What's in a Name? A Lot, Especially if that Name is "Anti-National"

Forgive the plain title as this writer is at his wits' end, exhausted, after a week-long wild goose chase. The object of my search? The meaning of "Anti National" in context of the law.

The immediate cause behind this exertion was set of the guidelines issued by the Delhi High Court's High Powered Committee on how jail authorities should exercise their discretion towards releasing inmates to manage the risks posed by Covid-19 [The most recent one is here]. After detailing what kinds of prisoner categories should be considered favourably for release, the Committee listed categories of undertrial prisoners — persons who are not convicted of crimes and theoretically still presumed innocent — which should not be considered for release. One such category, is

"Cases investigated by CBI/ED/NIA/Special Cell of Delhi Police, Crime Branch, SFIO, Terror related Cases, Riot cases, cases under Anti-National Activities and Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act etc." [emphasis mine]

This left me perplexed as to what the Committee might have meant by "Anti-National" activity, since the guidelines themselves don't define the term. The "under" in the portion I extracted has got to be a typo, as there is no statute under which "anti-national activities" are proscribed. Even so, does that mean that one gathers the meaning of this phrase from its context, i.e. is anti-national activity a broad term that includes (i) riot cases, (ii) terror related cases, and (iii) cases under the UAPA? But then what about the innocuous "etc." at the end of that category? Also, considering that the purpose of the Committee is to give clear guidance on how to exercise discretion, does it help to use such undefined phrases which give no guidance and leave the jail authorities to their own devices?

Having found no satisfactory answers within the Guidelines, I decided to venture look elsewhere.

Statutes / Constitution

At one point in time the term "Anti-National" was part of the Indian Constitution itself: Article 31-D was added during the Emergency by the 42nd Amendment, to basically render laws for made for "prevention or prohibition of anti-national activities" exempt from judicial review under Articles 14, 19 or 31 of the Constitution. It had a long explanation on what the term meant:

... (b) 'anti-national activity', in relation to an individual or association, means any action taken by such individual or association — 

(i) which is intended, or which supports any claim, to bring about, on any ground whatsoever, the cession of a part of the territory of India or the secession of a part of the territory of India or which incites any individual or association to bring about such cession or secession;

(ii) which disclaims, questions, threatens, disrupts or is intended to threaten or disrupt the sovereignty and integrity of India or the security of the State or the unity of the nation;

(iii) which is intended, or which is part of a scheme which is intended, to overthrow by force the Government as by law established;

(iv) which is intended, or which is part of a scheme which is intended, to create internal disturbance or the disruption of public services;

(v) which is intended, or which is part of a scheme which is intended, to threaten or disrupt harmony between different religious, racial, language or regional groups or cases or communities; ... 

Never before or after this brief interlude has the Constitution, or any statute for that matter, seen such an extensive engagement with the phrase. That does not mean that legislatures have entirely abandoned using the term either. Below is a short, non-exhaustive, list of statutes (both state and central) where we can still find reference to "Anti-National":

1. Arms Act, 1959 — The original Statement of Objects and Reasons [SOR] for the 1959 legislation referred to "anti-social or anti-national elements" using weapons and bombs, and the SOR for the 1988 amendments to the Act also refer to challenges posed by "terrorist and anti national elements"; 
2. National Security Act, 1980 — The SOR of what is today's the primary central statute on preventive detention referred to the "current crisis" posed by "anti social and anti national elements including secessionist, communal, and pro-caste elements" which "pose a grave threat ... and sometimes even hold society to ransom.";
3. Goa, Daman and Diu School Education Act, 1984 — Section 12 states that employees are to be governed by a code of conduct, and Section 12(2)(b) prescribes that the "Code shall prescribe, inter alia that no employee shall propagate  anti-national, communal, caste, or sectarian outlook.";
4. Cable Television Networks (Regulation) Act, 1995 — The SOR states that subscribers and others are unaware of their rights and duties in respect of "protection of subscribers from anti-national broadcasts from sources inimical to our national interest";
5. Uttarakhand Police Act, 2007 — Section 2(i) defines "internal security" as meaning "preservation of sovereignty and integrity of the state from disruptive and anti-national forces";
6. Sikkim Police Act, 2008 — Section 2(g) defines "internal security" in language identical to the 2007 Uttarakhand Act; [Note: similar clauses can be found in other recent police acts as well]
7. U.P. Fighters of Democracy Act, 2016 — The Act creates a framework for paying honour money to those who stood up against the Emergency. Section 5 of this statute specifies conditions for cancelling the payment of honour money, and one condition in Section 5(i) is the "participation in any crime of moral turpitude and in any anti-national activity" (Oh, the irony);
8. M.P. Loktantra Senani Samman Adhiniyam 2018 — The Madhya Pradesh version of the same law, and Section 9(1)(a) provides for an identical condition as the Uttar Pradesh law; [Note: similar clauses can be found in other state laws passed under Article 348(3) of the Constitution]
9. U.P. Private Universities Act, 2019 — Section 3 of the statute lays down conditions for establishing a university, and Section 3(2)(r) stipulates that the university "to undertake neither to be involved nor to permit anyone to cause or promote anti national activities inside the campus or under the name of the university"  
10. Besides these categories, there is also subordinate legislation passed through notifications where engaging in "Anti-National" acts deprives persons of some benefits or allows for prohibiting activity. This includes: (i) Government procedures on giving advertisements to newspapers etc., (ii) Service Rules for public servants, (iii) CBFC guidelines on censorship, (iv) Cancelling allotments of land under Government schemes, and (iv) As basis to issue Look-Out Circulars against persons. 

