The Supreme Court of India has No Spine

On February 26, 2026, the Supreme Court of India banned a school book.

Quite literally, it was a civics textbook written for fourteen-year-olds with a chapter titled “The Role of the Judiciary in Our Society.” Among other positive aspects of the judiciary, it discussed judicial backlog and corruption. It cited data. But the Court has responded with a complete ban: seizure of physical copies, removal of digital versions, which one can access here, and prohibition on publication “through electronic media or alternative titles.”

Chief Justice Surya Kant described it as a “deep-rooted, well-orchestrated conspiracy” to malign the Judiciary where “they fired a gunshot, judiciary is bleeding today.” Supposedly, a schoolbook is enough to make the judiciary bleed.

If the institution is so fragile that a book chapter can injure it, then the actual health of this institution is in dire conditions. This is truly a watershed moment because the Judiciary, for the second time in Indian history, decided that its institutional comfort mattered more than our constitutional rights.

But first, I will talk about the legality of this Order as measured against the Constitution and contempt laws. But I really want to talk about the institutional dishonesty and cowardice being shown: the wholesale misrepresentation of what the chapter actually says by the Court; the language the Chief Justice has used; the role of the Bar in triggering this whole episode; and how representative institutions are kowtowing and falling in line without a word of resistance.

Supreme Court cannot ban a Book or blacklist a Person

Let’s see the legality of this order. It is important to note that the Supreme Court has not invoked contempt proceedings. They have not pointed to a specific defamatory falsehood and require its correction. It issued, from its own bench, a blanket order completely banning a textbook chapter. Such suppression and prior restraint the Court itself has ruled unconstitutional multiple times.

However, talking from first principles, Article 19(2) of the Constitution permits restrictions on speech only through a “law” made by the “State.” Courts have long established that judicial decisions do not constitute “law” for the purposes of Article 19, and that the judiciary does not constitute “State” for the purposes of Part III violations. The logical conclusion from this is that the judiciary, in all its might, does not have the power to directly restrict speech.

When the Court engages in this unique form of judicial censorship, it bypasses the Parliament and the representative government completely. As Gautam Bhatia has pointed out, such actions ensures “that the deliberative process envisaged by the Constitution when it requires the State to ‘make a law’ under Article 19(2) is rendered chimerical.” The Supreme Court only has power of judicial review. But, they have now inserted themselves into both roles simultaneously: it is restricting speech as if it’s the Parliament and reviewing that restriction too.

This is just judicial power-brokering where they have turned the machinery made to protect the rights of the citizen to protect their own reputation.

The Court has also previously cautioned that even temporary digital restrictions can have far-reaching chilling effects on speech. But clearly this does not apply to the Court it seems. Last year, the very same Court said that free-speech should be measured by the “standards of reasonable, strong-minded, firm and courageous men, and not those of weak and vacillating minds, nor of those who scent danger in every hostile point of view.” They have failed their own test in a spectacular fashion. It is honestly so puzzling how forgetful and hypocritical this Court is when the spotlight of critical examination is shone at them.

But, on March 11, the Court passed another order which went from banning a book to banning authors of the book. The three authors (Prof. Michel Danino, Suparna Diwakar, and Alok Prasanna Kumar) were barred by judicial order from all work associated with any publicly funded curriculum.

The Court said that it had “no reason to doubt” they had “deliberately knowingly misrepresented the facts.” This was said even before their response was filed. The punishment was delivered and the invitation to respond came after.

Bhatia has named this Order for what it is: a judicial bill of attainder. During the medieval era in England, the legislature sometimes assumed judicial powers and passed laws known as bills of attainder. These laws declared individuals or groups guilty of misconduct or crimes and imposed punishment without a trial.

When the U.S. broke away from England, bills of attainder were abolished under Article I, Section 9 of the Constitution. This stopped the practice of “trial by legislature,” and furthered the separation of powers. James Madison simply explained the need for their abolition in Federalist Paper No. 44. He said that these “Bills of attainder… are contrary to the first principles of the social compact,” because modern society agreed that punishment should follow the rule of law. Similar ex-post actions has been held unconstitutional by this very Court.

