Pakistan maintains one of the world's largest death row populations, yet its capital punishment system does not achieve the divine justice it claims to represent. While state authorities routinely invoke Islamic jurisprudence to legitimize the gallows, the practical application of these laws has created a dual-track justice system. Wealthy offenders exploit loopholes to buy their freedom, while impoverished citizens face execution for minor or non-violent offenses. The reality of capital punishment in Pakistan is not a reflection of sacred mandates, but rather a tool of political convenience and systemic inequality that fails the vulnerable.
The public narrative surrounding the death penalty in Pakistan relies heavily on religious compliance. State prosecutors and conservative clerics frequently cite scriptural allowances for retribution to justify the state's retention of the ultimate punishment. This defense completely ignores the stringent evidentiary standards and deep emphasis on mercy inherent in Islamic legal traditions. By merging colonial-era penal codes with hastily drafted religious ordinances, the state has built a legal apparatus that accomplishes neither systemic deterrence nor moral equity.
The Weaponization of Qisas and Diyat
The foundational shift in Pakistan's capital jurisprudence occurred during the military regime of General Zia-ul-Haq and the subsequent legal transitions of the 1990s. The introduction of the Qisas and Diyat Ordinance fundamentally altered how murder was treated by the state. Qisas allows for equal retribution, while Diyat introduces the concept of blood money, allowing a victim's family to pardon a killer in exchange for financial compensation. This change transformed murder from a crime against the state into a private dispute between individuals.
The consequences of this privatization have been catastrophic for the rule of law. Rich individuals who commit intentional homicide can negotiate financial settlements with the heirs of the deceased, walking out of court completely unscathed. Consider a hypothetical scenario where a wealthy landlord kills a domestic worker in a fit of rage. Under the current application of Diyat, the landlord can offer a life-changing sum of money to the victim's impoverished family, who are often under immense societal and economic pressure to accept. The settlement is finalized, the charges are dropped, and the state abdicates its responsibility to enforce justice.
For the poor, this mechanism offers no salvation. When a laborer is accused of a capital crime, there is no capital available to purchase a pardon. They are left to rely on a dysfunctional public defense system that rarely provides an adequate shield against state prosecutors. The law essentially places a literal price tag on human life. Those who cannot afford to pay the price end up on the long, slow march toward the gallows.
The Myth of the Anti Terrorist Deterrent
Whenever international human rights organizations pressure Pakistan to reinstate its moratorium on executions, the government points to national security. The country lifted its six-year moratorium on the death penalty in December 2014, following the horrific massacre at the Army Public School in Peshawar. The state promised that the resumption of hangings would target hardcore terrorists and dismantle insurgent networks.
The data tells a completely different story. Within months of lifting the ban, the scope of executions expanded far beyond terrorism-related offenses. The vast majority of individuals executed since 2014 were convicted of regular murders or crimes that do not meet the international threshold of the most serious offenses. The anti-terrorism courts themselves became a catch-all mechanism for fast-tracking ordinary criminal cases, stripped of standard constitutional protections.
The state used the collective trauma of a national tragedy to legitimize a sweeping execution campaign. This approach did little to disrupt terrorist networks, which operate on ideological motivations that are rarely deterred by the threat of a state execution. Instead of building better intelligence mechanisms or reforming forensic investigative techniques, the state chose the theatrical display of the noose to project an illusion of control.
Systemic Failure in the Courtrooms
The machinery that sends individuals to death row in Pakistan is broken at every single stage. It begins at the local police station, where the lack of modern forensic tools leads to an over-reliance on forced confessions and questionable eyewitness testimonies. Torture remains a common tool of investigation across police departments, used to extract admissions of guilt from suspects who lack the social standing to defend themselves.
Forced Confessions and Weak Evidence
The judiciary rarely scrutinizes the methods used to obtain confessions. Lower courts face enormous backlogs and immense public pressure to secure convictions, often overlooking clear signs of physical abuse or procedural violations. By the time a case reaches the High Court or the Supreme Court for appeal, years or even decades have passed. The original evidentiary flaws are baked into the record, making it exceptionally difficult for defense lawyers to overturn the conviction.
The Problem of Mentally Ill and Juvenile Prisoners
The system's cruelty is most visible in its treatment of vulnerable populations. Despite clear prohibitions in both international law and domestic rulings, individuals with severe mental illnesses and those who were juveniles at the time of their alleged offenses remain on death row. The burden of proving a prisoner's mental incompetence or minor status falls entirely on underfunded defense teams, while prison authorities routinely ignore medical anomalies to keep the execution timeline moving forward.
Statutory Overreach and Non Violent Crimes
Pakistan's penal code prescribes the death penalty for nearly thirty different offenses. Many of these crimes do not involve intentional killing, including drug smuggling, railway sabotage, and blasphemy. The inclusion of non-lethal crimes in the capital offense category creates a structural imbalance where the ultimate punishment is applied disproportionately.
The blasphemy laws represent a particularly volatile intersection of state power and social pressure. Accusations of blasphemy are frequently weaponized to settle personal vendettas, seize property, or target religious minorities. Once an accusation is made, the accused faces an immediate threat to their life, not just from the legal system, but from vigiline mobs. Judges in lower courts often convict out of fear for their own safety, passing the responsibility to appellate courts while the prisoner languishes in solitary confinement for years.
The state's refusal to narrow the scope of capital offenses reflects a deeper reluctance to confront extremist narratives. By keeping these broad provisions on the books, the government attempts to appease hardline factions, using the death penalty as a political pressure valve rather than a measure of public safety.
The Real Cost of Retaining the Gallows
The human cost of maintaining this bloated capital architecture falls squarely on the margins of Pakistani society. It diverts immense administrative and financial resources away from necessary police reforms, modern forensic labs, and judicial training. The state pours capital into maintaining execution facilities and processing thousands of endless appeals, while the root causes of violent crime remain entirely unaddressed.
True reform requires more than a temporary pause in executions or symbolic legislative amendments. It demands a complete overhaul of how capital jurisprudence is structured, beginning with the separation of private settlements from public criminal responsibility. If the state continues to allow financial assets to dictate legal outcomes, it cannot claim its laws are derived from divine justice. The gallows in Pakistan will remain a monument to systemic inequality, punishing poverty while offering immunity to the powerful.
