akrishnarao

Tag: Supreme Court

  • If the Judiciary Is Bleeding, Who Fired the First Shot?

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    There are systematic attempts underway to undermine the institutional authority of the Supreme Court and to damage the reputation of the judiciary. If these attempts are not stopped, the sanctity of the judiciary in the eyes of the people will erode. It will influence the tender minds of the youth. “Shots have been fired at us… the judiciary is bleeding,” expressed Justice Suryakant of the Supreme Court of India in anguish. For describing corruption in the judiciary in an 8th-grade textbook published by the National Council of Educational Research and Training, he went so far as to announce a ban on that very book. He ordered that the book should not be available even in digital form. Following these prohibitory orders, NCERT withdrew several lakh copies of the textbook. It was also reported that a bookstore owner was arrested by the police for selling photocopies of the textbook. “I will not tolerate anyone on this earth attempting to defame the judiciary,” said the Chief Justice.

    When he expressed his anger over the textbook, Prime Minister Narendra Modi was in Israel. Official sources told the media that Modi too was distressed that the judiciary’s sentiments had been hurt and remarked, “Who is overseeing all this?” After returning to the country, Modi reportedly raised the issue in a Cabinet meeting as well. News reports said he remarked, “How can we tell 8th-grade children ourselves that there is corruption in our judiciary?” Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan also expressed regret over including the controversial chapter on corruption in the judiciary in the 8th-grade textbook. “We have immense respect for the judiciary. We did not intend to insult it deliberately,” he said. The Supreme Court sent notices to NCERT Chairman Professor Dinesh Prasad Saklani.

    With the Chief Justice expressing concern, is there really a conspiracy behind this entire episode to defame the judiciary? Are there systematic efforts underway to reduce public respect for the judiciary? In fact, the Congress attempted to create the impression that it was the Modi government itself that engineered this conspiracy. “For a decade, the BJP government has been trying to spread its ideological virus through textbooks. The inclusion of details about corruption in the judiciary was not accidental. It was a systematic attempt to corrupt the minds of students,” said Congress spokesperson Jairam Ramesh. He made indirect remarks suggesting there was evidence that Modi himself guided this process and that the RSS was behind it. Lawyers Kapil Sibal and Abhishek Singhvi, who argue opposition cases in the Supreme Court, made submissions that led Justice Suryakant to treat the matter more seriously. They succeeded in creating the impression that a major conspiracy had taken place.

    It is because people believe that they will ultimately receive justice through the judiciary that lakhs of them approach the courts. If they did not believe courts would deliver justice, there is a possibility that they might resort to vigilante justice instead of going to court. It cannot be said that Justice Suryakant’s view — “We cannot allow students to develop the impression that justice is not available in this country” — is entirely wrong. The textbook mentioned a judgment that described slum dwellers as encroachers. However, by highlighting such instances, it would be inappropriate to portray the entire judiciary as anti-poor.

    Quoting Martin Luther King Jr.’s words, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” CBI Special Judge Justice Jitendra Singh, in his recent judgment on the Delhi liquor case, detailed across nearly 600 pages how the CBI allegedly tailored facts to suit its narrative in order to implicate political opponents of the ruling party. He asked, “If even policy decisions taken to strengthen the economy are treated as crimes, how can any government take decisions?” He pointed out the injustice of keeping accused persons imprisoned for months based solely on the statements of approvers and accomplice witnesses. He observed that the right to life and personal liberty did not come from the government’s grace but from the Constitution, and that unless a balance is maintained between the Constitution and statutory law, public trust in the criminal justice system would erode. It is noteworthy that even constitutional benches which had refused stays in several instances in the Delhi liquor cases did not reflect at such depth as the lower court did. Regardless of how much this judgment is challenged in higher courts, the significance of the questions it raises will not diminish.

