The Supreme Court silently passed a judgment on 8 October that has the potential to mark a turning point in Pakistan’s criminal justice system. In the case of Anwar Keneth v. The State, the death sentence of a Christian man who spent over twenty years in a death cell was overturned by a three-member bench. The appellant had been convicted of writing allegedly blasphemous letters under Section 295-C of the Pakistan Penal Code and was later found to be a patient suffering from Bipolar Affective Disorder. The Court held that the prosecution had failed to prove criminal intent beyond a reasonable doubt, granting him the benefit of the doubt and acquitting him. The decision unveils a deeper story about how Pakistan handles issues of mental illness, fair trial, and the most severe criminal charges on its books.
At the time of the offence in 2001, Anwar Keneth was experiencing hypomanic phases characterised by grandiose delusions and auditory hallucinations. He believed he had been chosen by God, destined to become the King of Israel, and claimed to receive direct revelations from Jesus Christ. None of this was properly examined during the investigation or trial. No psychiatric evaluation was ordered. The trial court relied on a guilty plea and superficial proceedings to impose the death penalty, which the Lahore High Court later confirmed. It was only after the Supreme Court’s intervention that a medical board from the Punjab Institute of Mental Health conducted a thorough assessment, revealing a long-untreated mental disorder that likely existed at the time of the alleged offence.
This is not just a tragic individual case. It exposes systemic fault lines in how capital prosecutions, especially under blasphemy laws, are conducted in Pakistan. Criminal law requires both a physical act (actus reus) and a guilty mind (mens rea). When mental illness renders a person incapable of understanding the nature or consequences of their actions, the entire moral basis for punishment collapses. The Court correctly focused on mens rea, recognising that delusional religious statements cannot be equated with intentional provocation. By applying the doctrine of the benefit of the doubt to mental incapacity, the Court reaffirmed a basic but often neglected principle: capital punishment cannot stand on evidentiary shortcuts and prosecutorial neglect.
Justice delayed may have spared one life this time, but the deeper structural issues remain
The case also raises serious constitutional concerns. Article 10A of Pakistan’s Constitution guarantees the right to a fair trial, a right that is meaningless if the accused is mentally ill and no steps are taken to assess their capacity to stand trial. The failure to investigate his mental condition violated due process at every stage. Article 9, which protects the right to life and liberty, was undermined by keeping a mentally ill man in a death cell for twenty-three years without adequate treatment. And Article 20, guaranteeing the freedom to profess and propagate one’s religion, lurks in the background. The appellant’s letters mixed his Christian beliefs with delusional ideas, challenging Islamic beliefs in the process. The Court cited the Council of Islamic Ideology’s report to clarify that all religious communities have a constitutional right to propagate their faith within legal limits. In this case, the appellant’s words reflected mental disorder rather than criminal intent.
From a human rights perspective, the decision builds on the Court’s 2021 ruling in Safia Bano, which held that executing mentally ill prisoners violates constitutional guarantees and ordered protocols for psychiatric evaluations of death-row inmates. In Anwar Keneth’s case, these principles were applied not merely to postpone execution but to question the validity of the conviction itself. This shift is critical. International law, including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, prohibits executing individuals who are insane or lack criminal responsibility. The Supreme Court’s reasoning brings Pakistan closer to these obligations, even if indirectly.
Another significant aspect of the judgment is its implicit acknowledgement of the inhumanity of long-term detention on death row, particularly when the detainee is mentally ill. Being held in solitary death cells, untreated, is inhuman by any standard—especially over a period exceeding two decades. Although the term “death row phenomenon” is not explicitly used in the judgment, the conclusion aligns with global human rights jurisprudence, which regards such prolonged detention as cruel and degrading treatment. The Court’s order for continued medical care upon release is a minor yet important step towards recognising the right to health and dignity as part of the right to life.
Yet, while this judgment is commendable, it also highlights how late justice often arrives in Pakistan. The prosecutorial lapses were glaring: key witnesses never testified, the letter was never properly proven, and the entire case rested on the uncritical acceptance of a mentally ill man’s words as evidence of blasphemy. This is not an isolated occurrence. Many blasphemy cases rely on weak evidence, community pressure, and procedural shortcuts. When combined with the irreversible nature of capital punishment, the risk of wrongful conviction becomes intolerably high.
The Supreme Court’s decision should serve as more than a correction in one case; it should be a wake-up call. Mental health evaluations must become standard practice at the investigation and trial stages, particularly in capital cases. Prosecutors and judges require training to recognise signs of mental illness. The bar for proving mens rea in blasphemy cases must be enforced rigorously, not nominally. And above all, the state must re-examine the human cost of maintaining a mandatory death penalty regime under Section 295-C, a provision that leaves no room for judicial discretion, even when mental incapacity is later established.
Justice delayed may have spared one life this time, but the deeper structural issues remain. If Pakistan is serious about upholding its Constitution and human rights commitments, it must ensure that no one else endures what Anwar Keneth did: two decades of untreated illness, procedural neglect, and the looming shadow of the gallows. The Supreme Court has shown the way. The rest of the justice system must follow.