The Walls Have Ears and the Echoing Whispers of Shadows
By Raja Zahid Akhtar Khanzada
Across every corner of the world, there are voices that cannot be heard, yet can be deeply felt. These are the voices that hide in the trill of a phone ring, linger between our messages, and travel invisibly through the Wi-Fi signals that connect our lives. They are the silent reminders that we are not truly free, that we are part of a vast, unseen system where every step, every word, and every breath is observed, recorded, and archived.
On September 9, Pakistan’s leading English daily, Dawn, published a report titled, “Pakistani authorities allegedly spying on millions through mass surveillance systems: Amnesty report.” The story revealed the findings of Amnesty International’s latest investigation — a report that acts as a mirror, but one that very few dare to look into.
According to Amnesty, a vast web of surveillance has been spread across Pakistan, a net invisible to the naked eye, yet ever-present, woven tightly around every citizen. Sophisticated German-made equipment, hidden gateways buried deep within the networks of the internet, and a firewall that appears to offer protection but in reality, locks away freedom — together, they form an invisible digital prison. This is a prison without iron bars, where the walls are built not from bricks, but from code and signals.
But this story is far from simple.
It did not begin today, or even yesterday, but has been unfolding over many years. This surveillance system was not crafted by a single government or the brainchild of one political party. It predates the present rulers, reaching back to a time when Pakistan’s most popular leader, Imran Khan, sat upon the throne of power.
The very system he now criticizes once grew under his watch. Back then, it was praised and defended under the banner of “national security.” The public was assured that it existed for their protection, that these tools and mechanisms were shields against chaos and danger. At that time, those who spoke of surveillance were dismissed, while the system expanded quietly, layer upon layer, unseen and unquestioned.
But time has a way of shifting perspectives.
The seat of power rotates, and with it, the language changes.
The ruler of yesterday becomes today’s opposition.
The very tools that were once called weapons of safety are now condemned as chains of oppression. This is the greatest tragedy of Pakistan’s politics: there are no enduring principles, only shifting positions.
When one holds the throne, surveillance is labeled “protection.”
When that throne is lost, the same surveillance becomes “spying.”
The very act remains unchanged — only the narrative flips with the winds of power.
This is not merely the story of Imran Khan or the current government. It is the collective tragedy of an entire nation. We, the people, walk hand in hand with shadows, yet we never ask to whom these shadows truly belong. We never question who granted others the right to watch us, to listen to us, to record the most private fragments of our lives. We never pause to wonder how our own words have been transformed into weapons that can be used against us.
The picture Amnesty’s report paints is chilling. Phone numbers, recorded calls, WhatsApp messages, Wi-Fi data packets — all meticulously captured and stored. An intricate net surrounds us, invisible yet suffocating, restraining our every move.
Close your eyes for a moment and imagine:
A heartfelt conversation with a close friend.
A private message sent to a loved one.
A Facebook like.
A late-night Google search.
Now picture all of it, every intimate moment, visible to unseen eyes.
Leaders come and go. Sometimes they strengthen this surveillance network, sometimes they shout slogans against it. The cycle repeats endlessly. The crowd cheers, the chants rise, and in some corners of Sindh, the same cry of “Jiye Bhutto!” echoes decade after decade. Yet, through it all, the nation itself remains silent on the most crucial question: Where does true freedom lie?
This is not just a matter of espionage or cyber security. It is a story of our collective conscience. It is the sorrow of a nation that has never been able to clearly define who speaks the truth and who spreads lies.
Today, when Imran Khan raises his voice against this surveillance apparatus, we must remember that the same system flourished under his rule. And tomorrow, those who now defend it will stand in opposition and condemn it with equal fervor.
Pakistan’s story continues to move in circles, round and round, endlessly repeating itself.
Until the day comes when the people open their eyes and see the truth for themselves, there will be no real freedom. It will not come from a change of government or the swapping of leaders.
Until then, the walls will continue to have ears, and the shadows will go on whispering — writing the script of our fate — while we, the people, remain nothing more than spectators in the theater of our own captivity.
