Singapore’s Changi Prison witnessed another controversial execution on the morning of October 8, 2025, as Malaysian national Pannir Selvam Pranthaman was hanged for drug trafficking. The 38-year-old became the twelfth person executed in Singapore this year, a figure that has already surpassed last year’s total, and the fourth Malaysian to meet this fate in 2025. The latest execution has reignited debate both locally and internationally over the city-state’s unwavering stance on the death penalty for drug offenses.
Pannir Selvam’s journey to the gallows began in 2014, when he was arrested for importing 52 grams (about 1.8 ounces) of heroin—also known as diamorphine—into Singapore. According to Associated Press and South China Morning Post, his conviction was handed down by the High Court on May 2, 2017, triggering the mandatory death penalty under Singapore’s Misuse of Drugs Act. The law prescribes capital punishment for anyone caught with more than 15 grams of heroin or 500 grams of cannabis, making Singapore one of the strictest countries in the world for drug-related crimes.
Despite multiple legal attempts to avoid execution, Pannir’s fate was ultimately sealed by a series of failed appeals and denied clemency. His appeal to Singapore’s Court of Appeal was dismissed on February 9, 2018, and his petition for presidential clemency was also rejected. In a final twist, Pannir was granted stays of execution on two separate occasions, including an eleventh-hour reprieve in February 2025 due to pending legal matters. However, these temporary stays only delayed the inevitable.
In late September 2025, Malaysian police interviewed Pannir after his lawyers argued he had provided information about the individuals who handed him the drugs. This development sparked a glimmer of hope among his family and supporters that another stay might be granted for further investigation. Yet, as reported by Associated Press, Malaysia’s home ministry concluded that Pannir had not provided any new leads, and Singapore proceeded with the execution after his final appeal was rejected and presidential clemency denied.
The case has drawn the ire of human rights advocates and anti-death penalty activists, both in Singapore and abroad. Kirsten Han, a prominent Singaporean activist who accompanied Pannir’s family, confirmed the execution and noted that his relatives had collected his belongings from Changi Prison. Han and others argue that Singapore’s harsh drug laws disproportionately affect low-level traffickers and couriers rather than the masterminds behind international drug syndicates.
Amnesty International’s death penalty adviser, Chiara Sangiorgio, condemned the execution in a statement, saying, “It is indefensible that Singapore continues to cruelly pursue more executions in the name of drug control. Yet there is no evidence that the death penalty has a unique deterrent effect or that it has any impact on the use and availability of drugs.”
Singapore’s government, for its part, remains steadfast in defending its policies, arguing that strict penalties are necessary to protect public safety and deter drug trafficking. Officials point to the city-state’s low crime rates and relative absence of large-scale drug problems as evidence that their approach works. However, critics counter that the law’s mandatory nature leaves little room for judicial discretion or consideration of mitigating circumstances.
Pannir’s case underscores the complexities and human costs of Singapore’s approach. The court found that he was merely a courier, transporting drugs rather than orchestrating their distribution. Pannir himself maintained throughout the process that he did not know he was carrying drugs. Under Singaporean law, however, such claims are often difficult to prove, and the burden of proof is high. Prosecutors also refused to issue a certificate of substantive assistance—a document that could have spared his life by affirming that he had helped authorities in their investigations. Without this certificate, the court was compelled to impose the death penalty.
Pannir’s personal story added a poignant dimension to the case. The third of six children, he was the son of a church pastor and worked as a lorry driver to support his family, according to activists cited by Associated Press. He had a passion for music, playing in a church band during his youth. During his years on death row, Pannir wrote letters, songs, and poems reflecting on the anguish of his predicament and his hopes for a second chance. Some of his songs have since been performed by Malaysian singers, offering a glimpse into the emotional toll of his ordeal on both himself and his loved ones.
The execution of Pannir Selvam Pranthaman marks the second time in as many weeks that a Malaysian national has been executed for drug offenses in Singapore. Just two weeks prior, Datchinamurthy Kataiah, another Malaysian, was also hanged. The recent uptick in executions has alarmed human rights groups, especially given that more than 40 people remain on death row in Singapore as of October 2025, most for drug-related crimes.
Singapore’s approach stands in stark contrast to neighboring Malaysia, which has moved in recent years to ease its own mandatory death penalty provisions for certain offenses, including drug trafficking. This divergence has fueled cross-border activism and diplomatic appeals, though Singapore’s leadership has so far been unmoved by external pressure.
Supporters of Singapore’s policies argue that the country’s tough stance deters would-be traffickers and keeps drugs off the streets, contributing to its reputation as one of the safest cities in the world. They contend that relaxing these laws would embolden criminal networks and undermine public safety. On the other hand, critics—both local and international—insist that the death penalty is an inhumane and ineffective tool that fails to address the root causes of drug trafficking and addiction.
For families like Pannir’s, these debates are far from abstract. The pain of losing a loved one to the gallows is compounded by the sense that the system offers little mercy or flexibility. As activists continue to call for reform, the city-state’s government faces mounting questions about whether its approach truly serves justice—or merely perpetuates suffering among society’s most vulnerable.
With the number of executions rising and the international spotlight growing ever brighter, Singapore’s capital punishment policy remains a flashpoint for controversy. The fate of those still on death row hangs in the balance, and the debate over the death penalty’s place in modern society shows no sign of abating.
