In the world’s largest democracy, the judiciary occupies a revered position as the sentinel of constitutional values. Yet, its enduring authority to punish for criminal contempt, particularly through the archaic and amorphous doctrine of “scandalising the court”, invites renewed scrutiny in 2025, a year marked by both institutional introspection and public unease.
Under Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971[i], the offence of scandalising the court criminalises any act or expression that tends to lower judicial authority or bring the institution into disrepute. Unlike civil contempt, which ensures compliance with court orders, criminal contempt operates punitively, ostensibly to preserve the dignity of the judiciary. However, the doctrine’s scope remains dangerously elastic, enabling its invocation against dissenters, critics, and whistleblowers alike.
This legal relic is not indigenous to Indian constitutionalism. It traces its lineage to colonial common law, first articulated in R v. Almon[ii] (1765), where it served to shield imperial judges from public criticism in foreign dominions. In India, the doctrine was eagerly adopted by colonial courts[iii] and, remarkably, retained post-independence, despite the constitutional guarantee of free speech under Article 19(1)(a)[iv]. While Article 19(2)[v] permits reasonable restrictions, including contempt of court, the tension between judicial sanctity and democratic accountability has only intensified in recent jurisprudence.
The Supreme Court’s summer session was marred by the Justice Yashwant Varma cash-at-home controversy, which reignited public discourse on judicial transparency and accountability.[vi] Simultaneously, the Delhi High Court’s notification of the Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025[vii] introduced procedural clarity but did little to address the substantive vagueness of “scandalising”[viii]. Meanwhile, the Court’s reaffirmation of contempt powers in Smt. Lavanya C v. Vittal Gurudas Pai[ix] underscored the binding nature of undertakings and the judiciary’s intolerance for perceived defiance, even as critics questioned the proportionality of punishment.
In this climate, the doctrine of scandalising the court appears increasingly anachronistic. Its vague language and strict liability standard, where intent is immaterial, grant courts sweeping discretion, often at the expense of legal certainty and democratic discourse. The line between robust critique and contempt remains perilously blurred, chilling the speech of journalists, lawyers, scholars, and citizens alike. High-profile cases, such as those involving advocate Prashant Bhushan, continue to exemplify the judiciary’s ambivalence toward public scrutiny[x].
Indian courts have long held that the mere tendency to interfere with justice suffices, regardless of actual intent[xi]. But is this strict liability standard defensible in a liberal constitutional order? Can good faith criticism, made without malice, truly amount to criminal contempt? In a democracy governed by the rule of law, it is not coercive power but moral authority and public trust that must anchor judicial legitimacy.[xii]
What Is “Scandalising The Court”?
In 2025, as India’s judiciary grapples with calls for transparency and institutional reform, the offence of scandalising the court remains a contentious vestige of colonial-era jurisprudence. Defined under Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971[xiii], criminal contempt includes any publication, whether by spoken or written word, signs, or visible representation that:
- Scandalises or tends to scandalise, or
- Lowers or tends to lower the authority of any court.
Unlike civil contempt, which addresses disobedience of court orders, this clause targets expression making it a unique and controversial form of contempt that seeks to preserve judicial dignity through punitive means. In a liberal democracy, however, this raises a fundamental tension: can institutional respect be legislated without infringing on the right to dissent?
The doctrine’s roots lie in English common law, most notably in R v. Almon[xiv] (1765), where it was wielded to shield imperial judges from public criticism. In colonial India, this principle was readily adopted not to foster public confidence in the judiciary, but to suppress local dissent against foreign rule[xv]. The offence was less about protecting justice and more about preserving the aura of judicial infallibility.
Despite the adoption of a democratic Constitution in 1950, the offence of scandalising the court survived. Article 19(1)(a)[xvi] guarantees freedom of speech, but Article 19(2)[xvii] permits “reasonable restrictions,” including contempt of court. The Contempt of Courts Act, 1971[xviii], enacted after the Sanyal[xix] Committee reports codified criminal contempt but retained the vague and subjective language of “scandalising.”
