In a country whose leadership markets itself with the language of “reform and openness,” yet fills its prisons with voices of dissent, a new sentence against human rights activist Mohammed Al-Bajadi has exposed the stark contradiction between rhetoric and reality.
After completing his previous prison term, the Specialized Criminal Court in Riyadh has now reset the clock — sentencing him to another 25 years in prison, not for a crime, but for daring to defend the most basic human rights in a state that cannot tolerate the very word “rights.”
This ruling is not merely a judicial violation — it is a political statement delivered through an extended prison term, confirming that the Saudi justice system has not been reformed, but rather redesigned to serve power, not the law.
From Founder of “HASM” to a Life Prisoner
Al-Bajadi is one of the founding members of the Saudi Civil and Political Rights Association (HASM), an organization banned by the government in 2013. He belongs to the first generation of activists who attempted to introduce basic conversations around citizenship and rights in the Kingdom — and he paid the price: repeated arrests, torture, and solitary confinement.
In 2018, as part of a widespread crackdown that targeted women’s rights defenders and civic activists, authorities arrested him again and issued a 10-year sentence, half of it suspended. Although he should have walked free in April 2023, prison gates never opened — and his punishment has now been replaced with another, far longer and harsher one.
In simple terms: Al-Bajadi was not punished for a crime, but because he refused to abandon his belief in justice.
A Judiciary as a Stage, and Revenge as the Script
The verdict against Al-Bajadi is not an anomaly — it is another episode in an established system where the judiciary functions as a political instrument of retaliation.
The Specialized Criminal Court, originally created to prosecute terrorism cases, has been transformed into a platform to silence independent voices — from reformists to bloggers, academics, and activists.
ALQST for Human Rights described the ruling as “a crushing blow to what remains of the Saudi judiciary’s credibility,” stressing that re-sentencing Al-Bajadi after he completed his term is “a consolidation of systematic repression.”
Yahya Assiri, founder of ALQST, stated clearly:
“Mohammed Al-Bajadi was never a threat to anyone — his only ‘threat’ was reminding the state of its obligations toward its people.”
The message is unmistakable: whoever demands reform will hear the echo of their voice from behind bars.
The United Nations: A Pattern, Not an Incident
Al-Bajadi’s case has been repeatedly raised in UN reports. In April 2025, UN Special Rapporteur Mary Lawlor condemned Saudi Arabia directly, stating that:
“Authorities continue to detain activists even after completing their sentences, in blatant violation of international law.”
Al-Bajadi embodies this pattern — the prisoner whose sentence never ends.
Saudi law itself technically prohibits retrial for the same charges, but in a system devoid of transparency, accusations are recycled and cases are reset — injustice on repeat.
“Humanitarian Releases” vs. Collective Punishment
While the Saudi government publicly advertises select prisoner releases as “humanitarian gestures,” reality tells a different story.
Those who are released face travel bans, digital surveillance, public silencing, and civil death.
And many others — including Waleed Abu Al-Khair, Issa Al-Hamed, Mohammed Al-Otaibi, Israa Al-Ghomgham, Nouf Al-Qahtani, and Manahel Al-Otaibi — remain behind bars with sentences ranging from 5 to 35 years.
Even those “freed” live in a slightly larger cage than the one they left — unable to work, travel, or speak. This is not liberation. It is the release of silence, not the release of prisoners.
Repression Expands, Executions Multiply
This new sentence comes at a time when Saudi Arabia is recording the highest execution rate in its modern history — 314 executions by the end of October 2025, including prisoners of conscience and individuals convicted of non-violent charges.
Human rights organizations warn that the country is not reforming its justice system — it is weaponizing it.
Duality of the Regime: Open to Cameras, Closed to Voices
At the same time that Riyadh hosts global summits on investment, artificial intelligence, and women’s sports, it cages anyone who spoke about the most basic human rights.
Media studios open their doors for glossy Vision 2030 documentaries, while prison cells close on those who dared say that reform begins with dignity and justice.
It is the defining Saudi paradox:
A regime polishing its image abroad — while shattering every mirror at home.
Mohammed Al-Bajadi’s case is not an isolated tragedy, it is a mirror reflecting the reality of Saudi justice today: courts without independence, sentences without law, prisons without end, reform without people, and a vision built without human beings. When defending human rights becomes a crime and silence becomes the only guarantee for survival, the state has already lost its moral compass. Al-Bajadi is not a prisoner of law — he is a prisoner of truth in a kingdom that fears truth more than it fears injustice itself.