What the Supreme Court has now done is take the form of the bill of attainder and clothe it in judicial power. They are punishing by decree, without explicit statutory charges being mentioned, without any law, and without a hearing.

As a measure of caution, the order does invite the three authors to “approach this court for seeking modification after tendering their response.” But, this is against the Article 21 of the Constitution and procedural guarantees therein. It delivers the punishment first, then invites the individual to explain why they should not be punished. As Bhatia points out, “if a government department fired an employee and then issued a show-cause notice, the Supreme Court would strike it down for violating administrative law.” Then how can the Court do the same?

It is genuinely sad that these three authors who wrote that “the Supreme Court is the watchdog of democracy” and that citizens must have “confidence” that the judiciary will protect their rights, now have been punished by the very institution they had praised.

Who Needs Laws? Magic Court Powers are Enough

The question of contempt powers needs to be examined especially because that power is not being invoked by the Court in this case. This is very odd.

Under the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971, Section 2(c) defines criminal contempt as any act that “scandalises, or tends to scandalise, or lowers or tends to lower the authority of any court.” This definition is undoubtedly capacious. The word “tends” does not require actual interference with justice, even the possibility of it is enough. Section 5 provides a defense for “fair criticism” of a finally decided case, and the 2006 amendment allows truth as a defense if the person can show they were acting in the public interest. But the test is left to the court itself to determine whether the criticism was “fair.”

It is an odd system where the Court which has been “scandalized” is the judge in its own cause going against the principles of natural justice. It also has clear chilling effects on freedom of speech and expression. And precisely this was the reason as to why the United Kingdom, United States and many other modern democracies have deemed that such laws are unnecessary, except for India.

But there are those who say that without such laws, the judiciary will lose its reputation. Justice H.R. Khanna, the one judge who had the spine to dissent during the Emergency, answered this directly: “Contempt of court should not be used as a means to uphold our own dignity. This must rely on surer foundation… We must rely on our conduct itself to be its own vindication.”

The United Kingdom, from whom we adopted the Contempt of Courts Act, saw their last such prosecution in 1931. In 2018, a Law Commission, ironically headed by a former judge, was asked to find out whether the “scandalising” provision should be abolished. They said no. In all honesty, these provisions are a colonial artefact, which does not, in the least bit, ensure the dignity of our court. And its broad and vague provisions leave ample room to silence the critics of the Court.

But here is the deeper problem. The Court has imposed punitive measures that go beyond anything provided for in contempt laws. And the contempt law is already too far. Under Section 12 of the Contempt of Courts Act, any act of contempt will be “punished with simple imprisonment for a term which may extend to six months, or with fine which may extend to two thousand rupees, or with both.” There is no other punishment for contempt, other than this.

But, through their March 11 Order, the Court blacklisted these authors from being engaged in any publicly-funded institutions. That too without any contempt proceedings or hearing them. The Supreme Court has conjured up powers from thin air, detached from any statutory or constitutional basis, and has extinguished their Article 19(1)(g) right to practise their profession effectively.

How is any of this possible? Only Justice Suryakant knows. As one of my professor puts it, this is an example of “cosmic level thinking.”

Misrepresentations of Highest Order

Thanks to some, we still have access to the NCERT chapter. We also have the order. Let’s see what the Court actually said versus what the chapter said.

The 18-page long chapter begins with an epigraph from the former US Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas: “The judiciary is in a high sense the guardian of the conscience of the people as well as the law of the land.”