Courts and "Anti-National" Conduct  

I also scanned cases spanning 1950 to 2020 from India's Supreme Court, the many High Courts, and some Central Tribunals, where the term was used. This exercise showed that courts have commonly used "Anti-National" as an adjective to describe a wide array of conduct, such as: 

1. Espionage / Spying;
2. Conduct prosecuted under anti-terror laws such as TADA / UAPA;
3. Making Secessionist / Communal Speeches;
4. Activity such as food adulteration, illicit drug trade, making / handling counterfeit currency, corruption, smuggling, etc. punishable under various laws or legal grounds for preventive detention. [Note: A vast majority of cases seemed to fall within this category]

Here, courts not only called such activity "Anti National", but often referred to it as "anti-social and anti-national" conduct. 

The other insight gained from analysing cases was seeing how executive authorities used the term "Anti National" while exercising their discretion. Thus, I came across government school contracts where the employee was barred from "anti national / anti government" activity. But most interesting in this regard was the context of preventive detention orders, which routinely carried the phrase. This was especially so in detentions ordered under the Jammu & Kashmir Public Safety Act, 1978. Curiously, I only found one case which pointed out that engaging in "Anti National" acts was not one of the possible grounds enlisted in the statute authorising preventive detention [Mohd. Saleem Wani v. State, 2010 J&K HC]. 

It was mildly disconcerting that from the large sample size that I played with — all cases between 1950 to 2020 — I found only four cases where courts had offered any semblance of discussion on what this vague idea of "Anti National" conduct might entail. Three of these are:

1. In K.V. Subbarao [AIR 1967 AP 202], the Andhra Pradesh High Court was considering the legality of a detention ordered under the Defence of India Rules, 1961, and the detention order stated that the activities of the Petitioner were "anti-national". Refuting the contention of the Petitioner that this was a vague, undefined phrase, that found no mention in the statute and rules and thus could not be the basis of a detention order, the Court held that "Anti-National Activity" had a wide scope and covered all kinds of activities for which detention could be ordered under the law, viz. acts prejudicial to the maintenance of public order, India's relations with foreign powers, maintenance of supplies, conduct of military operations, and the defence of India. 
2. In Gurkirpal Singh [(1990) 97 PLR 102], the Punjab High Court differentiated between political activity from "anti-national activity" by holding that only the latter could be basis to refuse appointment to a probationer [Here, it was alleged that the appellant was keeping contacts with extremist elements].  
3. In S. Thirumalaiappan [2011, Madras HC], the Madras High Court explained that the phrase "anti national activities" which came in Rule 40 of the Tamil Nadu Pension Rules, 1978 ["anti national activities such as espionage, sabotage, and the like"] as a valid basis for denying compassionate allowance, included a public servant found committing crimes such as cheating and forgery.

The fourth, and the most comprehensive discussion, comes in Priya Parameswaran Pillai [2015, Delhi]. Here, a Look-Out Circular had been opened against the Petitioner which barred her from leaving India. One of the purported reasons was her engagement in "Anti-National" activities, which according to the government was her intention of talking about matters of Indian state policy on before a committee of British parliamentarians, which had the "potentiality of degrading the image of India in the eyes of foreign nations, leading to a regression in the country's economic activities and endeavours...".

