Pavan K. Varma | Did Assam CM Overreact To Criticism From Oppn. Leader?

It is a measure of how far we have drifted from the moral and constitutional compass of our Republic that we must now discuss a new phenomenon — state police forces being dispatched across state borders to arrest persons whose principal ‘crime’ seems to be criticism of a chief minister or a ruling dispensation. What was once the preserve of banana republics — invoking the might of the State to silence dissenters — has now made its home in the world’s largest democracy.

The allegations made by Pawan Khera, the head of the Congress media cell, against Himanta Biswa Sarma, the chief minister of Assam, may be true, false or somewhere in between. If false, he must face the legal consequences. Therefore, the legally correct response by Mr Sarma to what he avers is an unfounded allegation is threefold: to refute it with facts, to file a defamation case if genuinely aggrieved, or to ignore it with the dignity that comes from confidence. But Mr Sarma chose a fourth option: he sent a posse of policemen from Assam to the residence of Mr Khera to arrest him, displaying an intimidatory and undemocratic hubris whose sub-text is: how dare you accuse me, an all-powerful CM? Frankly, the action was colonial in spirit, reminiscent of the old zamindars who sent their retainers to recover tribute from defiant vassals. It shrank the moral stature of governance into the pettiness of vendetta.

Mr Sarma is not the only such offender. I recall the case of my dearest friend Vinod Dua, one of the country’s most respected journalists. Dua most unfortunately passed away during Covid, but I still remember the harassment he faced when police from Himachal Pradesh attempted to arrest him in Delhi merely for critical remarks against the chief minister. There was also the well-known case of Jignesh Mewani, the Gujarat political leader, who was also arrested by the Assam police for making a critical remark against PM Narendra Modi. In April 2022, Mr Mewani, an MLA, was arrested, spirited away to Assam, produced in court, and put in judicial and police custody, until after an initial refusal, he finally got bail. The entire episode carried the odour of the muscularisation of political ego — sending police battalions as emissaries of personal hurt.

The justification for such high handedness is often legalistic: that a First Information Report (FIR) has been lodged, and the law must take its course. But the sanctity of law lies not in its letter alone but in its spirit. The police are not meant to be instruments of partisan vengeance. They exist to protect the rule of law, not to serve as a private militia for the politically powerful. The ‘law taking its course’, when manipulated, becomes a travesty — deployed not to serve justice but to inflict punishment through process.

What happens when such power is abused? The dissenting voice is criminalised, not countered. The individual is picked up from his or her home, dragged across the country to face charges whose sole purpose is intimidation. Bail becomes a luxury; incarceration becomes the weapon. The message to others is unmistakable — criticise at your peril. You may not be convicted, but the process becomes the punishment. The courts may eventually intervene, but long after reputations are sullied, livelihoods disrupted, morale shattered, and any future dissenting voices cautioned to prefer the safer haven of silence.

Can this be what our Republic had in mind? Dr Ambedkar, while crafting the Constitution, warned against the tyranny of the executive. The police, as an arm of that executive, were to be agents of law, not of politics. When the police apparatus crosses borders in pursuit of someone whose ‘offence’ is considered by the powerful as ‘offensive’, one must ask: are we upholding the law or weaponising it?

The real irony — as stated — is that this subversion is cloaked in legality. Yes, technically, a state police force can register an FIR and pursue an accused even beyond its borders. But such instruments were designed for grave crimes — murder, terrorism, organised fraud — not for dealing with speech and opinion. When they are invoked against journalists, satirists, or opposition figures, the misuse becomes self-evident.

The beauty of democracy lies not in unanimity but in discord. It thrives on criticism, on dissenting voices that question power. A healthy polity must develop a thick skin; it must know to respond to criticism with reason, not repression. Such misuse is not partisan; it transcends party lines. Today’s victim could be tomorrow’s perpetrator. The erosion of democratic ethos happens incrementally, often under the justification of ‘law and order’. But law and order are not ends in themselves — they are means to secure freedom and justice. When they are hijacked to silence criticism, democracy dies not with a bang, but with the quiet scratch of a FIR for political reprisal.

How do we arrest this descent? First, the Supreme Court must lay down strict guidelines on the inter-state use of police powers, especially in cases relating to speech or political commentary. A broad legal principle must be reaffirmed — that the exercise of arrest powers cannot exceed the bounds of necessity and proportionality. Second, the courts must hold personally accountable those officials and complainants who initiate frivolous FIRs in bad faith. When misuse carries no consequence, impunity becomes habit. The recognition of mala fide intent must lead to penalties and disciplinary action. Third, Parliament must revisit the colonial provisions of defamation and sedition — still surviving, despite their misuse — and circumscribe their scope. The right to free speech under Article 19(1)(a) cannot be hollowed out by the subjective sensitivities of those in power. Fourth, civil society and the media must summon the courage to speak out collectively.

Finally, those who govern must remember that strength in democracy flows not from coercion, but from consent. The State that fears criticism betrays its own insecurity. The leader who sends police officers to arrest words reveals a lack of faith in his own arguments. Such practices must end if we want to genuinely protect the integrity and credibility of our democracy.