It is sadly not unusual to see offences relating to religion, or the so-called “blasphemy” laws, mentioned in Pakistan’s national news. Contained in the Pakistan Penal Code, accusations of these criminal laws have been on the rise in recent years and it is widely acknowledged how they are misused to settle personal disputes. But a recent case was unusual, insofar as it has led to contemporary parallels being drawn between the offences in Pakistan and the offences in India.
One of the innumerable legacies from British colonial rule in South Asia is criminal law. The Penal Code, first designed and implemented by the British in pre-Partition India in 1860 and later in Ceylon, remains in force in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka today. In the case of India and Bangladesh, the same five offences remain, whereas some offences have been added to Pakistan’s and Sri Lanka’s penal codes.
In March of this year, a YouTuber in Pakistan named Rajab Butt was booked under one of the offences relating to religion after releasing a video launching a perfume named after one of these offences: “295.” Butt was reported by leaders of the Tehreek-i-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP), a religious political party previously banned as a terrorist organisation, whose members are often held responsible for a significant number of accusations of offences relating to religion and anti-religious minority violence. Section 295-A, under which Butt was charged, criminalises acts which are intended to outrage the religious feelings of a particular class.
The reason why parallels between Pakistan and India have been drawn in this case is because Butt allegedly referred to the Indian rapper, Sidhu Moose Wala, as his “mentor” in the video. Sidhu was assassinated in 2022, leaving a notable legacy on Indian music despite his short career after he addressed significant social issues in his lyrics. In 2021, Sidhu released one such song, also called “295,” which discusses the controversy around accusations of this offence and implications for freedom of speech. Fans were quick to note the eerie coincidence between the name of the song (“295”) and the date on which he was killed (29/5).
Given how history unites Pakistan and India, the shared significance of these offences more broadly must be noted. First, these offences highlight how colonial laws continue to shape perceptions of intra- and inter-religious animosity in both countries. That is, certain actions are illegal on the basis of how they affect the religious feelings of others. To complicate matters further, people have misused accusations of these offences to settle personal disputes in the name of hurt religious feelings. In the case of Pakistan, the new offences relating to religion added in the 1980s do not necessitate intent as a prerequisite for the crime, which makes their misuse even simpler.
British parliamentary research briefings have acknowledged the issue of “blasphemy” laws and accusations in Commonwealth countries, particularly in the context of freedom of religion and human rights issues, even noting how some of these laws are British colonial constructs. But what such briefings omit is how the penal code served the colonial agenda, which made distinctions between the colonisers and colonised. The colonised, indigenous people and their sources of law were viewed as backward and inherently emotional by the colonial administration, hence the desire for new laws to regulate behaviour perceived to be governed by emotion. In light of their misuse, these offences remain harmfully divisive.
A further point of comparison between these offences in Pakistan and India is how they fit within broader patterns of intra- and inter-religious animosity and violence. As mentioned, the TLP is one of the most significant actors behind such accusations and associated violence in Pakistan. Its members have weaponised accusations to spearhead anti-minority sentiment, violence and legal action, particularly of offences added under Zia-ul-Haq from 1980 to 1986, which criminalise Ahmadis ‘posing’ as Muslims, defilement of the Qur’an and insults against Islamic figures, especially the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). Religious minorities, especially Shia Muslims, Ahmadis and Christians, are disproportionately accused of these offences and are subjected to violence and discrimination. This has been enabled by politicians, the judiciary and law enforcement over the years, both through inaction and explicit support, thereby further narrowing the space for religious freedom following the Zia regime’s exclusivist definition of what it means to be a Pakistani and a Pakistani Muslim.
In the case of India, Narendra Modi has been the prime minister of the country since 2014. His political party, the Bharat Janata Party (BJP), is held responsible for increased anti-Muslim sentiment in the country throughout his three terms, wherein Muslims are characterised as invaders and terrorists. This is not new, but a characteristic of the Hindutva ideology that existed before India’s independence. As noted by Sanya Dhingra, the BJP favours a decolonisation of India to dismantle Muslim legacies as much as the British ones, by demolishing mosques believed to be on Hindu grounds, removing Mughal history from school textbooks, replacing Muslim-sounding city names and celebrating anti-Muslim sentiment and figures in the media. Human rights organisations have also warned about ethnic violence in India and discriminatory policies against Christians as well as Muslims and other religious minorities.
Despite these parallels, it is also important to understand the differences between offences relating to religion in Pakistan and in India. Firstly, while the five offences added under the British colonial administration remain the only offences relating to religion in the Indian Penal Code, five new offences relating to religion were added to the Pakistan Penal Code under Zia. Unlike the colonial-era offences, these only protect Muslim religious feelings, symbols and epithets, rather than those of all religions. One of these offences, section 295-C, carries the death sentence, while none of the offences in India do. Secondly, human rights organisations and academics tend to pay more attention to offences relating to religion in the context of Pakistan than in India.
The number of alleged offences relating to religion in Pakistan has risen sharply in recent years. According to the Center for Social Justice in Pakistan, there were 1,855 people charged with offences relating to religion between 1987 and 2021, with 2020 having the highest number of accusations. However, Pakistan’s National Commission for Human Rights has reported that, while there were 11 such incarcerations in 2020, there were 767 by mid-2024 after nearly 300 people were incarcerated between February and July 2024. No one has been put to death for transgressing section 295-C, though this year has already seen multiple cases in Rawalpindi alone where men have received the death penalty.
Sadly, it is difficult to find trustworthy crime statistics using the same measures between Pakistan and India, but India’s National Crime Records Bureau has released some relevant data. In its report covering the year 2022, the most recent data available, there were 1,872 cases registered for offences relating to religion, which marked an increase from 1,475 in the previous year but constituted just 0.1% percentage share of Indian Penal Code crimes. The number of cases convicted was 110 in 2022, which is not an insignificant number.
These brief points by no means capture the full context in which offences relating to religion in Pakistan and India must be set, but they hopefully help to illustrate similarities and differences between the two countries.