The basis for executive power was a clause 8(j) in the official memorandum, which allowed issuing a Look Out Circular "In exceptional cases, ... without complete parameters and/or case details against CI suspects, terrorists, anti-national elements etc. in larger national interest…." (emphasis mine). The Court acknowledged the inherent vagueness in the phrase "Anti-National":

Pertinently, the word anti-national does not find a place in most dictionaries; it is in effect a combination of two words. If one were to deconstruct the meaning of the word anti-national, one would perhaps have to look to the meaning of the word, “Nationalism”. The nearest equivalent to the word ‘Nationalism’ would be patriotism. Patriotism as a concept would be linked to nationhood. Nationhood has several attributes which are, inter alia, inextricably connected with symbols, such as: the National Flag; the National Anthem; the National Song; and perhaps, the common history, culture, tradition and heritage that people of an organized State share amongst themselves.

In respect of each of these attributes of nationhood, there may be disparate views amongst persons who form the nation. The diversity of views may relate to, not only, the static symbols, such as, the National Flag and National anthem, etc. but may also pertain to the tradition and heritage of the Nation and the manner in which they are to be taken forward. Contrarian views held by a section of people on these aspects cannot be used to describe such section or class of people as anti-national. Belligerence of views on nationalism can often lead to jingoism. There is a fine but distinct line dividing the two. Either way, views held, by any section or class of people, by itself, cannot be characterized as anti-national activities. [emphasis mine]

The Court acknowledged that this inherent vagueness had the potential to confer arbitrary discretion upon the executive which could label any activity as "anti-national" based on the subjective views of certain officers. Considering that the term was also notably absent from the enumerated list of valid grounds to restrict the freedom of movement under Article 19(2). Accordingly, to render it legal, the Court held that the meaning of anti-national must be gleaned from the rest of the clause, and thus must refer to activities such as terrorism, or counter-intelligence. 

Taking Out "Anti-National" and Restoring the Law's Legitimacy

The 42nd Amendment is considered to be the greatest frontal assault on the character of India's democracy and its Constitution. Article 31-D with its constitutional cloak of safety for statutes condemning the anti-national was an integral part of that dastardly amendment. While it may no longer be more than a footnote within the constitutional text itself, the review of statutes confirmed that the concept continues to capture the imagination of our legislatures.  

The list of statutes and subordinate legislation within which the notion of anti-national activity provided here should provoke alarm in any right-minded person to whom arbitrary executive power causes concern. What that indicative list shows is that an undefined category of "Anti-National Activity" is being used across various contexts such as criminal laws, labour laws, and social welfare laws, as a basis to confer discretionary powers upon executive officers. Exercising these powers entails arbitrarily labelling conduct with extremely pejorative connotations and tarnishing a person's reputation. Not to mention the arbitrary interference in the enjoyment of basic freedoms, and a potential to bring about life-changing consequences by stopping welfare benefits, terminating employment, or causing incarceration.

That courts have uncritically bandied about this phrase in decisions (with the honorary exception of one case) is even more alarming. It might be alright for executive authorities to use high-pitched phrases to make arguments, but it is not alright for courts to reduce a phrase with such obvious taint as an ordinary adjective to describe a garden-variety of conduct. Using vague ideas to justify conclusions means that the arbitrariness of executive officers is transplanted on to the courts. What this leads to is a situation where a Single Judge of the Delhi High Court recognises the vagueness of the "anti-national" in Priya Pillai and the potential for arbitrary discretion that it entailed. Yet, just a few months later in March 2016, a different Single Judge of the same Court passed orders in Kanhaiya Kumar's bail petition [Discussed on the blog], extensively used the same vague phrase throughout the order, and even made it a condition for granting Kumar bail that he take all steps to "control anti-national activities in the [JNU] campus". Words fail me.

A review of the decisions and statutes confirms that far from it being imperative to the functioning of our legal system, the category of "anti-national" is almost entirely unnecessary and frivolous. As identified by the Delhi High Court in Priya Pillai, it is nowhere mentioned in the enumerated grounds for restricting the basic freedoms, and can only be made sense of by being fit into one of those phrases. If that be so, what is the point of persisting with the phrase and inflicting persons with its horrible taint which they carry for years in our system of delayed justice? The value addition is extremely minimal. The damage done to the legitimacy of the law and the ideals of the Constitution, is incalculable.    