It opens with the Preamble to the Constitution of India which promises social, economic, and political justice, and that justice “is the cornerstone of all societies.” It goes on to explain the three-tier structure of courts, criminal versus civil cases, the role of tribunals, the consumer forum system and other relevant concepts. It also brings to attention various landmark cases of the Supreme Court. For example, the Supreme Court’s striking down of Section 66A of the IT Act and Electoral bonds scheme as a victory of free speech and democratic accountability. It also profiles doyen of the Bench, Justice Kuldip Singh, as the “Green Judge,” whose usage of public interest litigation protected the Taj Mahal from industrial pollution and the Ganga from tannery effluents.

It then cited constituent assembly member M. Ananthasayanam Ayyangar where he said: “This [Supreme Court] is the institution which will preserve those rights and secure to every citizen the right that have been given to him under the Constitution… The Supreme Court is the watchdog of democracy. It is the eye and the guardian of the citizens’ rights”

Approximately 14-pages into the chapter, it addresses “Challenges Faced by the Judicial System.” In it, they discuss case backlog and pending cases. They also discuss efforts at judicial reform: mobile courts, criminal law reforms, mediation mechanisms. And then, in the penultimate subsection, it has a two paragraphs of around 350 words titled “Corruption in the Judiciary,” These paragraphs open by explaining the Bangalore Principles of Judicial Conduct, the internal complaints mechanism (CPGRAMS) and note that between 2017 and 2021, over 1,600 complaints were received mentioning judicial or institutional misconduct.

They then quote directly a statement made by the then CJI B.R. Gavai himself:

“Sadly, there have been instances of corruption and misconduct that have surfaced even within the judiciary. Such occurrences inevitably have a negative impact on public confidence... The path to rebuilding this trust lies in the swift, decisive, and transparent action taken to address and resolve these issues... Transparency and accountability are democratic virtues.”

The chapter’s own summary section lists several positive takeaways: that the judiciary is one of the three pillars of government; that it ensures justice is served and laws are made within the constitutional framework; that citizens must have confidence that rights will be protected; and that citizens have a role in helping the judiciary by bringing social concerns to its notice.

Let’s see what the Supreme Court said about this chapter in its Order.

Paragraph 6 of the Order states that the chapter “washes off with one stroke of the pen, the illustrious history associated with the Supreme Court, the High Courts and the District Courts” and “conspicuously omits the substantive contributions made by these institutions towards the preservation of our democratic fabric.” As mentioned earlier, the chapter profiles Justice Kuldip Singh. It cites the Supreme Court’s free speech victories. It quotes constituent assembly members on the Supreme Court as “the watchdog of democracy.” Are these not celebrations of the Supreme Court, its judges, and its contributions?

Paragraph 6 of the Order also states that the chapter “fails to acknowledge the imperative role the Judiciary undertakes in upholding Constitutional Morality and the Basic Structure Doctrine.” First of all, bringing in explicitly legal and jurisprudential doctrines for Class VIII students studying basic social sciences is a bit too much. But, in words that could not be any more similar, the chapter does say that “the judiciary ensures that laws and policies made by the executive are within the framework of the Constitution” and that “without a strong and fair judiciary, democracy cannot survive.” If this is not an acknowledgment of the judiciary’s role in upholding the Constitution, then what would satisfy the Court?

Paragraph 7 of the Order states that the chapter “chooses not to delve into any of the transformative initiatives and measures pioneered by this Court towards overhauling legal aid mechanisms and streamlining the ease of access to justice.” The chapter explicitly mentions Public Interest Litigation. It explicitly mentions the National Judicial Data Grid. It explicitly mentions mobile courts, mediation, and the government’s procedural reform measures. Are these not mentions of “legal aid mechanisms” and “ease of access to justice”?

Paragraph 10 of the Order states that young students “lack the perspicacity to appreciate the manifold and onerous responsibilities that are discharged by the judiciary on a day-to-day basis.” The Court has decided, in its grand old wisdom, that eighth graders, who are doing algebra and learning refractions, are simply too dumb to handle a basic civics chapter that spends fourteen pages praising the judiciary and two paragraphs acknowledging its flaws.