    By banning a textbook that mentioned corruption in the judiciary, students may lose the opportunity to learn in the classroom about what is happening within the judicial system. The very act of banning it has created greater discussion and drawn more attention to the issue. Do students learn about the world only through textbooks? Just because something is not mentioned in a textbook, will they automatically form a favorable opinion of the judiciary? It is no secret that today social media has far greater influence than any textbook. Do 8th-grade students not watch television or read newspapers? Moreover, as mentioned in the textbook, the government itself has repeatedly informed Parliament that crores of cases are pending across the Supreme Court, High Courts, district and subordinate courts. The textbook also cited remarks made in 2025 by then Chief Justice Justice Gavai that corruption and misconduct in the judiciary erode public trust. Therefore, merely banning the textbook will not increase public respect for the judiciary. It is impossible to conceal such matters from students simply by excluding them from textbooks.

    Secondly, it has become a matter of debate whether the Supreme Court has the constitutional authority to ban a book or a speech. In a democratic society, censoring a book falls under curtailing freedom of expression guaranteed by Article 19. Legal experts are raising questions about whether judicial orders fall within the permissible restrictions under Article 19 and whether the Constitution grants such authority to the judiciary. When their fundamental rights are violated, citizens can approach the courts. But when courts themselves infringe upon fundamental rights, what is to be done? they ask.

    After the strict stance taken by the Supreme Court, NCERT has fallen in line—and so has the government. Everyone is offering clarifications and apologies. NCERT apologized in court and assured that the books would be withdrawn, but the court is not satisfied with that. The Chief Justice has put a stay on the book. But is this really an issue related to corruption in the judiciary, or is there some other story behind it?

    In reality, the chapter titled ‘Corruption in Judiciary’ included in NCERT’s Class 8 book was not an attempt to inform students about corruption existing at any level within the judiciary. It appears to be an effort to raise questions about the credibility of the judiciary and influence public perception. It should be noted that NCERT books are not prepared randomly, as if someone wrote something arbitrarily and it got printed. There is a long process behind it. Every subject has two committees that oversee the entire process—from preparing the content to its publication.

    This chapter appears in the Class 8 Social Science book. It is perhaps just a coincidence that the head of the Curricular Area Group that prepared the Social Science book is a guest professor at IIT Gandhinagar, Michel Danino. This committee oversees the selection and writing of content for social science textbooks. After this comes the National Syllabus and Teaching Learning Materials Committee, a high-level committee that gave the book its final shape. The chairman of this committee is MC Pant, Chancellor of the National School of Planning and Administration. Professor Manjul Bhargava of Princeton University is its co-chair. Apart from them, there are 19 members including Sudha Murty and Sanjeev Sanyal, a member of the Prime Minister’s Economic Advisory Council. Think about it—if all these people have truly fulfilled their responsibilities, it would mean that the book’s content passed through all their scrutiny and none of them found anything objectionable in it. It is worth noting that around the same time, remarks previously made by Sanjeev Sanyal that “the judiciary is the main obstacle to rapid development in this country,” were also brought up.

    So the question is whether a committee that prepares textbook content in line with the prevailing social and political narrative in the country would inadvertently decide to teach eighth-grade students about alleged corruption in the judiciary. It is hard to believe that this happened accidentally.

    Then the question arises: why did the government not defend it in court? If so many people collectively played a role in preparing the book, then either action should be taken against all of them, or the government should defend the book in court. If one closely observes the narrative that has emerged on social media regarding this entire episode, it seems that the objective behind including this chapter in the book has already been achieved. A discussion on corruption in the judiciary has begun, and a debate has also erupted over the Supreme Court’s move to stop this discussion. There is a large group arguing that corruption exists in the judiciary and that it should be investigated and openly discussed. The same group is also saying that the judiciary becomes immediately sensitive about matters concerning itself and does not want its issues to come before the public.

    Senior Supreme Court lawyer and public interest litigator Prashant Bhushan has also objected to certain remarks made by the Supreme Court and some senior lawyers. He wrote on social media that in 2007, Transparency International had said that in public perception, the judiciary was the second most corrupt institution. He wrote that if discussion on this issue is suppressed, it will only strengthen public perception. Later, former NCERT Director JS Rajput also questioned the Supreme Court’s stance and said that stopping discussion on corruption in the judiciary is not appropriate.