Which brings me back to the Delhi High Court's High Powered Committee. When the guideline already refused to extend temporary mercy to imprisoned persons who stand accused in riots cases, corruption cases, cases under anti-terror laws, drug cases, corruption cases, and money-laundering cases, what was left to be covered by way of this amorphous category of "Anti-National Activities"? Nothing. So why not bunk it in the next revision, and restore some bit of the law's legitimacy in the process.

Some Thoughts on the Ordinance to Protect Health Care Workers

On 22.04.2020, Ordinance No. 5 of 2020 was passed to amend the Epidemic Diseases Act, 1897. It was a response to the most recent pleas by medical professionals for greater legal protection against physical attacks. I say most recent because this issue has been raised on many a prior occasion, but it only seems to have assumed critical importance for the Union Government now (and saw the results within one day) as doctors threatened not to go to work in the midst of a pandemic.  

Attacking doctors for doing their job is unacceptable and the Ordinance certainly sends out a strong message to anyone who might do so. After all, while regular offences punishable under the Epidemic Diseases Act only attracted punishments of up to six months (at best), the Ordinance has added new offences which carry a jail term of up to five years for standard cases and up to seven years for cases with grievous hurt. There is also a stiff fine and the obligation to pay double the cost of any property damage suffered by the health workers. Surely, anyone would think twice before getting violent with doctors now.

A Temporary Solution

But, before we start high-fiving ourselves on this great new law, let's give it a more careful reading. For starters, this is not a permanent answer to the problem of violence against doctors. The Ordinance will only help doctors if they are working in times of an "Epidemic" as declared under the Epidemic Diseases Act. But, as has been mentioned above, the problem of violence against doctors is one that is not restricted to the extraordinary times we find ourselves in. 

Thus, what we actually have is a very temporary solution to what is a serious and lasting problem. And this temporary solution will become a bigger problem the moment states begin to declare that the Epidemic Diseases Act will no longer be applicable. Then, we will have a strange scenario in which the doctors in some areas will have better "protections" than others.   

The Problem with Criminalising

The fact that doctors and healthcare professionals have been the target of violence across various parts of India is a problem. But passing a law that makes such violence punishable with extremely harsh jail terms and monetary fines is hardly the answer. That healthcare professionals in India have become a soft target for violence suggests many underlying issues. It could reflect a declining trust in doctors. Or even an extreme reaction to doctors' perceived lack of respect for patients, who could be paying through their noses for medical services, and may thus be placed in an already tense situation, both emotionally and financially. 

In the context of Covid-19, the aggressive physical reactions could very well be the consequence of the disinformation that surrounds the disease and the containment measures being adopted to tackle the same. Imagine if you have just got back home after an arduous journey and have, potentially, lost your job because of the lockdown that has forced everyone indoors. You return to a setting where everyone can't stop talking about this virus, but nobody really knows what it does, or what happens to those who are found to be infected. There is no dissemination of verified information about what a quarantine means, or what the conditions of containment buildings are like. Now, if a team of persons flanked by the police come around to "test" you, is it wrong for an individual to try and avoid being tested? 

Criminalising conduct certainly sends a message. But it is a horrific answer to solve a problem that is not entirely of an individual's own making. It might quell incidents of violence against doctors, but it will not help address the mentality which is the cause of such a response. Doing something about the underlying causes would require much more effort than what it takes to simply sign off on a new law. For starters, it would require spending a lot of money on an active information campaign (something that is fairly achievable). In addition to this, it would require a governance of transparency that is open to questions, helps debunk fake news and, ultimately, forces the government to treat its citizens better (perhaps not so achievable given how the Union Government has managed the lockdown so far).  

The Problem with This Manner of Criminalising

Alas, what we are always left with is a law, which brings me to the provisions of the Ordinance. 

The new substantive offence itself is not very problematic. Section 3(2) punishes committing or abetting an "act of violence" against a healthcare service professional. The term "act of violence" goes beyond mere physical attacks and also covers harassment, and "healthcare service professional" goes beyond the medical professionals to all persons empowered under the Epidemic Act to take measures. Where the violence is of the level of causing "grievous hurt" as defined under Section 320 of the Indian Penal Code, Section 3(3) prescribes a harsher punishment. 

