I’ve often felt that discussions on systematic change in our country are relatively fruitless. Applying theories like retribution and utilitarianism to a pre-existing problem in the hopes of finding a miraculous solution that hasn’t been found in decades, sitting in a classroom, feels utopian.

However, that doesn’t stop me from raising my hand in my criminal law class to answer a question when the professor writes ‘JUSTICE’ with chalk on a dusty whiteboard.

The topic of discussion that day was prison reform. We were debating whether punishment, as a concept, should be abolished completely and replaced with more proactive efforts towards rehabilitation. A lengthy discussion eventually led us to the conclusion that some crimes may warrant greater punishment, while others could be dealt with differently or less severely.

Then one of my classmates raised his hand and told us about Hyderabad’s prison conditions, and the entire debate on punishment versus rehabilitation went down the drain, along with our lingering belief in the justice system.

The problem with prison reform is that it is easy to discuss in a classroom. It is harder to understand when the subject stops being a theory and becomes a cell, a person and a family waiting outside a prison gate.

Hyderabad Central Jail is a major correctional facility on the National Highway in Hyderabad, Sindh, Pakistan. In 2022, it was reported that it was holding more than 2,300 inmates against a capacity of 1,500. At the time, Sindh’s 26 operational prisons were holding more than 23,500 prisoners against a total capacity of 13,500.

The numbers have not become much easier to digest since then. In 2024, Pakistan’s prisons held 102,026 people in facilities designed for 65,811, according to the National Commission for Human Rights, the National........

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