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PRISON and the justice system are inextricably linked as the former should only result after a due process of the latter. Politicians and judges are at the same time victims and beneficiaries of a broken judicial system. The dishonest work the system to their advantage and the upright pay the price, mostly with reputations, and sometimes with their lives. The only net loser is the public.
Colonies that gained independence through a freedom struggle tend to romanticise the prison. From Gandhi to Hasrat Mohani in colonial India; Ahmad Sukarno in Dutch Java, and Nelson Mandela in apartheid South Africa, going to prison came to signify the epitome of their struggle against the occupiers. Serving a jail term continues to be seen as a ‘rite of passage’ for the political activist, more so for the aspiring leader, long after the colonialists’ departure.
Since post-Independence polities continue to suffer from vestiges of colonial systems, and in most places the foreign masters were replaced by either the elite they left behind or the new elite thrown up by cronyism, ‘going to jail’ continues to be seen as ‘coming of age’ for every wannabe politician. Gone may be the days when stalwarts like Mohani served jail terms with hard labour as money buys all sorts of luxuries behind bars, yet a prison term continues to set the ‘men’ apart from the ‘boys’ in the popular imagination. Prime Minister Imran Khan lets no opportunity pass without mentioning that he has been to jail. For all of the doubters, he actually did — for about a week in 2007.
Once behind bars, the political types cry ‘victimisation’ at the hands of rivals, liveried or otherwise. Their prosecution, however, is almost always for corruption and abuse of power as political dissent is not a cognisable offence, at least not yet. This is where things become complex. The justice system is so rotten that hardly anything is proved in a court of law, especially where the influential are concerned. These ‘political prisoners’ wear their incarcerations as medals for ‘upholding democracy’.
A flawed justice system has eroded trust in state institutions.
A dysfunctional justice system erodes citizens’ trust in state institutions. The void is filled by parallel systems, not restricted to jirgas. Attention is diverted from real issues such as poverty, health, education and jobs while politically motivated cases are played out with the media airing images of the handcuffed accused flashing victory signs. The state loses scarce resources either due to trumped-up charges or willy-nilly prosecution, and the courts generally lose whatever little respect the public had for them. The higher an undertrial is placed in the privilege order, the sooner health conditions warranting relocation to a posh hospital emerge. The commando types manage it on their way to court.
While the rich and powerful secure future claims to power for the time spent behind bars albeit on waterbeds in airconditioned rooms, the poor are left to rot in jails, unheard and unseen, convicted for murders they did not commit or the goat they never stole. Worse off are those who spend lifetimes in most horrendous prison conditions without any charges ever being brought against them.
Rani Bibi, a 13-year-old child bride from a Punjab village, was arrested for allegedly killing her husband. In 2001, she was sentenced to life imprisonment. She swept floors and cooked for inmates for almost two decades because the jail warden ‘forgot’ to file her appeal in the high court. Finally, in 2017, Rani was set free by the Lahore High Court for want of evidence.
If you think this is the height of injustice, wait. The system does not just snatch people’s freedoms, it robs them of imagination. When this poor soul got out, guess what she aspired to by way of compensation for the injustice meted to her? A bed, bed linen, a stove, an iron, and yes, a grand ransom from the state — a washing machine. Stunned? Wait, the chairman of the Pakistan Baitul Mal traced the wronged woman, and sent his minions to make up for the horrors she suffered. She was reportedly provided, “a gas cylinder with a burner, two charpoys and bed-sets, blankets, ration, three ladies suits, and two for men”. She also got a cheque for a royal sum of Rs60,000. This comes to approximately Rs3,000 for every year she spent in jail.
Part of the court order that released her from jail read “the court feels helpless in compensating her”. Actually, the superior courts and the legislature can institute judicial reforms, and improve prosecution and investigation. The judiciary should seek a budget to deal with a decades-old backlog of cases instead of asking donations from the public to construct dams. Judicial activism is better exercised within the realm of the provision of justice as sundry causes like sugar and CNG pricing, and operation of malls will find their own knights in shining armour — no allusion whatsoever to Ertugrul.
The writer is a poet and analyst.
Published in Dawn, June 8th, 2020