I will not speak here about the broad discretion on sentencing conferred by the Ordinance, nor the expropriation clause inserted to threaten individuals with seizure of their houses. Instead, my focus is purely on the problems posed by the procedure prescribed for investigating and prosecuting this new offence. 

Of course, such cases are made cognizable and non-bailable, i.e., the police can arrest persons without warrant, and bail is not a matter of right for them. Such powers are too normalised now to raise eyebrows. But, the same cannot be said about Sections 3C and 3D, both of which create presumptions about the illegal conduct in a manner almost entirely ignorant of basic criminal law and procedure.  

Section 3C

Section 3C requires that the court "shall presume" that a person committed the offence in a prosecution brought under Section 3(3) [grievous hurt caused by an act of violence committed against a healthcare service professional]. Yes, this is similar to Section 29 of the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, 2012. It is also similar to the law that Maharashtra had introduced criminalising the possession of beef. But the problem is that in both of these examples (and others), such blanket clauses which effectively shift the entire burden of proving a crime onto the accused have been held unconstitutional. 

Instead, the prosecution has been required to prove certain foundational facts, such as whether or not grievous hurt was actually caused by the accused, after which the accused is required to prove her innocence [discussed in detail here]. Based on these judgments, I would argue that Section 3C should be struck down. Even if it is not, courts rarely convict purely on the basis of this presumption (I say this based on handling / reading judgments in child sexual assault cases), which would render Section 3C ornamental at best. 

Section 3D

What makes Section 3C even more peculiar is Section 3D, which requires that the court shall presume the existence of the culpable state of mind required for committing the Section 3(3) offence fo causing "grievous hurt". As I have explained above, this is the extent to which the reverse burden clauses in other laws have been held to be valid, and one would imagine that even in cases under the Ordinance it is Section 3D which will be more important. 

But, where Section 3D parts with basic criminal procedure is by prescribing that an accused person proves that she did not have any such mental state "beyond reasonable doubt". Normally, this is the standard of proof to which the prosecution is tested in a criminal trial. Is it fair, or constitutional, to require that the accused be tested on the same burden? The Supreme Court unequivocally held in Noor Aga [(2008) 16 SCC 417] that it was not. In Noor Aga, the Court looked at Section 35(2) of the NDPS Act, 1985 which carried similar language and specifically held that the accused could not be required to establish facts by meeting this strict standard. 

It beggars belief that the Union Government would be so unaware of basic criminal procedure, which then leaves two alternatives explaining why the Ordinance has Sections 3C and 3D: (i) it is an open challenge to the legitimacy of the Supreme Court, or (ii) it is a strategic move and the government knows the law, but is still using these provisions which look harsh to score brownie points and spread fear. Both of these two alternatives are extremely distressing. 

Even otherwise, it is not a "zero cost" issue if the government repeatedly passes legislation which is, on its face, contrary to law. For the same battles that were fought earlier must now be fought again. Valuable judicial time and effort, not to mention lawyers' fee, must be spent upon merely restating the law. Passing provisions totally shifting the burden of proof on the accused will lead to the police filing chargesheets within 30 days (as required under Section 3A) with little or not facts in support of their case.

Conclusion

The new Ordinance with its harsh punishments for violence against healthcare service professionals is a great solution for governments which remain non-committal to heavy spending on social justice issues and remain antithetical to values such as transparency in governance through a crisis which has upended the lives of crores of citizens. And even though all that is required in passing a law is putting pen to paper, the Ordinance suggests that the Union Government was either ignorant of existing law or actively chose to ignore it — both of the alternatives equally damning.

Of course, the Ordinance will help prosecute persons who commit violence against doctors. But what the Ordinance has also done is tell the citizens that their fears, apprehensions, and misgivings about Covid-19 — created in no small measure due to the failure of governments to spend money and be transparent — are exclusively their problem. Any untoward (though unjustified) reactions arising as a result will not bring the government to account, but will require the citizen to prover her innocence in court. The Ordinance channels the feeling that the Maharashtra police put across bluntly: there are only two choices, lockdown or lockup.

