A System Without Rules: Why Pakistan’s Content Creator Crackdown Is Becoming a Policy Disaster

The latest development in the Rajab Butt and Nadeem Mubarak case once again places Pakistan’s creator economy under the spotlight, adding fresh momentum to the ongoing Pakistan content creators crackdown. After securing protective bail from the Islamabad High Court (IHC), the two London-based content creators are returning to Islamabad to surrender themselves in ongoing cybercrime cases related to promoting gambling apps and, in Mubarak’s case, displaying a fake registration plate. The court has granted them both temporary protection from arrest until they appear before the bench, while their legal teams insist they have not been deported and are returning voluntarily. Their return has revived questions about selective accountability, state priorities, and how Pakistan chooses to police its fast-growing digital creator ecosystem.

While I am strongly against the type of content many of these creators produce, much of it unethical, sensational, and corrosive to the social fabric, the current situation demands honesty on both sides. Yes, some influencers engage in illegal promotion, but many more contribute to a steady erosion of societal norms through content that is deeply irresponsible. Yet even with these concerns, the way the state is responding now is equally troubling. I disagree with their content, but I also disagree with a crackdown happening in the absence of clear rules, transparent guidelines, or institutional accountability. The state cannot punish people for violating standards that do not formally exist.

The cases against Rajab Butt and Nadeem Mubarak illustrate a growing tension in Pakistan’s digital sphere: the state is increasingly eager to police content creators, yet it has not built the regulatory framework required to guide a rapidly expanding creator economy. The result is a contradictory enforcement landscape where minor online infractions trigger aggressive legal action, while far more serious crimes in the country frequently end in pardons, deals, or quiet settlements. It is a strange irony that the system treats untrained influencers as hardened criminals while showing extraordinary leniency toward violent offenders.

Around the world, digital regulation is developing in a structured way. The UAE has clear, formal guidelines that specify what creators can discuss, how they must disclose partnerships, what attire is acceptable, and what constitutes a violation. China requires state certification and relevant qualifications before anyone can comment on political, economic, or social matters. These models are restrictive in varying degrees, but they reflect one universal principle: governments first establish the rules, then enforce them.

Pakistan has taken the opposite route. There is no comprehensive creator guideline, no licensing regime, no disclosure standards, and no clear distinction between unethical content and criminal content. Yet enforcement agencies have already begun prosecuting content creators as if such systems exist. Many of these influencers are not trained journalists, legal professionals, or policy analysts. Most are young, uneducated individuals who stumbled onto a monetizable platform and began producing the kind of sensational content the algorithm rewards. They represent the predictable result of a policy vacuum, not an intentional threat to state order.

Before going after them, it is the state’s responsibility to build the regulatory scaffolding that every mature digital economy requires. Instead, Pakistan’s institutions are once again choosing the easier path: targeting individuals who are visible, vulnerable, and unlikely to mount a sophisticated legal defense. This selective enforcement creates spectacle, not reform.

The Ducky Bhai scandal revealed just how deep the institutional rot runs. Instead of addressing the structural corruption within the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency (NCCIA), the crisis resulted in seven officers being scapegoated. The message was that a few resignations could wipe the slate clean. NCCIA now acts as though it has purged itself of all wrongdoing, even as no real action has been taken against the gambling applications at the heart of these controversies. The platforms continue operating, the financial networks behind them remain untouched, and the corruption channels exposed during the scandal have not been meaningfully dismantled.

Meanwhile, the most visible figure in that fiasco is already back to making content. Nothing about the system has changed; only the targets have rotated. The cycle repeats because enforcement is reactive, not structural.

Pakistan’s creator economy is growing fast, too fast for the state’s outdated frameworks. Thousands of young people are entering digital platforms every month with no training, no awareness of legal boundaries, and no understanding of the risks. In such an environment, punitive measures without guidance become not just ineffective but unjust.

The solution is not to shut creators down but to create a clear, modern regulatory architecture: guidelines on advertising, disclosures for sponsored content, restrictions on harmful material, rules for minors, and transparent procedures for enforcement. Without these, Pakistan will remain trapped in a perpetual loop of crackdowns, scandals, scapegoats, and unresolved institutional corruption.

Right now, it is difficult to escape the impression that the entire system, from regulators to creators, is functioning without a compass. The result is what many observers are calling a complete breakdown: a “show” driven by contradictions, selective accountability, and unresolved corruption. And unless Pakistan builds a coherent policy framework, this cycle will not end.