    Why should the court react only when corruption in the judiciary is mentioned? Why remain silent when other institutions are criticized? This entire episode has also brought the case of Yashwant Varma back into discussion. Burnt currency notes were reportedly recovered from his residence when he was a judge of the Delhi High Court. The incident took place around Holi last year, and now another Holi has arrived. Nothing has happened in one year. There is an impeachment motion in Parliament that is to be investigated. People are asking what happened after sacks of cash were allegedly recovered from a judge’s residence. If action had been taken and an example set, it would have positively influenced public perception. But no action has been taken on such a major issue of corruption.

    There are those who argue that there is nothing wrong with textbooks discussing the ailments present in the country and that only by discussing them can they be resolved. For example, irregularities in the electoral system have also been discussed in textbooks, including an image of currency notes found in a candidate’s car. Do such incidents not occur? Over time, several allegations have been made against High Court and Supreme Court judges. There are no records of any judge being convicted or impeached over corruption allegations; at most, transfers have taken place. While ordinary citizens and political leaders face CBI raids and ED investigations, why does the same not happen to judges? The very higher judiciary that banned the 8th-grade textbook must answer these questions.

  • Constitutional Courts and Economic Power: A Tale of Two Democracies

    The recent ruling of the Supreme Court of the United States striking down former President Donald Trump’s sweeping global tariffs has not only redrawn the limits of executive authority in Washington but also triggered diplomatic and political recalibration in New Delhi. At the core of the episode lies a constitutional constant shared by both democracies: the principle of judicial independence and the judiciary’s role in enforcing the separation of powers.

    In a 6–3 verdict, the U.S. Supreme Court held that the President had exceeded his authority under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act by imposing wide-ranging import duties without explicit congressional approval. Reaffirming that the constitutional power to levy taxes and duties rests with Congress under Article I, Section 8, the Court underscored that emergency powers cannot become a gateway for bypassing legislative authority. The judgment was widely viewed as a strong institutional assertion of judicial independence, especially given the political and economic stakes attached to the tariff regime.

    The ripple effects were immediate. The interim Indo-U.S. trade framework, announced earlier with provisions to reduce reciprocal tariffs on Indian goods from 25% to around 18%, was premised on the enforceability of the U.S. Executive’s tariff structure. With the Supreme Court invalidating the legal foundation of that regime, trade experts suggested that more than half of India’s exports to the United States could revert to standard tariff treatment. Although the U.S. administration subsequently invoked Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974 to impose temporary global tariffs for 150 days, the long-term contours of the bilateral arrangement remain uncertain. Indian negotiators have reportedly deferred further talks to reassess the new legal landscape, placing the trade deal in a state of cautious pause rather than definitive rollback.

    Domestically, the ruling has intensified political debate. Senior Congress leader Jairam Ramesh questioned the timing of the interim agreement and called for it to be placed on hold until greater clarity emerges from the U.S. side. He urged the government to ensure that import liberalisation would not proceed without legally sustainable commitments and warned of potential adverse effects on Indian farmers cultivating crops such as corn, cotton, soybeans, and apples. Ramesh’s remarks framed the U.S. Court’s decision as an illustration of constitutional checks in action and suggested that India must exercise similar prudence in safeguarding domestic interests.

    The broader debate inevitably draws comparisons with India’s own judicial approach to major economic decisions. The Supreme Court’s judgment in Vivek Narayan Sharma v. Union of India, which upheld the 2016 demonetisation of ₹500 and ₹1000 notes, remains one of the most consequential economic rulings in recent years. By a 4–1 majority, the Court concluded that the decision-making process satisfied the requirements of the Reserve Bank of India Act and that economic policy choices fall within the domain of the Executive unless they violate constitutional or statutory limits. The majority emphasized judicial restraint, holding that courts should not substitute their judgment for that of policymakers in complex fiscal matters.

    However, the verdict also contained a powerful dissent. Justice B.V. Nagarathna held that such a sweeping measure, which invalidated 86% of the currency in circulation overnight, should have been carried out through legislation rather than by executive notification. She argued that bypassing Parliament undermined constitutional procedure and that the RBI’s recommendation process was not independent in substance. Critics of the majority judgment contended that the Court avoided a searching inquiry into the socio-economic impact of demonetisation, including hardship faced by small traders, daily wage earners, and rural populations. They also noted that no retrospective relief was granted despite the acknowledgment of widespread inconvenience.