Guest Post: Barb Wiring Free Speech — Criminal Law and Curbing Press Freedom

(I am delighted to present a guest post by Nipun Arora, an advocate practising in Delhi, and Shivkrit Rai, a law researcher at the Delhi High Court)

Recently, the Uttar Pradesh police registered a First Information Report [FIR] against journalists (of The Wire) reporting on apparent violations of the lockdown that has been ordered by the Central Government. Similarly, an FIR was registered against an elected representative from the Aam Aadmi Party (an MLA) for allegedly defaming the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. 

By no means is one state the exception here—there have been several such cases from different states across India in the past as well, with baseless FIRs being registered as part of clear attempts to stifle press freedom and rile journalists who ask uncomfortable questions. Often these incidents are discussed as part of a larger narrative on freedom of press discourse. What is often ignored is the means involved towards this end of silencing journalists: Police questionably using criminal law. This use of police machinery to hamper and obstruct journalistic freedom is a concerning issue that needs to be addressed by both, judiciary and the executive.

Abuse or Misuse? "Cognizable" Offences as Tools for Harassment

These FIRs against journalists / media houses disclose several similarities. Most importantly, we find that a majority of the offences alleged in these cases are "Non-Cognizable". This refers to that category of offences where the police cannot investigate the case without an order from the court, and thus cannot arrest suspects. 

In a bid to overcome this hurdle, we see that the police simply add one or two offences to the FIR that are "Cognizable". This mere mentioning of a particular section now allows the police to investigate the case without any judicial oversight and now the police can assume powers of arrest and detention in pursuance of the investigation. 

And, worryingly, very oftenthe cognizable offences added to the FIR are hardly applicable to the case at hand. For instance, consider the FIR filed against the Editor of Vishwani, a Karnataka based newspaper in 2019 at the behest of a complaint by the Janta Dal (Secular). Here, allegations of Criminal Breach of Trust—a cognizable offence—were added to what was (at best) a Defamation case, which is a non-cognizable offence. 

A similar trend is on display in the Uttar Pradesh cases against the Aam Aadmi Party MLA and The Wire where a cognizable offence Section 505(2) of IPC (false statement with the attempt to create enmity, hatred or ill-will between different classes), was added to circumvent the need to go the magistrate. This practice of adding cognizable offences where only non-cognizable offences are made out gives the police a cover to ‘investigate’ the case and arrest the accused.

Heightened Problems in Times of Covid-19

The only resort for the accused that remains, then, is to approach the courts, which have often made observations in such cases lambasting the police conduct of registering bogus cases that are all too clearly attempts to stifle the constitutionally protected freedom of speech and expression. Recent examples being the cases of Prashant Kanojia and Priyanka Sharma. But by the time that happens, the aggrieved individual is generally already under arrest, and thus the damage has been done. A chilling message has been sent: Dare to question, then face the music.

At the present moment, however, even approaching the courts is not possible as they have restricted their functioning to cases of utmost urgency due to the Covid-19 outbreak. The guidelines for court hearings suggest that courts are only taking up cases involving matters of life and death, and these more ordinary excess of executive power are, unfortunately, not matters that will be guaranteed a hearing in court. As a result, we find ourselves in the midst of a situation where the police have a carte blanche of sorts, rendering the already vulnerable persons in an even more precarious position.

Designing a Response? An Argument for Constitutional Torts

The much-needed structural reforms in police activity that have been recommended for decades are yet to see the light of day. While a High Court can step in and set aside the FIR in a specific case, it is clear that this strategy has failed to get the message across to police at large, as despite the repeated quashing of bogus FIRs new ones keep registered every other day. We need a different take on this problem, where state agencies are actively working towards dissuading persons from exercising their fundamental rights without any justifiable reason. 

In 1983, in a case titled Rudul Sah v. State of Bihar [(1983) 4 SCC 141], the Supreme Court had held that in cases involving violation of fundamental rights, the court can grant compensation to the victim. In cases of custodial deaths, repeatedly, the state has been held liable to pay compensation for infringing right to life under Article 21. A case of frivolous FIRs which is aimed at infringing the fundamental rights, and registered at the behest of the state itself (as opposed to being registered upon a complaint by a private person), clearly points towards the mala fide of state authorities who use the police to clamp down on press freedom. 

