Death penalty — the human tragedy behind the numbers
When a member of LeJ was executed, word on the street was that they distributed mithai to celebrate his ‘martyrdom’
The writer is the Pakistan researcher for Amnesty International
The loud thud was as terrifying as it was deafening. I was standing by the gallows in one of Pakistan’s biggest jails, where I had come to gather information about the death penalty in Pakistan. The prison superintendent, who I had spent several hours talking to, wanted me to hear the sound the scaffold makes when a prisoner drops. I had politely declined an offer to pull the lever myself — instead, one of the prison guards had just done so.
The silence that followed was eerie. The superintendent was visibly shaken and disturbed. After witnessing the first few hangings which had taken place at the jail, he now chooses to wait them out in his office. “You cannot imagine how my heart moved at the sound of the scaffold opening.”
Since December 2014, when Pakistan lifted a moratorium on executions in the wake of the horrific Peshawar school attack, Amnesty International has recorded 190 executions in Pakistan. Pakistan is fast becoming one of the world’s top executioners, and is this year, in fact, only trailing behind China and Iran. This is a shameful club no one should aspire to join. While authorities imposed a pause on the death penalty during the month of Ramazan, the conveyor belt of executions has once again resumed.
My visit to the gallows forced me to confront the human tragedy behind Pakistan’s grim execution statistics.
I thought about Zulfiqar Khan, a prisoner I knew well before his execution on May 6, 2015. He spent 16 years on death row following a manifestly unfair trial, and during that period devoted his time to educating himself and other prisoners. He was fondly known as “Dr Zulfiqar” by prisoners and wardens alike because of the number of educational degrees he obtained. Looking around the gallows, I wondered what thoughts went through Zulfiqar Khan’s mind when he was hooded and walked to his death. Did he think of fellow prisoners he had educated and inspired, or of his two teenage daughters who would be left orphans? Whenever I met him on death row, he always said he wanted the chance to live so he could continue educating others and be there for his daughters — but his hanging denied him that chance.
I was shown the spot where the prisoner writes his will before he is hanged. It made me wonder how Khizar Hayat, who has been diagnosed with a severe mental disability, would feel about writing his last will and if he would need assistance. Khizar Hayat was scheduled for execution on July 28, 2015 but was given a stay last week by the Lahore sessions court judge who requested more information from the prison authorities about his mental health. A mercy petition pending at the president’s office could also save Khizar Hayat from the hangman’s noose.
Among those executed in Pakistan this year was 16-year-old Muhammad Afzal. When Muhammad Afzal was asked for his last words before being hanged, he admitted killing a man during a robbery, but also spoke of the extreme poverty he had grown up in. He claimed that the police officers who arrested him said they would not file terrorism charges against him in exchange for a Rs60,000 bribe, but his family was too poor to pay. How many others have been executed under the guise of terrorism just because they didn’t have the money? Justice has a perverse meaning in Pakistan.
Another life scheduled to come to an end on August 4 is that of Shafqat Hussain. He was first sentenced to death in 2004 — his lawyers say a “confession” obtained as a result of torture was the basis of his conviction and that he was a juvenile at the time of his alleged crime. We hope the Sindh government will take heed of the request from the Sindh Human Rights Committee to consider these claims and stop his hanging before it is too late.
As tragic as these stories are, it is also worth considering how far the arguments put forth in support of the death penalty fall short. There is no question that the incomprehensible cruelty of the Peshawar school attack demanded a strong response. Those responsible must be held to account — but the death penalty is not the answer to tackling crime or terrorism. There is not a shred of evidence that the death penalty is a better deterrent to violent crime than a prison sentence — something that has been confirmed in many studies globally, including by the UN.
On the contrary, what the superintendent said that day made me wonder if it is having the opposite effect. When a member of the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi militant group was executed, word on the street was that the organisation was distributing mithai to celebrate his ‘martyrdom’ — effectively using the death penalty as a recruitment tool.
What makes the use of the death penalty in Pakistan particularly troubling is the many violations of fair trial rights. The judicial system is riddled with flaws — defendants often lack adequate access to legal counsel, ‘evidence’ extracted through torture is used as a basis for convictions, corruption is rife, and groups protected under international law, such as juveniles or persons with mental or intellectual disabilities, are often sentenced to death.
