disproportionately bear the brunt.