The Court’s order is an outrage against a chapter where there is supposedly only criticism and no praise. But, such a chapter does not even exist. The chapter that actually exists praises the judiciary more than enough and, in the spirit of honesty, briefly mentions that the judiciary also has problems.

There is corruption in Judiciary. At all levels.

Out of an 18-page chapter and the 350-word section titled “Corruption in the Judiciary” other than the quote from the former CJI B.R. Gavai there is exactly one sentence that actually assert any form of corruption in the judiciary.

“…Nevertheless, people do experience corruption at various levels of the judiciary. For the poor and the disadvantaged, this can worsen the issue of access to justice.”

I am not making this up. This is what made the Supreme Court bleed. The rest of the section is just: explaining judicial code of conduct, data from grievance redressal process, and how impeachment works. By the way, no judge has ever actually been impeached in India’s history. But sure, all this is very dangerous material. The question is whether this is an objective statement? Is there corruption at various levels of the judiciary? Yes. That is what the data says.

The data on judicial corruption in India is not hard to find. It is literally everywhere. I made a four page list of such news reports in 10 minutes.

Data from Transparency International shows that over 45% of Indians believe the judiciary is corrupt which is a view also shared by external assessments. In the 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index, India scored 38 out of 100 and ranked 96th out of 180 countries, in the same bracket as nations the Court would find deeply unflattering to be compared with. These are not abstract data points.

In 2010, a former Law Minister stated in a Supreme Court filing that eight of the previous sixteen Chief Justices of India were corrupt. In 2014, former Supreme Court judge Markandey Katju alleged that three former CJIs made improper compromises to protect a corrupt High Court judge. Both of those men, Bhushan and Katju, faced contempt proceedings. Neither allegation was conclusively disproved. In an interview, when it was asked “Are bribes for bail endemic now?” another former CJI V.N. Khare said the following:

“There is no doubt about it. It is rampant. Corruption in the lower courts is no secret. Sometimes, in the high court as well, cases of corruption have surfaced, but in my experience while I was in the Supreme Court, I have not witnessed anything similar. In the lower courts, it’s alleged that everything comes for a price. Rates are fixed for quick divorce, bail and other favourable verdicts. Cases in the media glare, constantly scrutinised, are different. Otherwise it is very difficult for the common man. There are huge time gaps between hearings. Years are spent to get an order from the lower courts.”

Is this not literally what was said in the chapter? In Paragraph 2 of the Order, the CJI said that the authors were “picking a few words from the statement of a former Chief Justice of India, suggesting that the judiciary itself has acknowledged the lack of transparency, accountability and institutional corruption.” Suggesting? Suggesting how? It is not a suggestion. It is literally a quote from the former CJI. You cannot quote someone and be accused of suggesting what they said. And from what we have seen, the Judiciary indeed HAS acknowledged all these problems. Well, what do they do about it?

As I mentioned earlier, not a single judge in India’s history has ever been successfully impeached. Because the process is cumbersome under both the Judges (Inquiry) Act, 1968 and the opaque in-house inquiry procedures.

This is the normal process for removing a corrupt judge in India. First, you need 100 Lok Sabha MPs or 50 Rajya Sabha MPs to sign a motion. Then, a three-member committee investigates. If they find the judge guilty, both Houses of Parliament must pass the motion by a two-thirds majority in the same session. Then the President removes the judge. You can impose a national emergency and suspend fundamental rights of 1.4 billion people for less.

But even this has a caveat. When cases came close to impeachment, the judges resigned before the motion passed. There is a sinister reason for this too.

For example, Justice Soumitra Sen misappropriated funds, the Rajya Sabha passed the impeachment motion, and he resigned before the Lok Sabha could vote. In a 2012 RTI inquiry it was found that he walked away with full post-retirement benefits, because no constitutional provision barred him from keeping them. Justice P.D. Dinakaran had assets beyond his known sources of income, the Rajya Sabha again passed an impeachment motion, and he too resigned mid-inquiry and walked away with benefits. Justice S.N. Shukla was found by the Supreme Court’s own in-house inquiry to have credibly accepted a bribe. He refused to resign. His judicial work was withdrawn. He sat at home for over a year collecting full salary until he retired in 2020.

