As I hope for justice for Junaid Hafeez, I say a silent prayer for those nameless, faceless others who, terrified, broken, forgotten, in their solitary confinement, wait for someone to reach them. Before they forget to dream of justice, I hope someone will hear their pleas made in despair, in darkness. Allah listens. His people don’t.
As I hope for justice for Hafeez and all those whose cases remain forgotten in moldy files in clunky cabinets creaking under the weight of untried cases, I’m thinking about the 169-page long judgment of a three-judge–Justice Waqar Seth, Justice Nazar Akbar and Justice Shahid Karim–special court. The bench was split two-one. On December 18, the court had announced its verdict and awarding of death sentence to General (Retd) Pervez Musharraf in the six-year long case of ‘high treason as defined in the Article 6 of the Constitution of Pakistan’.
Being a categorical denouncer of capital punishment, I have no laudatory words for the awarding of death sentence to Musharraf. I have no issue whatsoever with a fair trial of Pervez Musharraf or Nawaz Sharif. I do not need the article seven of the Universal Human Rights Declaration to tell me that all are equal before the law. Having always maintained that Musharraf must face a trial in Pakistan, I do not condone the verdict of death sentence for him or anyone else.
Undeniable though is the historic symbolism of the verdict: law is the same for all. The symbolism is of seismic significance: the hitherto inconceivable notion of legal consequences for the unconstitutional actions of a military dictator is no longer relevant in Pakistan where the military is viewed as omnipotent.
The reaction of Pakistan to the verdict is as could be expected in a case against a former chief of army staff (COAS) who became the president in 2001 after his October 1999 overthrow of the elected prime minister, Nawaz Sharif. The verdict is on the accusation of the subversion of the constitution with Musharraf’s imposition of emergency rule in October 2007.
Not many other than the members and supporters of the opposition parties seem to have rejoiced at the verdict. As the majority has applauded the unexpectedness of a civilian court holding its own in a case against the member, of the highest distinction, of what is considered the most powerful institution of Pakistan, the death sentence and the opaqueness of the legal process have raised many questions, some fair, some objective, some rhetorical, some gratuitous, and some emotional.
The statement of DG ISPR Major General Asif Ghafoor expressed the reaction of the armed forces, "An ex-Army Chief, Chairman Joint Chief of Staff Committee and President of Pakistan, who has served the country for over 40 years, fought wars for the defence of the country, can surely never be a traitor. The due legal process seems to have been ignored including constitution of special court, denial of fundamental right of self defence, undertaking individual specific proceedings and concluding the case in haste.”
Without claiming to know much about the law and the technicalities of the Musharraf case, the statement of the ISPR made me think again about the forgotten those who accused of blasphemy have been in jail for years without the hope of the fundamental right of anyone accused of a crime: the right to trial. The proceedings and the outcome of a trial only attain relevance once the trial is underway. The blasphemy accused are made to wait for years before they set foot in a court that is ready to have their case go through the requisite legal process. The fairness of the verdict is a dream for not merely those accused of blasphemy but for all those who belong to that class of society whose rights are disposable, and whose existence and absence are of no consequence to the lawmakers and the dispensers of justice: the underprivileged, the poor, the majority.
On December 19, the details of the verdict made headlines. The death sentence was stark yet chilling. “As a necessary corollary to what has been observed we find the accused guilty as per charge. The convict be therefore hanged by his neck till he dies on each count as per charge.” Hanging once is not enough. Multiple hangings, even that of the dead body, would serve the idea of ‘justice’. In Pakistan where the legal system is shoddy, weak, long, full of loopholes and legal inconsistences, and where recently the posthumous release of two brothers made news–hanged for a crime they did not commit–the glorification of capital punishment is macabre. And mindlessly callous.
Capital punishment in a world full of the innocent not getting a fair trial is primitive and retributive. The Amnesty International states: “At the end of 2018, 106 countries (a majority of the world’s states) had abolished the death penalty in law for all crimes, and 142 countries (more than two-thirds) had abolished the death penalty in law or practice.” Capital punishment, as multiple studies prove, is not deterrence for crime.
Amnesty also reported: “In Pakistan, executions fell from at least 60 in 2017 to at least 14 in 2018.”
In the 2019 Pakistan, awarding of death sentence to a 76-year-old former general, COAS and president is being hailed as justice.
What made me write about the Musharraf case as I was compiling information about blasphemy cases was one paragraph in the 169-page court verdict that had the whole of Pakistan sit up in shock, horror and disgust. Paragraph 66. For once, the condemnation was almost unanimous.
The presiding judge, Justice Seth, made a ruling: “We direct the Law Enforcement Agencies to strive their level best to apprehend the fugitive/convict to ensure that the punishment is inflicted as per law and if found dead, his corpse be dragged to the D-Chowk, Islamabad, Pakistan and be hanged for 03 days.”
There are not enough words for expression of condemnation for the ruling of dragging of a corpse and hanging it for three days.
In a world in which 106 countries have abolished capital punishment, and 142 countries have abolished the death penalty in law or practice, a Pakistani court has not only given the death sentence to a 76-year-old former general, COAS and president, it has ordered for his dead body to be dragged and hung in a chowk–used for political protests–for three days. The ruling is not impartial; the ruling reeks of the personal contempt of the judge for the accused. Paragraph 66 is not justice; it is primitive barbarity.
Justice of a court is not vengeance. Justice of a court is not ugly. Justice of a court is not a licence to inflict brutality. Justice of a court is not a tool of retribution. Justice of a court is fair, impartial and objective. Justice of a court is devoid of personal feelings, agendas and interests.
Justice of a court does not order desecration of a dead body.
I, as a Pakistani, stand with the Pakistan Armed Forces and all Pakistanis who oppose the death penalty for General (Retd) Pervez Musharraf.
I, as a human being and a Pakistani, condemn the clause in the verdict about desecration of Musharraf’s body.
I, as a human being, a Muslim, and a Pakistani, fear for the life of the forty people on death row on the accusation of blasphemy. The number is uncertain because to even have a proper documentation of the blasphemy accused is sacrilegious in Pakistan that prides itself on being Islamic but is heartlessly and mindlessly oblivious to the importance of the divine traits of mercy and forgiveness.
I, as a human being and a Pakistani, do not see much hope for justice for the faceless, nameless, forgotten blasphemy accused when General (Retd) Pervez Musharraf, former Chief of Army Staff and former president, is given the death sentence, to be hanged multiple times, his dead body to be dragged and hung in a chowk for three days.
When a court becomes a medieval arena of retribution and gratuitous ruthlessness, justice hangs its head and weeps.
(This is the last part of a multiple-part series on misuse of blasphemy law in Pakistan)
