An empty cartridge in Indonesia
Zulfiqar Ali is part of a larger wave of executions under Indonesia’s President Joko Widodo
The writer is a barrister and columnist
Last week, Zulfiqar Ali, a citizen of this country, was to be executed by firing squad. He was to be shot in Nusakambangan, an island where Indonesia sends its convicted to die.
How this man ended up in Indonesia’s Alcatraz is the stuff of nightmares. To begin with, Mr Ali is from Gujranwala — his journey abroad, like that of so many other Pakistanis, was to make a better life for himself, and his family.
He was officially arrested in 2004, for possessing 350 grams of heroin. Only, Mr Ali had not a gram of heroin on him at the time of arrest.
That was another man called Gurdip Singh: it was Gurdip who was arrested at Jakarta’s airport for heroin possession, and Gurdip that testified as to Mr Ali’s involvement. Three months passed before Mr Ali was actually arrested.
The premise was flawed, and the process was flawed: now behind bars, Mr Ali wasn’t allowed access to a lawyer for a month, despite Indonesian law. He wasn’t allowed access to Pakistan’s embassy, despite international law.
It gets worse. He was beaten within an inch of his life by the Bandara Soekarno-Hatta district police — for days on end, from the date of his arrest. His screams were heard throughout the jail. His stomach and kidneys were kicked in, requiring surgery. And we’ve not yet started on trial.
No doubt, the fairness of any verdict was in question: the man wasn’t given a lawyer in time, was beaten by an especially sadistic strain of police, and was coerced into a confession he denied at first opportunity.
But the trial was a travesty all on its own. First, Gurdip Singh retracted his statement, yet the court continued to try Mr Ali anyway.
Second, a witness statement admitting the drugs didn’t belong to Mr Ali was rejected — because the statement wasn’t dated.
Third, the Tangerang District Court had blood in its eyes: it handed down the death penalty, even when the prosecution was only seeking a life sentence.
In its infinite wisdom, a high court upheld the decision a year later, with pleas for judicial review turned down one after the other.
Whatever the steady march of light and liberty, what we know now is what we knew a thousand years ago: with not a shred of material evidence brought against him, a man may yet be sentenced to die.
Thus, Mr Ali spent the next decade of his life in prison, awaiting a death less associated with thriving democracies than Latin American dictatorships: the firing squad.
What we’re told about such squads — often — is that one lucky member is handed an empty cartridge, without being told. The logic goes that a man is more likely to shoot to kill, if under the false impression he might be firing blanks. It’s an execution so ugly, even the executioners are spared the trauma.
Yet Jakarta remains gung-ho over its executions: Indonesia’s Attorney General said “the public want it done soon”. But the public always want it done soon,from Rome to Revolutionary Iran, when cranes lifted men’s necks to the sky — the public has bayed for blood since times eternal.
As Indonesia’s top law officer, the Attorney General should know the first requirement of any legal system is to remove itself from the madding crowd. That, and a fair trial.
But the government has other ideas. Mr Ali is part of a larger wave of executions under President Joko Widodo. Considered a fresh face among Indonesia’s re-recycled elite, Widodo’s election has come as cold comfort for human rights groups (in a country where executions rise in election years). Styling himself as tough on crime — especially drugs — his term may see the highest number of executions in democratic Indonesia.
And Mr Ali’s is not the only story: there’s the Nigerian clothes importer whose genitals were electrocuted. There’s the Filipino girl who was spared at the last minute, because her relative turned himself in for planting heroin in her suitcase.
It seems Jakarta wishes to crack down on drugs, by killing the wrong people. Mr Ali was seconds from being one of them.
As coffins were ferried to Nusakambangan, the campaign to save Mr Ali’s life finally kicked into gear. At the lowest end of the spectrum was the state — surly, sleepy, and best left undisturbed.
At the other end of the spectrum was Justice Project Pakistan (JPP), a non-profit human rights firm. With Mr Ali’s life on the line, it was a race against time, and the JPP team pushed every button and pressed every nerve it could to fire up momentum. Mr Ali’s family, too, protested in Lahore.
With rage in Pakistan reaching fever pitch, Islamabad at last began making calls. They came 12 years late but, unbelievably, not late enough.
As dawn broke last Thursday, there came the wonderful news that Mr Ali’s life had been spared — if for a tiny respite.
Once again, it took the pressure of committed citizens — with the state following, kicking and screaming — to achieve something extraordinary. But even as Mr Ali’s life remains in danger, the state remains unequipped to prevent the same happening to other citizens.
Mr Ali was not provided legal counsel in time by Pakistan; his continued imprisonment went unchallenged by three consecutive governments — the Musharraf regime, the Zardari crew, and today’s Nawaz League — his ridiculous trial was not torn apart on international fora; and the only reason his case reached a wider audience at all (including, shamefully, this column’s) was the 24-hour efforts of rights groups.
The Jakarta Post now reports that Pakistan is to “move forward with efforts to save Zulfiqar Ali”. The paper quoted the authorities “[formulating] a new strategy to prove Ali’s innocence”.
What’s certain is the old strategy isn’t working: the thousands of Zulfiqar Alis in foreign prisons have no actual foreign minister to plead for them. And let’s face it: their eventual executions — from public beheadings in Saudi Arabia to firing squads in Indonesia — fail to register in the hearts of their countrymen.
In Mr Ali’s case though, we saw the slightest stirrings of change: a fierce fight by rights activists, an earnest campaign by private channels, a follow-up by our diplomats, and something of a reprieve for Mr Ali. Might this be the start of something better than before?
