India’s Anti-Terror Law and the Punishment of the Unconvicted
The statistics released by the government paint a troubling picture. From 2019 to 2023, India arrested 10,440 individuals using its strictest anti-terror law, but only 335 were convicted. This number didn’t come from a human rights organisation; it was shared by the Union Home Ministry itself during a session in Parliament in December 2025. The National Crime Records Bureau put together these figures, and it amounts to a mere 3.2% conviction rate.
This caught the attention of the Supreme Court. A panel of Justices B.V. Nagarathna and Ujjal Bhuyan highlighted these numbers while granting bail to a man from Jammu and Kashmir who had been in prison for over five years without conviction under the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA). The court noted that nationwide, the conviction rates range from 2% to 6%, suggesting that an astounding 94% to 98% of cases end in acquittal. In Jammu and Kashmir, the conviction rate drops below 1%.
This discussion about the UAPA needs to start with a stark reality: while it is intended to prevent terrorism, in practice, it leads to long sentences for many individuals without proving that they actually did anything wrong.
Understanding the Flaws
The UAPA operates quite differently from standard criminal law. In typical situations, bail is the norm, and incarceration is the exception. However, under Section 43D(5) of the UAPA, a court cannot grant bail if it believes the accusations are ‘prima facie true.’ This phrase is vague and has been used by courts to deny bail for extended periods. It’s important to note that the accused do not need to be proven guilty; they merely have to be plausibly accused. Given that the agencies responsible for investigations write the charges, this distinction quickly becomes blurred.
What results from this is a system where being arrested effectively becomes a form of punishment. By the time the court clears someone of wrongdoing — a fate that a majority of those arrested seem to enjoy — they may have already spent years behind bars. A tragic case highlights this: Stan Swamy, an 83-year-old priest and activist, died in custody in July 2021 while awaiting bail. Despite suffering from Parkinson’s disease, he was never charged or convicted, yet he spent time in jail before his death.
Another individual, Umar Khalid, a former student leader at JNU, was arrested in 2020 in connection with violence in northeast Delhi. He spent over four years in jail before the Supreme Court granted him bail in 2024. Then there’s Prabir Purkayastha, the NewsClick founder, who faced a similar fate after being arrested in late 2023, and is currently out on Bail. Regardless of the reasons behind their arrests, a common pattern emerges: UAPA is frequently used, bail requests are denied, and years slip by before people are eventually released.
New Laws, Same Problems
In 2022, the Supreme Court suspended the archaic sedition law while the government re-evaluated it. Two years later, the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023 replaced the Indian Penal Code, and the old sedition law was substituted with a new provision that penalises acts threatening India’s sovereignty, unity, and integrity with sentences ranging from seven years to life. Amnesty International has pointed out that this new law could easily lead to violations of rights, suggesting that sedition, in essence, has returned with new wording.
Between July 2024 and November 2025, over 51.32 lakh cases were registered under BNS across India, with Uttar Pradesh alone reporting 6.79 lakh cases. This surge coincides with the reinstatement of sedition-like provisions.
The government argues that such provisions focus on genuine threats to national security, a claim that deserves consideration, particularly given the real challenges faced in regions like Kashmir and parts of the northeast
. UAPA didn’t come out of thin air. Yet, the law’s use and the government’s own conviction statistics reveal a disconnect with this security justification. A law that sees acquittals in 94-98% of cases, while being applied more frequently, is raising questions about its effectiveness as a counter-terrorism tool.
Uneven Application of the Law
Looking at the parliamentary data, it’s clear that the UAPA is not applied uniformly. A significant portion of arrests—3,662 out of the total—came from Jammu and Kashmir, which makes up more than a third of the overall arrests, but only 23 convictions resulted from those. Uttar Pradesh follows with 2,805 arrests, and while it has the highest number of convictions at 222, it still means that only a tiny minority of cases lead to convictions.
There’s also an unsettling trend in who gets arrested. Journalists like Siddique Kappan were detained while trying to report on sensitive issues, such as the Hathras gang-rape case. Khurram Parvez, a human rights defender from Kashmir, spent years behind bars. Activists like Nodeep Kaur, associated with farmers’ protests, have faced the same fate. The common thread binding them isn’t terrorism; it’s that they stood up against something, whether it was a corporation, policy, or government action leading to the misuse of this law against them.
This is a complex argument because it requires us to differentiate between true threats to national security—which exist—and the way the same law is wielded against journalists, students, tribal activists, and labour organisers. Making that distinction is vital. We can’t judge a law just by its intended goals; we must evaluate what it actually accomplishes, who suffers because of it, and with what results.
The facts from the government make it abundantly clear: 10,440 arrests, and just 335 convictions. Thousands of individuals are held in jail, often for years, because the courts determined there wasn’t enough evidence to convict. The Supreme Court has highlighted these issues. Amnesty International has documented these practices. Now, Parliament has access to these numbers.
What happens next is a matter of political will. Progressive movements must demand: immediate repeal of UAPA, repeal of BNS Section 150, release of all political prisoners, and judicial oversight on anti-terror arrests. The data is clear. The law is broken. Now we must fix it.