Faceless Courts: The Absence of Justice

“When the protection of those who deliver justice risks weakening the justice they are meant to deliver.”

Imagine standing before a court that has the power to decide your fate, yet the process through which that decision is made remains beyond your reach. You know that a judgment will determine your future, but the institutions behind that judgment seem distant, inaccessible and, at times, almost invisible.

A court is not merely a room in which a judge sits and an order is pronounced. Justice depends upon something deeper: transparency, accountability, the right to be heard, the ability to challenge evidence, access to counsel, and a meaningful opportunity to question the process that may ultimately determine a person’s liberty, dignity or life. When these elements begin to disappear behind layers of secrecy, justice risks becoming faceless.

The danger of a faceless justice system is not limited to the question of whether a decision is legally correct. It concerns whether the person affected by that decision can understand, participate in and meaningfully challenge the process that produced it. A judgment may carry the authority of law, but authority alone cannot substitute for fairness.

Pakistan’s Constitution does not treat fair trial as a privilege reserved for circumstances. Article 10A guarantees the right to a fair trial and due process. Article 9 protects life and liberty according to law, while Article 14 recognizes the inviolability of human dignity. These guarantees are not decorative promises. They represent the minimum conditions under which the State may exercise its coercive power over an individual. Yet the distance between constitutional guarantees and their practical experience remains a serious concern.

For an ordinary person, justice can already be difficult to reach. Proceedings may be delayed, legal representation may be unaffordable, institutions may be intimidating, and the language and procedures of the law can make an individual feel like a stranger within the very system created to protect their rights. When transparency is further reduced, that distance becomes even greater. The issue, therefore, is not simply whether a court exists. It is whether justice can still be seen, questioned and trusted.

This question has become particularly relevant with the Anti-Terrorism (Punjab Amendment) Bill 2026. The proposed amendment introduces Section 21AAA into the Anti-Terrorism Act, 1997, creating a category of “special security cases” where judges, prosecutors, police officers, witnesses, defense counsel and others involved in the proceedings are considered to require extraordinary protection. The reason behind such a provision is understandable. Terrorism cases can place extraordinary pressure on the justice system. Judges may face threats because of their decisions, witnesses may be intimidated, and prosecutors, investigators and lawyers can also become targets. The State has a legitimate responsibility to protect everyone involved. Justice cannot function properly when those administering it are themselves living under serious threats to their safety. The difficulty lies in deciding how that protection should be achieved without weakening the safeguards of a trial.

Under the proposed Section 21AAA, the identities of judges, prosecutors, police officers, witnesses, defense counsel and other persons connected with a special security case may be withheld. Orders can be signed without revealing the personal identities of those issuing them, while witnesses may be identified through specific identities. The Bill also provides that the names of judges and public prosecutors selected for such cases would not be published in the official Gazette and that the relevant record would be kept sealed.

For witnesses facing genuine threats, some form of anonymity may be necessary. There is a clear difference, however, between protecting a witness from retaliation and concealing the identity of the person exercising judicial power. A judge is not merely another participant in a trial. The judge determines questions of evidence, procedure and ultimately the guilt or innocence of the accused. The identity of that decision-maker can therefore have a direct connection with questions of independence, impartiality and possible conflict of interest. The same principle applies, in a different way, to prosecutors and defense counsel. The accused must know who is representing the State and who is responsible for defending his or her interests. A fair trial is not achieved simply by placing a lawyer before an accused person. The relationship between the accused and counsel must also remain meaningful and capable of being trusted.

This is where Article 10A becomes central. The right to a fair trial does not disappear because a case concerns terrorism. Security concerns may justify special procedures, but those procedures must still preserve the basic ability of an accused person to understand the case, challenge the evidence and receive an effective defence. The proposed use of technology is therefore not, by itself, problematic. Video conferencing, audio and video recording, and voice modification can help protect participants and allow proceedings to continue where ordinary arrangements may expose people to danger. The Bill even allows proceedings to be conducted virtually from prison where security or logistical difficulties make this necessary. Such measures can be useful if they are used to strengthen the administration of justice rather than to replace its safeguards.

Another concern is the treatment of the judicial record. The Bill provides for the complete record of a special security case to be sealed and retained by the Chief Justice of the Lahore High Court and the designated authority. Confidentiality may be justified where sensitive information is involved, but the integrity of the appellate process must remain protected. An appeal is meaningful only when the higher court has sufficient access to the proceedings and material necessary to determine whether the trial was conducted according to law.

There is also an important institutional question regarding the designated authority. The Bill provides for a government-nominated officer, not below BS-20 or equivalent, who can determine whether a case or even a class of cases should be treated as a special security case. The authority can also coordinate implementation and issue directions necessary to give effect to the provision.

Security is naturally an executive responsibility. But the conduct of judicial proceedings is fundamentally a judicial function. When an executive-nominated authority is given a significant role in determining which cases enter this special framework, questions of institutional balance inevitably arise. The protection of judicial independence requires that security arrangements support the courts without becoming a means of influencing how judicial power is exercised.

The provision’s application to a “class of cases” also deserves careful consideration. Extraordinary measures may be easier to justify when there is a clearly identified and serious threat in a particular case. Applying them to a wider category could, however, turn what was intended as an exceptional response into a regular feature of terrorism proceedings. The Bill’s overriding clause makes these questions even more important. Section 21AAA is intended to operate notwithstanding anything inconsistent in the Anti-Terrorism Act or the Code. A provision with such broad effect should be accompanied by equally strong safeguards to ensure that security does not come at the cost of constitutional protections.

None of this means that the State should ignore the dangers faced by those working in terrorism trials. Judges deserve protection. Witnesses deserve protection. Prosecutors, investigators and lawyers deserve protection. The challenge is to build a system in which people can be kept safe without compromising the principles that give judicial decisions their legitimacy. There can be a middle ground. Identities can be protected where a genuine and specific threat exists. Secure courtrooms and virtual hearings can be used where necessary. Sensitive material can be handled confidentially while ensuring that appellate courts retain full access to the record. Most importantly, exceptional procedures should remain exceptional, based on clear reasons and subject to meaningful judicial oversight.

A justice system cannot demand public trust merely because its decisions carry the force of law. Trust comes from a process that is fair, accountable and capable of being examined. The real question surrounding faceless courts, therefore, is not whether security is important. It undoubtedly is. The question is how much of the judicial process can be altered in the name of security before the safeguards of a fair trial begin to disappear. A scourt may need extraordinary protection in an extraordinary case. But the protection of those inside the courtroom should never come at the expense of the principles that make the courtroom worthy of trust.

Justice must be done. It must remain capable of being understood, scrutinized and trusted. A “justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done”