The courts thus need to take note of the growing tendency of the state to register, suo moto, a baseless FIR, aimed at curbing the freedom of speech, and make an attempt to curb the practice. It would be appropriate for the courts to start awarding compensation to the victim against whom the baseless FIR is registered, and to make appropriate orders of recovery of such compensation from the officer on whose instructions the baseless FIR was registered. It would ensure that only those sections which are genuinely made out are included in the FIR. Recovery of the compensation from the concerned officer would of course act as a deterrent and prevent such frivolous cases.

The need of such an institutional response becomes important because it ensures that even in extreme circumstances like the present where the functioning of the courts is also limited, such FIRs are not registered because of the deterrence created. The fear of repercussions once the courts reopen would be sufficient to dissuade an overenthusiastic officer even when the courts are closed. Such a systemic response has been a long-time due, and needs to be considered by the courts now.

Guest Post: When Might is Not Right — Police Violence and the Coronavirus Pandemic

(I am pleased to present a guest post by Shukr Usgaokar, a Fourth Year Law Student at the V.M. Salgaocar College of Law, Goa)

Since the imposition of a lockdown by the Central Government and State Governments all across India to contain the spread of Covid-19, several press reports have emerged showcasing brutalities resorted to by the authorities. Violators of the apparent “curfew” have been made to crawl on the street, do sit-ups, suffer lathi-charge, or were simply beaten black and blue by police officers. Some have argued that these are isolated incidents; others have justified such forms of punishment as a necessary-evil if the lockdown is to be effectively implemented to contain the spread of Covid-19. But the question which arises regardless is whether this use of force by the police is permissible under law, and if so, what is the magnitude of force which the law enforcement agencies are entitled to use.

No arrest, no force

Since law and order is a state subject, different states have enacted different statutes to regulate their respective police forces. The Police Act, 1861, is silent on the issue of whether and if so, under what circumstances the police officers are justified in using force while discharging their duties. The only provision that could serve as a source of power is Section 23, which simply provides that it is the duty of police officers to inter alia "detect and bring offenders to justice". 

The Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 [Cr.P.C.] is more explicit. Section 46(2), entitled “Arrest how made”, states that if the person who is to be arrested forcibly resists the endeavour to arrest him, or attempts to evade arrest, the police officer (or any other person) may use all means necessary to effect arrest. But the corollary of this provision would be that all means necessary, which would include force, are to be used only while making an arrest and that too only when the person who is to be arrested either resists the arrest or attempts to evade it.

Controlling frenzied mobs

Along with investigation of offences, the police in India have the additional function of maintaining law and order which is detailed under the 1973 Cr.P.C. Section 129 of the Cr.P.C., as the title suggests allows a police officer to use force to disperse an assembly. But there are, again, limits on how this power can be used. In Karam Singh v. Hardayal Singh [1979 Cr.L.J 1211], for instance, the Punjab & Haryana High Court culled out the three essential requirements that are ingrained in Section 129:

1. There should be an unlawful assembly with the object of committing violence or an assembly of five or more persons likely to cause a disturbance of public peace.
2. An executive magistrate should order the assembly to disperse.
3. In spite of such orders, the people do not move away.

Thus, arguably, the pith and substance of Section 129 is that force is to be resorted to as a last resort, when the crowd, which in the opinion of the Magistrate is about to disturb public peace, does not disperse, even after it is ordered to do so.

The other source of power is, obviously, Section 144 of the Cr.P.C. read together with Section 188 of the Indian Penal Code. Section 144 orders can be passed by Executive Magistrates (which includes the High-Ranking Police) to prohibit all kinds of conduct for up to 2 months, and then the defiance of such orders is rendered punishable under Section 188 of the Penal Code. Much like Section 129, the use of Section 144 also requires that certain preconditions must exist [Most recently elaborated upon by the Supreme Court in Anuradha Bhasin [Writ Petition (Civil) No. 1091/2019 (Decided on 10.01.2020)]. 

Even if we assume that a valid 144 Order has been passed, it must be established that the existence of such orders is communicated to persons, without which their so-called defiance can't be penalised. But in the present scenario, can it really be said that the orders were explained or communicated in all cases where the police went ahead to forcefully apprehend "violators"? 

How much is too much?

It might be the case that the though the use of force is justified, the quantum of force used is not. Paragraph 4 of The Basic Principles on the Use of Force and Firearms by Law Enforcement Officials which were adopted by the Eighth United Nations Congress on the Prevention of Crime and the Treatment of Offenders, Havana, Cuba in 1990 enjoins the law enforcement officials to use, as far as possible, non-violent means before resorting to the use of force and firearms. 

