By Rana Muhammad Imran*
The true test of a country’s justice system is not how severely it punishes ordinary citizens, but whether it applies the law equally to the powerful and the powerless. When members of a ruling family face the same legal consequences as ordinary people, the principle of equality before the law becomes more than a political slogan.
Saudi Arabia has often been cited in debates about the enforcement of law, religious values and capital punishment. Two cases involving members of its royal family illustrate the debate, although their historical circumstances must be distinguished from broader claims about justice and accountability.
In 1977, Princess Mishaal bint Fahd, a young member of the Saudi royal family, was publicly executed alongside Khalid al-Shaer Muhalhal. Accounts of the case describe a relationship that allegedly violated the social and legal expectations of the time. The case attracted international attention and later became widely known through accounts of the restrictions imposed on women and members of the royal household.
Decades later, another case raised questions about whether royal status could protect an individual from criminal punishment.
In December 2012, Prince Turki bin Saud was involved in a fatal shooting during an altercation at a desert camp near Riyadh. The victim, Adel Al-Muhaimeed, came from an ordinary family. According to accounts of the case, the victim’s relatives were offered blood money, or diyah, and were reportedly approached about granting forgiveness. They nevertheless insisted on qisas, the principle of retributive justice recognised in Islamic law.
Following legal proceedings, Prince Turki was executed on 18 October 2016.
These cases are frequently invoked to support the argument that influence, wealth and family connections should not place anyone beyond the reach of the law. The principle is straightforward: if the law can reach a prince, it must also be capable of protecting an ordinary citizen from injustice.
The Question of Alleged Misconduct in Mecca
This principle has also become relevant to public debate surrounding allegations involving a Bangladeshi couple in Mecca. However, before drawing conclusions, it is essential to establish what actually happened, whether the individuals were legally married, what evidence was presented, and what offences—if any—were established through judicial proceedings.
Claims circulating on social media are not a substitute for verified evidence. The couple’s marital status, the circumstances of their visit, the identity and age of any child associated with the story, and the precise nature of the alleged conduct all require independent confirmation.
The sanctity of Mecca and its mosques is deeply significant to Muslims around the world. Respect for these sacred places is a religious and moral responsibility. Yet the seriousness of an allegation does not eliminate the need for evidence, due process and a proportionate legal response.
If an offence has been committed, the appropriate authorities should investigate it and determine responsibility according to the applicable law. Neither public outrage nor political or ideological loyalty should determine guilt in advance Justice, Religion and Selective Outrage
A broader question concerns the consistency with which people discuss capital punishment and human rights. Saudi Arabia has carried out numerous executions, while Iran and China have also faced extensive international scrutiny over their use of the death penalty. These practices raise difficult questions about state power, criminal justice, human rights and the protection of life.
Critics of capital punishment argue that executions are irreversible and that judicial systems must account for the possibility of wrongful convictions. Supporters, by contrast, contend that the most serious crimes may warrant the harshest penalties under the law. Both positions deserve serious consideration rather than dismissal through political labels.
It is also reasonable to ask whether public commentators apply their principles consistently. If someone condemns severe punishment in one country but remains silent when similar practices occur elsewhere, that inconsistency deserves scrutiny. Equally, those who defend harsh penalties must be prepared to address concerns about fair trials, evidentiary standards and the possibility of miscarriages of justice.
Human rights should not be defended selectively, according to the identity of the accused, the religion of the victims or the political preferences of the observer.
A Lesson for Pakistan
Pakistan, too, must confront the gap between the principles it proclaims and the justice its citizens experience. Crimes against children, abuse of vulnerable people and offences committed in religious institutions demand serious investigation and accountability. Such crimes cannot be excused by blaming supernatural forces, invoking social status or protecting influential individuals.
Religious institutions should be places of safety, not spaces in which offenders can exploit trust or evade scrutiny. Where wrongdoing occurs, victims deserve protection, evidence must be examined, and those found guilty must face lawful consequences.
At the same time, justice cannot mean punishment without safeguards. A credible legal system must protect the innocent as firmly as it holds the guilty accountable. The legitimacy of a verdict depends not simply on the severity of the sentence, but also on the fairness of the process through which it is reached.
The central question, therefore, is not whether a country can demonstrate its authority through public executions. It is whether its laws are applied consistently, whether powerful people are held accountable, and whether ordinary citizens can trust the courts to deliver justice without discrimination.