Sen, Shuka, and Dinakaran are not anomalies. They fit a long, documented pattern. There is a backlog of 50 million pending cases which means litigants bribe just to get a hearing date; the inefficiency feeds the corruption. And in those rare instances when corruption is found, the accountability mechanisms provide these judges with de-facto immunity. It is a win-win situation for them.

More recently, a fire at Justice Yashwant Varma’s residence turned up a large stacks of partially-burnt cash. As one usually does. But, the impeachment proceedings has started which will be taken to its natural conclusion: him resigning with full benefits. We literally have the video of the burnt cash. I don’t know what else say. And to blacklist these authors for mentioning real problems is purely vindictive and a pathetic waste of public resources and time.

The more the judiciary tries to suppress discussion of its failures, the more distrust it generates. A strong institution answers its critics and the weak one bans books and witch-hunts academics. Maybe the contempt jurisdiction was purposefully not invoked, because if they did, it would be clear that what these authors spoke was the truth. One cannot be contemptuous if they speak the truth.

At this instance, I am reminded of this fitting dissent by Justice Antonin Scalia of the U.S. Supreme Court, wherein which he said:

“This Court has not been shy to enforce the First Amendment in recent terms. It has accorded robust protection to depictions of animal torture, sale of violent video games to children, and lies about having won military medals. Who would have thought that the same Court would today exert such heroic efforts to save so plain an abridgement of the freedom of speech? It is no great mystery what is going on here. The judges of this Court, like the judges of the Supreme Court of Florida… evidently consider the preservation of public respect for the courts a policy objective of the highest order. So it is—but so too are preventing animal torture, protecting the innocence of children, and honoring valiant soldiers. The Court did not relax the Constitution’s guarantee of freedom of speech when legislatures pursued those goals; it should not relax the guarantee when the Supreme Court of Florida pursues this one. The First Amendment is not abridged for the benefit of the Brotherhood of the Robe. I respectfully dissent.”

These in-house secret procedures, the resignation escapes, the weaponization of judicial proceedings is just the “Brotherhood of the Robe” in full action.

Language of the Supreme Court or Tyrants? Both

Sociolinguistics has long established that language can be a tool of social control, and how it is used shapes how a society understands itself and its institutions.

When the highest court speaks, it is providing an example for what authority sounds like. It is teaching our society how power talks. This is true regardless of whether the specific words carry legal force. Words of the Chief Justice clearly has “social” consequences too. Their mere rhetoric can determine what citizens believe they are allowed to say, think, and question. Such asymmetry demands some discipline in their language. This Court has completely abandoned it.

Thanks to some news outlets, we have a rough transcript of the proceedings. These were the words of the CJI Suryakant in an open court:

“We need to find out who is responsible. Heads must roll… There must be a deeper probe into this issue. Who are the persons behind this? We want to know. We won't close the case.”

On September 25, 1930, at the Supreme Court in Leipzig, Adolf Hitler used this precise vocabulary, “heads will roll in the sand,” to threaten his political opponents once “the Fascists have taken over control of the German nation and inaugurated the day of reckoning.” This is not the precedent they want.

But it continues its language of retribution and revenge. During the March 11 hearing, the CJI further remarked:

“Some elements have acted and reacted irresponsibly on social media. We firmly believe in catching the bull by the horn… No one will be spared… Even if they are hiding outside the country, I will not spare them.”

The Court has also directed the Union government to identify websites and individuals who had posted critical commentary, so that “action could be taken in accordance with law.” What law? No one knows. Just a demand for names. This kind of blanket blacklisting and witch-hunting is judicial McCarthyism.