Even when the use of force becomes unavoidable, paragraph 5 mandates that they should exercise restraint in such use and act in proportion to the seriousness of the offence and the legitimate objective to be achieved while minimising damage and injury. The Code of Conduct for the Police in India which was formulated at the Inspector Generals of Police Conference in 1961 has been cited with approval in P. V. Kapoor v. Union of India [1992 Cr.L.J. 128 (Delhi)] and states that while maintaining law and order, the police should as far as practicable use methods of persuasion, advice and warning and when the application of force becomes inevitable, only the absolute minimum required in the circumstances should be used. 

This view was reaffirmed more recently by the Supreme Court in Anita Thakur v. Union of India [(2016) 15 SCC 585] where it was held that even when it is the agitating protesters who start pelting stones on the police, use of excessive force and misuse of power by the police amounts to not only a violation of human rights and human dignity but can give rise to liability in civil and criminal law. 

Even the imposition of Section 144 of the Cr.P.C., as has been done in several districts to enforce the lockdown, cannot serve as a licence for unchecked, violent, police action. Though the Supreme Court in Ramlila Maidan [(2012) 5 SCC 1] upheld the imposition of Section 144, it ordered disciplinary action as well as registration of criminal cases against the all the erring police personnel who had resorted to brick-batting, lathi charge and excessive use of tear gas shells upon the crowd.

It is pertinent to note that the above cases deal with action taken by the police to suppress unruly and violent mobs. It is obvious that an even lesser degree of force would be called for while arresting an offender, which is an investigative function of the police. Useful in this regard is reference to the test laid down by United States Supreme Court in Graham v. Connor [490 US 386] in 1989, which held that the officer’s actions must “objectively reasonable in the light of the facts and circumstances confronting them, without regard to their intent or motivation.”

Wits, not Fists

It is abundantly clear that the conduct of the police authorities has been grossly disproportionate and amounts to a flagrant violation of human rights of those who were at the receiving end of such treatment. As mentioned above, disobeying curfew orders can be an offence under Section 188 of the Penal Code in some cases. But even then, the correct course of action would have been to arrest the curfew violators and release them on bail since that offence is cognizable and bailable and prosecute them according to the law when normalcy is restored, rather than dish out instant justice. 

If video-clippings are to be gone by, the curfew violators were unarmed, did not attempt to evade or resist arrest. However, the police officers have, without giving any warning and in some cases without even making an arrest, mercilessly assaulted the purported offenders. 

It is disheartening to note that authorities are treating a health emergency and humanitarian crisis as if it is a law and order problem. Even if the situation is somehow brought under the purview of section 129 of the Cr.P.C, the actions of the police amount to throwing every pre-requisite to the wind. The rightful conduct would have been to order people to disperse and stay at home, if at all there was a gathering of people, the dispersal of which was necessary to prevent them from contracting the infection.

The police officials must keep in mind that citizens are not violating the curfew because they want to or because they are desirous of getting infected with the Coronavirus. They are compelled to do so in order to buy groceries, medicines and other essentials, particularly when the performance of the home delivery service has been less than satisfactory. 

Under such circumstances, the police authorities ought to show restraint, empathy and a co-operative attitude towards the citizenry rather than indulge in high-handed behaviour and unprovoked hostility. The fact that the curfew is necessary to break the chain of transmission of Covid-19 and has been imposed for the own good of the people is no excuse to use force since as per Graham’s case (supra), the intention of police is immaterial and what must be seen is whether the conduct was objectively reasonable under the circumstances. However, it would become apparent that their conduct has been anything but reasonable with even those who were exempted from the curfew such as doctors, delivery personnel and pedestrians bearing the brunt of the viciousness of the police.

This flies in the face of Article 5 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which says that no one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment. Referring to this, the Supreme Court in the celebrated case of D. K. Basu v. State of West Bengal [AIR 1997 SC 610] held that expression "life or personal liberty" in Article 21 includes the right to live with human dignity and thus it would also include within itself a guarantee against torture and assault by the State or its functionaries.

Way back in 1981, Justice V. R. Krishna Iyer commented that “Police rely more on fists than on wits, on torture more than on culture…Nothing inflicts a deeper wound on our constitutional culture than a State official running berserk regardless of human rights”. Nearly 40 years later, it would appear that not much has changed.