Pakistani authorities must reimpose a moratorium on the death penalty, with a view to its eventual repeal. When those who are forced to witness the horrific reality of executions, such as the superintendent, recognise that it is the ultimate cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment, it is high time that the government did so too. This ongoing assault on the right to life must end.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 1st, 2015.
The silence that followed was eerie. The superintendent was visibly shaken and disturbed. After witnessing the first few hangings which had taken place at the jail, he now chooses to wait them out in his office. “You cannot imagine how my heart moved at the sound of the scaffold opening.”
Since December 2014, when Pakistan lifted a moratorium on executions in the wake of the horrific Peshawar school attack, Amnesty International has recorded 190 executions in Pakistan. Pakistan is fast becoming one of the world’s top executioners, and is this year, in fact, only trailing behind China and Iran. This is a shameful club no one should aspire to join. While authorities imposed a pause on the death penalty during the month of Ramazan, the conveyor belt of executions has once again resumed.
My visit to the gallows forced me to confront the human tragedy behind Pakistan’s grim execution statistics.
I thought about Zulfiqar Khan, a prisoner I knew well before his execution on May 6, 2015. He spent 16 years on death row following a manifestly unfair trial, and during that period devoted his time to educating himself and other prisoners. He was fondly known as “Dr Zulfiqar” by prisoners and wardens alike because of the number of educational degrees he obtained. Looking around the gallows, I wondered what thoughts went through Zulfiqar Khan’s mind when he was hooded and walked to his death. Did he think of fellow prisoners he had educated and inspired, or of his two teenage daughters who would be left orphans? Whenever I met him on death row, he always said he wanted the chance to live so he could continue educating others and be there for his daughters — but his hanging denied him that chance.
I was shown the spot where the prisoner writes his will before he is hanged. It made me wonder how Khizar Hayat, who has been diagnosed with a severe mental disability, would feel about writing his last will and if he would need assistance. Khizar Hayat was scheduled for execution on July 28, 2015 but was given a stay last week by the Lahore sessions court judge who requested more information from the prison authorities about his mental health. A mercy petition pending at the president’s office could also save Khizar Hayat from the hangman’s noose.
Among those executed in Pakistan this year was 16-year-old Muhammad Afzal. When Muhammad Afzal was asked for his last words before being hanged, he admitted killing a man during a robbery, but also spoke of the extreme poverty he had grown up in. He claimed that the police officers who arrested him said they would not file terrorism charges against him in exchange for a Rs60,000 bribe, but his family was too poor to pay. How many others have been executed under the guise of terrorism just because they didn’t have the money? Justice has a perverse meaning in Pakistan.
Another life scheduled to come to an end on August 4 is that of Shafqat Hussain. He was first sentenced to death in 2004 — his lawyers say a “confession” obtained as a result of torture was the basis of his conviction and that he was a juvenile at the time of his alleged crime. We hope the Sindh government will take heed of the request from the Sindh Human Rights Committee to consider these claims and stop his hanging before it is too late.
As tragic as these stories are, it is also worth considering how far the arguments put forth in support of the death penalty fall short. There is no question that the incomprehensible cruelty of the Peshawar school attack demanded a strong response. Those responsible must be held to account — but the death penalty is not the answer to tackling crime or terrorism. There is not a shred of evidence that the death penalty is a better deterrent to violent crime than a prison sentence — something that has been confirmed in many studies globally, including by the UN.
On the contrary, what the superintendent said that day made me wonder if it is having the opposite effect. When a member of the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi militant group was executed, word on the street was that the organisation was distributing mithai to celebrate his ‘martyrdom’ — effectively using the death penalty as a recruitment tool.
What makes the use of the death penalty in Pakistan particularly troubling is the many violations of fair trial rights. The judicial system is riddled with flaws — defendants often lack adequate access to legal counsel, ‘evidence’ extracted through torture is used as a basis for convictions, corruption is rife, and groups protected under international law, such as juveniles or persons with mental or intellectual disabilities, are often sentenced to death.
Pakistani authorities must reimpose a moratorium on the death penalty, with a view to its eventual repeal. When those who are forced to witness the horrific reality of executions, such as the superintendent, recognise that it is the ultimate cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment, it is high time that the government did so too. This ongoing assault on the right to life must end.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 1st, 2015.