But, I am not suggesting that CJI Surya Kant intends what Hitler or McCarthy intended. What I am pointing out is something simpler and more important: language has its own history, and institutions do get measured by the vocabulary they choose. When a constitutional court speaks like this, the institution is projecting fear. It does not produce respect. Even in the rare instances where it does, it is not the kind of respect that will last long.

And when an institution as powerful as the Supreme Court punishes its critics, the chilling effect is real. People actually fall silent. Journalists and Academics self-censor their reports. Slowly, the marketplace of ideas would narrow to nothing and then it dies. Because the Court sponsored its killing.

The PM abdicated his Constitutional Responsibilities

On June 9, 2024, Narendra Modi stood before the nation, placed his hand on the Constitution of India, and took an oath for a third consecutive term. He swore:

“I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India as by law established, that I will uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India, that I will faithfully and conscientiously discharge my duties as a Prime Minister for the Union and that I will do right to all manner of people in accordance with the Constitution and the law, without fear or favour, affection or ill-will.”

After the court passed the order, Prime Minister Narendra Modi reportedly expressed his displeasure and directed that “accountability be fixed for those who had approved the offending chapter.” Soon after, Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan declared that “the moment it came to our notice, we issued directions to withdraw the book and stop its distribution. We have the utmost respect for the judiciary and there was no intent to disrespect the judiciary.”

Maybe the words are sincere to show compliance. But this is not what the constitution requires. The Prime Minister and the Education Minister have taken an oath to the Constitution. Not to the judiciary. When the elected head of the executive responds with such docility, against an ever-encroaching judiciary, one has to ask: what, exactly, does he believe he was elected to do?

I am not asking the government to revolt. But the Constitution does not expect them to simply standby either. It requires you to “do right to all manner of people in accordance with the Constitution and the law.” When the judiciary goes against the Constitution, as it has here, one must resist with firmness, through proper constitutional channels. That is why you are required to take an oath. This is not some “cosmic level thinking.” There is actual jurisprudence behind the moral and political obligations that an oath demands.

The last time India saw the executive and judiciary moving hand-in-hand against the Constitution, it was in 1975. When Indira Gandhi declared the Emergency and suspended civil rights. This Court chose institutional comfort over the liberty of citizens. The Court did not have the spine to stand up to the executive when it mattered the most. And it was the closest India ever came to the complete collapse of constitutional governance.

That time, it was a judiciary unwilling to resist the executive. This time, it is an executive which is unwilling to defend our right to speak the truth against a “dictatorial judiciary.” The executive exists as one of three co-equal branches. Today they have decided to publicly castrate themselves before another.

How the Bar assisted the Court in this Witch-hunt

There is a final disgrace that I want to name, because it has been too carefully avoided in most commentary.

This whole issue was created out of thin air, on February 25, 2026, by two of India’s most prominent senior advocates: Kapil Sibal and Abhishek Manu Singhvi. There was no concerned citizen or civil society group that petitioned the Court to look into this matter. Maybe because we know that what was written was true. Or maybe because all of us have better things to do.

But, according to multiple accounts, these two men appeared before the Chief Justice’s bench and with a newspaper article about the NCERT chapter and expressed their shock at its contents and literally invited the court to act. They primed the Court in this witch hunt.

Let this sink in for a moment.

Kapil Sibal is a veteran politician, former Union Minister for Law and Justice, current Rajya Sabha member, and one of the most experienced constitutional lawyers at the Indian Bar. Abhishek Manu Singhvi is his near-peer: a senior advocate, former Additional Solicitor General and a current parliamentarian.

These are their exact words. Mr. Sibal said that “the reference to ‘corruption’, particularly in relation to the judiciary, seemed deliberate.”

Mr. Singhvi added that: “It is as if there is no corruption in other organs of governance — Ministers, bureaucrats, the police, politicians.”

And here's the thing, if they actually read the book, as some have done, the book does criticize everyone. There are cartoons of election candidates hurling abuse, getting caught by the police with bundles of cash. They also mention the pending criminal cases against legislators. The judiciary got the same treatment as everybody else.