    India’s judicial engagement with economic power can also be seen in its handling of high-stakes corporate and natural resource disputes. In the case concerning gas extraction from the Krishna-Godavari Basin, the Supreme Court, in a judgment authored by Justice Sudershan Reddy in Reliance Natural Resources Ltd. v. Reliance Industries Ltd. (2010), examined the dispute between the Ambani brothers over gas supply from the KG-D6 block operated by Reliance Industries Limited. The Court held that natural gas is a national asset and that its pricing and allocation fall within the sovereign domain of the Government of India. It ruled that private family agreements could not override government policy or the production-sharing contract framework. The verdict reaffirmed that natural resources are held in trust for the public and that executive policy decisions regarding their allocation must align with constitutional principles.

    That judgment underscored an important dimension of judicial independence in India: the willingness to assert the State’s sovereign control over strategic resources while resisting attempts to privatise public policy through corporate agreements. At the same time, the Court showed deference to governmental policy prerogatives in determining pricing and allocation, thereby balancing judicial review with executive competence in economic administration.

    This contrast between the U.S. Supreme Court’s assertive invalidation of executive tariffs and the Indian Supreme Court’s deferential stance in demonetisation highlights differing judicial temperaments. While both courts operate within robust constitutional frameworks, the American ruling reflects a readiness to directly curtail executive economic power on separation-of-powers grounds. The Indian verdict, in contrast, underscored institutional restraint in matters of fiscal policy, even as dissenting voices articulated constitutional concerns about process and parliamentary oversight.

    Earlier landmark cases such as Kesavananda Bharati v. State of Kerala had established that judicial review and separation of powers form part of the Constitution’s basic structure, beyond Parliament’s amending power. Yet, the demonetisation ruling demonstrated that the exercise of judicial independence is often calibrated rather than absolute. The Court reaffirmed its authority to review executive action but chose a limited standard of scrutiny in economic governance.

    As the Indo-U.S. trade deal stands at a crossroads, these developments serve as a reminder that judicial decisions can reshape not only domestic governance but also international economic relations. The U.S. Supreme Court’s judgment has recalibrated trade diplomacy, while India’s own judicial precedents continue to shape debates over executive accountability in economic policymaking. In both democracies, the judiciary remains a central constitutional actor—sometimes assertive, sometimes restrained—but always pivotal in defining the limits of power.

  • Freebies or Bribery? India’s Welfare State on Constitutional Trial

    The debate over “freebies” in Indian politics has now entered the constitutional arena, with the Supreme Court of India agreeing to examine whether pre-election promises of cash transfers funded from the public exchequer amount to a “corrupt practice” under the Representation of the People Act, 1951. The Supreme Court said the petition will be heard in March. What began as a political accusation has evolved into a deeper inquiry into fiscal responsibility, democratic fairness, and the character of India’s welfare state. At stake is not merely the legality of campaign promises, but the broader balance between social justice and macroeconomic prudence in a competitive democracy.

    Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin’s announcement on February 13, 2026, implementing a major bonanza for women in the poll-bound state of Tamil Nadu—crediting ₹5,000 each to the bank accounts of 1.31 crore women family heads who are beneficiaries under the scheme Kalaignar Magalir Urimai Thittam (KMUT)—has added further interest to the debate.

    The petition filed by BJP leader Ashwini Kumar Upadhyay raises foundational questions. Can electoral promises financed from public funds distort the level playing field? Where does legitimate welfare end and electoral inducement begin? And should courts regulate what is essentially a political and fiscal policy choice? The Representation of the People Act identifies certain forms of bribery and inducement as corrupt practices, yet it does not clearly define whether manifesto promises of welfare schemes fall within that ambit. This definitional ambiguity has allowed successive governments across party lines to expand direct benefit transfers without clear judicial boundaries.