“Kill me ten times if I’m found guilty,” Mr Ali told the press last week. He isn’t, and it’s time he’s brought back. There’s been enough killing.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 2nd, 2016.
How this man ended up in Indonesia’s Alcatraz is the stuff of nightmares. To begin with, Mr Ali is from Gujranwala — his journey abroad, like that of so many other Pakistanis, was to make a better life for himself, and his family.
He was officially arrested in 2004, for possessing 350 grams of heroin. Only, Mr Ali had not a gram of heroin on him at the time of arrest.
That was another man called Gurdip Singh: it was Gurdip who was arrested at Jakarta’s airport for heroin possession, and Gurdip that testified as to Mr Ali’s involvement. Three months passed before Mr Ali was actually arrested.
The premise was flawed, and the process was flawed: now behind bars, Mr Ali wasn’t allowed access to a lawyer for a month, despite Indonesian law. He wasn’t allowed access to Pakistan’s embassy, despite international law.
It gets worse. He was beaten within an inch of his life by the Bandara Soekarno-Hatta district police — for days on end, from the date of his arrest. His screams were heard throughout the jail. His stomach and kidneys were kicked in, requiring surgery. And we’ve not yet started on trial.
No doubt, the fairness of any verdict was in question: the man wasn’t given a lawyer in time, was beaten by an especially sadistic strain of police, and was coerced into a confession he denied at first opportunity.
But the trial was a travesty all on its own. First, Gurdip Singh retracted his statement, yet the court continued to try Mr Ali anyway.
Second, a witness statement admitting the drugs didn’t belong to Mr Ali was rejected — because the statement wasn’t dated.
Third, the Tangerang District Court had blood in its eyes: it handed down the death penalty, even when the prosecution was only seeking a life sentence.
In its infinite wisdom, a high court upheld the decision a year later, with pleas for judicial review turned down one after the other.
Whatever the steady march of light and liberty, what we know now is what we knew a thousand years ago: with not a shred of material evidence brought against him, a man may yet be sentenced to die.
Thus, Mr Ali spent the next decade of his life in prison, awaiting a death less associated with thriving democracies than Latin American dictatorships: the firing squad.
What we’re told about such squads — often — is that one lucky member is handed an empty cartridge, without being told. The logic goes that a man is more likely to shoot to kill, if under the false impression he might be firing blanks. It’s an execution so ugly, even the executioners are spared the trauma.
Yet Jakarta remains gung-ho over its executions: Indonesia’s Attorney General said “the public want it done soon”. But the public always want it done soon,from Rome to Revolutionary Iran, when cranes lifted men’s necks to the sky — the public has bayed for blood since times eternal.
As Indonesia’s top law officer, the Attorney General should know the first requirement of any legal system is to remove itself from the madding crowd. That, and a fair trial.
But the government has other ideas. Mr Ali is part of a larger wave of executions under President Joko Widodo. Considered a fresh face among Indonesia’s re-recycled elite, Widodo’s election has come as cold comfort for human rights groups (in a country where executions rise in election years). Styling himself as tough on crime — especially drugs — his term may see the highest number of executions in democratic Indonesia.
And Mr Ali’s is not the only story: there’s the Nigerian clothes importer whose genitals were electrocuted. There’s the Filipino girl who was spared at the last minute, because her relative turned himself in for planting heroin in her suitcase.
It seems Jakarta wishes to crack down on drugs, by killing the wrong people. Mr Ali was seconds from being one of them.
As coffins were ferried to Nusakambangan, the campaign to save Mr Ali’s life finally kicked into gear. At the lowest end of the spectrum was the state — surly, sleepy, and best left undisturbed.
At the other end of the spectrum was Justice Project Pakistan (JPP), a non-profit human rights firm. With Mr Ali’s life on the line, it was a race against time, and the JPP team pushed every button and pressed every nerve it could to fire up momentum. Mr Ali’s family, too, protested in Lahore.
With rage in Pakistan reaching fever pitch, Islamabad at last began making calls. They came 12 years late but, unbelievably, not late enough.
As dawn broke last Thursday, there came the wonderful news that Mr Ali’s life had been spared — if for a tiny respite.
Once again, it took the pressure of committed citizens — with the state following, kicking and screaming — to achieve something extraordinary. But even as Mr Ali’s life remains in danger, the state remains unequipped to prevent the same happening to other citizens.
Mr Ali was not provided legal counsel in time by Pakistan; his continued imprisonment went unchallenged by three consecutive governments — the Musharraf regime, the Zardari crew, and today’s Nawaz League — his ridiculous trial was not torn apart on international fora; and the only reason his case reached a wider audience at all (including, shamefully, this column’s) was the 24-hour efforts of rights groups.
The Jakarta Post now reports that Pakistan is to “move forward with efforts to save Zulfiqar Ali”. The paper quoted the authorities “[formulating] a new strategy to prove Ali’s innocence”.
What’s certain is the old strategy isn’t working: the thousands of Zulfiqar Alis in foreign prisons have no actual foreign minister to plead for them. And let’s face it: their eventual executions — from public beheadings in Saudi Arabia to firing squads in Indonesia — fail to register in the hearts of their countrymen.
In Mr Ali’s case though, we saw the slightest stirrings of change: a fierce fight by rights activists, an earnest campaign by private channels, a follow-up by our diplomats, and something of a reprieve for Mr Ali. Might this be the start of something better than before?
“Kill me ten times if I’m found guilty,” Mr Ali told the press last week. He isn’t, and it’s time he’s brought back. There’s been enough killing.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 2nd, 2016.