That is not the end. The current Solicitor General of India, Tushar Mehta was also doing his part in this witch-hunt. As the Counsel for the Union Government he said that: “these people would never work with the UGC or any ministry. We stand by the institution. No one will get away scot-free.” He was so into this witch-hunt, he was offended on behalf of the Court. He said: “The entire chapter will be revised. There is another part about pendency… justice delayed is justice denied. We can’t teach that justice is denied.”

What more can I say? Can we not teach truth to kids anymore? Should education just contain approved knowledge? Is that even education or just propaganda?

The sad truth is that these doyens of the Bar, as we call them in Madras, walked into the Supreme Court, with half-baked knowledge, and triggered one of the most sweeping acts of educational censorship in history.

But their actions were driven by something simpler: members of a professional guild protecting the guild’s reputation. In a lecture on the rule of law, Justice H.R. Khanna said that “there can, indeed, be no greater indication of the decay in the rule of law than a docile Bar.” This Bar has been worse than docile. It has gone hand-in-hand with the executive and judiciary, waging a war against our right to free speech and expression. This is the “Brotherhood of the Robe” in action again.

The Apotheosis of Judiciary has to Stop

To speak of the Supreme Court as some monolithic edifice beyond all reproach and criticism is to confuse an institution of men with gods. Institutions can be wrong. Institutions can be corrupt. And when an institution begins to ban the books that say so, you are no longer in a republic. You are in a theocracy of robes.

Citizens must understand that the judiciary is not a sacred temple. It is a governmental institution created by a constitution to protect our rights, funded by taxes paid by the people, and accountable to the people and our constitution. It deserves respect. But, respect is not given on faith. It is earned through conduct. All this kowtowing from the executive and the Bar is just idol worship of an institution that is slowly ceasing to deserve that respect.

There is a reason that democracies insist on separation of powers. Because, without checks and balances, each branch will eventually prefer its own comfort over their true purpose. The historical record is clear of what happens when judiciaries lose this sense of proportion. In Turkey after the 2016 coup attempt, over 4000 judges had to be removed or suspended on suspicion of links to the 2015 failed coup attempt. Similar stuff happened in Hungary too.

But what we learn from history is that we do not learn from history. The pattern is always the same: the institution conflates criticism of itself with attack upon the state, and uses state power to answer the criticism. Each time, it begins with something small. A textbook. A social media post. A professor or a student who wrote or spoke some impolite truth. Something heretical to their theocracy.

Mark of a Fearful Institution and What Remains

These past few days have told us more about the Supreme Court as an institution than the textbook ever could.

It tells us that a chapter which mostly praises the judiciary, profiles a great judge, celebrates landmark judgements, and calls the Court as “the watchdog of democracy,” is nothing but a “deep-rooted conspiracy.” It tells us that quoting a former Chief Justice’s words on corruption is “deliberate misrepresentation.”

It tells us that fundamental rights of three academics can be extinguished without any statutory or constitutional basis and without a full hearing. It tells us that critics can be listed and witch-hunted even from abroad. It tells us that the Court’s own free speech rulings apply to everyone except the Court.

It also tells something about the broader institutional cowardice on display. That the Prime Minister thinks institutional dignity matters more than educated discourse. And that three of the most powerful lawyers in the country were perfectly comfortable priming a bench against a textbook they hadn’t fully read.

The bench that struck down ADM Jabalpur understood that self-correction is the mark of a healthy institution. The bells, once rung, do not unring easily. But there is still time for the Court to restore itself here. The order may be revoked; the individuals may yet be heard fully and fairly.

And look, this isn’t just about a textbook. The question belongs to all those who read something and asks whether they’re actually allowed to have an opinion about it.

How long will we wait before this Court remembers what it is?

It is not a god. It is not a monarch. It is not beyond reproach or truth.

And if we do not speak now, we must forever hold our peace.

There is an update on this matter.