Federal Constitutional Court Rules 2026: Pakistan's Bench-Formation Power Returns to One Hand

A notification emerged from Islamabad last week. Its title sounds harmless — the Federal Constitutional Court (Practice and Procedure) Rules, 2026. On a first read, it looks like routine housekeeping for a court's internal workings. But I have learned to read deal sheets like crime scenes, and the real story is never in the headline — it sits in a sub-clause, right beside the word discretion. That is exactly what happened here. One sentence changes the entire architecture. Under the new court, the sole authority to constitute benches sits with the chief justice. The three-judge committee model introduced by the Supreme Court (Practice and Procedure) Act 2026 has no trace in these rules. So Pakistan now has two apex courts, but two different systems for forming benches. That gap is today's subject. I have learned to read the deal sheet like a crime scene — here, the sheet is not paper, it is power. Pakistan's constitutional history has trembled repeatedly over the past two decades. The like-minded benches debate after 2026, open wrangling over the roster inside the Supreme Court, and more recently the 26th and 27th constitutional amendments — all revolve around one question: which judge hears which case, and who decides that? The institutional name for this power is the master of roster. In 2026, parliament split that single power and handed bench formation to a three-judge committee. Then came the 26th Amendment, then the 27th — which created a new Federal Constitutional Court and moved some jurisdiction over fundamental-rights enforcement and constitutional interpretation away from the Supreme Court. The judges of this new court are appointed by the federal government. This is where politics casts its shadow. In the current political arrangement, PTI and Imran Khan-related matters are extremely sensitive. Which court these cases eventually reach, and how that court forms its benches, is no longer mere procedure — it is a direct question of power. Anyone who sees only legal rules here sees half the picture. I read the rules line by line — the way I once read a club's contract by its timestamps. What emerged sits in three layers. The first layer: bench formation. Under the rules, who hears which case and who sits on which bench is determined by the chief justice. The committee model of the 2026 Act is absent in the new court. Power has returned to a single hand. The second layer: resolving disagreement. If judges on a bench differ, the matter goes to another judge or a larger bench — but that decision, too, rests on the chief justice's discretion. The tie-break process returns to the same centre. On the surface this is administrative simplicity; on analysis, it is further concentration of power. The third layer: forming larger benches. At any stage, on grounds of importance, complexity, or public significance, the chief justice may constitute a larger bench. The flexibility argument here is true; but it is also a key to control. Read together, the three clauses produce this: inside the new Federal Constitutional Court, the entire control of bench formation is concentrated in the chief justice. The Supreme Court still has its three-judge committee; the new court does not. So Pakistan now has a two-tier bench-formation regime — one committee-based, one single-authority-based. That asymmetry is small on paper, large in practice. Why this design? Here is my second look. The record carries a quote from a named lawyer — Abdul Moiz Jaferii. His argument: since this court's independent standing is not yet established, it is being built as a disciplined, almost military camp-like single unit — one instruction, less debate. This is an explicit centralisation argument, made on the record. This is where the gap between fact and promotion is widest. The main argument for the new rules is precision and efficiency — fast, specific justice. But the numbers say otherwise. According to the record, seven judicial seats are vacant, and more than 23,000 cases are pending. For fiscal year 2026-27, the allocation for this court is Rs6.048 billion. So the machine that has just started is missing seven of its parts, and the queue is already long. The tension between the efficiency claim and the capacity reality is the least discussed part. In this context the phrase battle of perception matters. When judges appointed by the federal government hear politically sensitive matters, a parallel question attaches to every ruling — did the decision come only from the law, or also from the thread of appointment? That question forms outside the court, not inside; but it lands inside. Another point is often ignored. When bench-formation power sits with a single authority, it is not merely one person's decision — it creates a culture. Judges know who is fixing the bench; lawyers know whose desk a case will reach. That knowledge shapes how cases are run. So the question is not only who decides — but what behaviour that decision creates. There is another layer over the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court and the new court, still not fully clear. After the 27th Amendment, which case goes where between the two courts is not always a clean line. A case can be challenged in parallel before both. That ambiguity is not a legal weakness — it is a strategic opening that parties can exploit. The popular story is easy and comfortable: a new court means government control, because the government appoints the judges. But I chase timestamps, not rumours, because timestamps leave fingerprints — and this record shows a more complicated picture. First, the past position of the new court's own chief justice is notable. He once favoured the idea of a three-judge committee — yet now administers rules in which that committee does not exist. This is either a change of view or a constraint. Which one, only time will tell; jumping to a conclusion now would be wrong. Second, the real test of the controlled court theory comes at the moment of a ruling, not the moment of appointment. If this court rules against the government in a high-profile matter, the control story partly collapses. So treating the government-control theory as final before any ruling would be a mistake — and it is the most common mistake. Third, the seven vacant seats are not merely a shortfall; they may also be a strategy. If, before fixing composition according to the kind of cases arriving, it is decided slowly who joins, those vacancies stop being a mere administrative problem. This is a cautious but reasonable suspicion — and I concede the distance between suspicion and proof. I do not see conspiracy in every clause. Some clauses are routine formality — filing, recording, limitation. But in these rules the word discretion keeps returning, and that is not coincidence. Every decision has a public story and a documented story — and the real trail is left by the documented one. Where next? Three places to watch. One, how the bench is formed for the first sensitive matter — that is the real test. Two, when and how the seven vacant seats are filled — whether at once or slowly matters. Three, whether the jurisdictions of the Supreme Court and the new court collide — because a two-tier system also means double uncertainty. These rules are silent now. But history says clauses stay silent — until a case turns them into headlines. In Pakistan's case, that case will not be long in coming; the only question is who will be occupying the chairs of the bench that day.