    The controversy gains urgency when viewed through the prism of fiscal sustainability. In Maharashtra, the Ladki Bahin Yojana reportedly costs approximately ₹46,000 crore annually—nearly 8 percent of the state’s total budget—at a time when the fiscal deficit exceeds ₹66,000 crore. Such recurring commitments constrain fiscal space for capital expenditure on infrastructure, education, and healthcare. The 2019 farm loan waiver of roughly ₹25,000 crore provided immediate relief but was widely criticized for restricting long-term investment capacity. Economists warn that debt-financed consumption spending can crowd out growth-oriented expenditure, raise debt-to-GSDP ratios, and increase interest burdens that future taxpayers must bear. The Reserve Bank of India has cautioned that excessive non-merit subsidies may affect macroeconomic stability, underscoring the long-term risks of fiscally expansive populism.

    Yet the debate is complicated by the absence of a universally accepted definition of a “freebie.” Economist C. Rangarajan has suggested distinguishing between subsidies on merit goods such as education and health and non-merit transfers that lack productivity linkages. But even this distinction is not always clear. Is free electricity for farmers a distortionary subsidy or a growth investment? Is free education merely welfare, or a constitutional obligation under the right to education framework? Is unconditional income support empowerment for vulnerable households, or an electoral inducement timed for political gain? The boundary between welfare and populism is not merely economic; it is normative and political.

    International comparisons add nuance but not easy solutions. Countries such as Germany and South Korea operate structured welfare systems in which benefits are often linked to employment search requirements, skill development, or contributory social insurance. These systems are embedded within stable fiscal architectures and high levels of formal employment. India, by contrast, confronts a large informal sector, weak employment absorption, and rising aspirations among its population. In such a setting, unconditional cash transfers are administratively simpler and politically more attractive than complex structural reforms.

    Electoral timing further complicates perceptions of legitimacy. In several states, welfare schemes have been expanded, advanced, or newly announced shortly before elections. Even when legally permissible, such timing creates the impression that public finances are being leveraged for electoral advantage. The criticism is not confined to one political formation. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has warned against what he termed “revdi culture,” arguing that fiscally irresponsible promises burden future generations. Yet critics note that the Modi government is providing free food grains to over 81 crore beneficiaries under the Pradhan Mantri Garib Kalyan Anna Yojana (PMGKAY) to ensure food security and reduce financial burdens. This initiative covers Antyodaya Anna Yojana (AAY) and Priority Households (PHH) under the National Food Security Act, with a five-year budget of ₹11.80 lakh crore. Moreover, BJP-led governments in states such as Assam, Delhi, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh operate substantial direct transfer schemes of their own. What emerges is less an ideological contradiction than a structural incentive within a competitive democracy.

    Direct transfers produce immediate and visible benefits to identifiable voters. Infrastructure projects, by contrast, yield slower and more diffuse gains that are harder to attribute to a particular government. In an electoral environment where tangible short-term relief can decisively influence outcomes, parties across the spectrum may feel compelled to adopt similar strategies. The result is a normalization of competitive cash-transfer politics, where the debate shifts from whether to provide transfers to how large and how frequent they should be.

    As the Supreme Court considers the legal framework, it faces a delicate institutional balance. An aggressive intervention could risk judicial overreach into policymaking and blur the separation of powers. A restrained approach, however, may leave fiscal populism unchecked in shaping electoral competition. The solution may not lie in absolute prohibition or blanket endorsement, but in greater transparency and accountability. Mechanisms such as mandatory fiscal impact disclosures in manifestos, adherence to medium-term fiscal responsibility frameworks, or the establishment of independent fiscal councils could introduce discipline without undermining democratic choice.

    Ultimately, the freebies debate reflects a deeper tension within India’s development trajectory—between redistribution and growth, between immediate relief and long-term investment, and between electoral competition and fiscal prudence. In a democracy committed to both social justice and economic stability, the challenge is not to eliminate welfare but to design it responsibly. Whether cash transfers represent empowerment or populism depends on their timing, targeting, sustainability, and measurable outcomes. The Court may clarify legal boundaries, but the enduring balance between welfare and responsibility will remain a political question, to be negotiated through informed public debate and accountable governance.