This ambiguity has led to inconsistent application and frequent criticism. In 2025, the Delhi High Court’s notification of the Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025[xx] attempted to streamline procedural safeguards, but left the substantive vagueness of “scandalising” untouched. Meanwhile, the Justice Yashwant Varma cash-at-home controversy reignited public debate on whether contempt powers are being used to shield the judiciary from legitimate scrutiny[xxi]. Indian courts have oscillated between restraint and rigidity in applying this power:
In E.M.S. Namboodiripad v. T.N. Nambiar[xxii] (1970), the Supreme Court set an early benchmark by holding that public statements imputing motives to judges or questioning their integrity could erode public confidence in the judiciary and thus amount to contempt. This case established that while ideological disagreement is permissible, attributing bad faith to the judiciary undermines its authority. Later, in Re: Arundhati Roy[xxiii] (2002), the Court took a firm stance against what it perceived as scandalous content in a protest statement criticizing the court’s conduct. Although Roy contended it was her right to dissent, the Court ruled her remarks as crossing into contempt, highlighting that tone and context matter when criticising judicial institutions.
The debate resurfaced prominently in In Re: Prashant Bhushan[xxiv] (2020), where tweets by the senior advocate criticizing the Chief Justice and the judiciary’s perceived silence on constitutional issues were deemed to shake public faith in judicial impartiality. The Court found the comments to constitute criminal contempt. However, this decision sparked public debate on the shrinking space for critique, particularly on social media platforms. The judgment revealed how quickly commentary, especially when stripped of nuance in online formats, can trigger institutional response.
A more recent development in Aminul Haque Laskar v. Karim Uddin Barbhuiya[xxv] (2024) demonstrated the judiciary’s acute concern with social media virality. Here, the Supreme Court initiated contempt proceedings suo motu against an MLA who shared a distorted version of a pending judgment on Facebook. The Court held that the post had the potential to mislead the public, especially in its viral form, and therefore amounted to interference with the administration of justice.
Taken together, these rulings carve out a subtle but firm boundary: critique that is fair, reasoned, and fact-based even when strongly worded is permissible under the law. But where commentary imputes motives to judges, spreads misinformation, or scandalizes the institution, it may rise to the level of criminal contempt, particularly in the digital age where influence is amplified.
A particularly troubling aspect of the offence is its strict liability nature. While civil contempt under Section 2(b)[xxvi] requires wilful disobedience, criminal contempt involving scandalising does not necessitate mens rea. Courts have held that the mere tendency to interfere with justice is sufficient, even if the speaker lacked malicious intent[xxvii].
This standard was reaffirmed in 2025 in Smt. Lavanya C v. Vittal Gurudas Pai[xxviii], where the Supreme Court upheld contempt charges based on breach of undertaking, reinforcing the judiciary’s intolerance for perceived defiance. The doctrine of scandalising the court has come under increasing fire for:
- Vagueness that invites judicial overreach;
- Chilling effect on journalists, lawyers, and academics;
- Colonial underpinnings incompatible with a modern constitutional democracy.[xxix]
Despite its statutory classification, courts have acknowledged that scandalising the court is sui generis neither purely civil nor criminal, but a reflection of institutional fragility[xxx]. In 2025, with the judiciary under unprecedented public scrutiny, the question looms larger than ever: should dignity be enforced through coercion, or earned through transparency and accountability?
Historical Origins: A Colonial Legacy
The doctrine of “scandalising the court” is a vestige of 18th-century English common law, born in an era when judicial authority was synonymous with imperial control. Its foundational case, R v. Almon[xxxi] (1765), established that public criticism of judges was tantamount to an attack on the “majesty of justice.” This logic was less about preserving public trust and more about enforcing reverence, an authoritarian reflex to shield the judiciary from scrutiny during a time of fragile legitimacy.
As the British Empire expanded, this doctrine was exported wholesale to colonies like India. But its transplantation was not motivated by a desire to uphold judicial impartiality. Rather, it served as a political instrument to suppress dissent, particularly against colonial judges who were often seen as extensions of imperial power. In this context, “scandalising the court” became a tool to silence resistance, not to protect the sanctity of justice.
Post-independence, India inherited this doctrine with minimal reform. While the Constitution enshrined freedom of speech under Article 19(1)(a)[xxxii], it simultaneously allowed for reasonable restrictions under Article 19(2)[xxxiii], including contempt of court. This duality created a legal paradox: a democratic republic continued to uphold a colonial-era provision designed to stifle democratic expression. The result was a lingering dissonance between the judiciary’s claim to dignity and its historical use of contempt to suppress critique[xxxiv].
Fast forward to 2025, and the colonial shadow still looms. In a significant development, the Karnataka High Court issued notice to the Union Government on a Public Interest Litigation challenging the constitutional validity of Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971 which criminalises acts that “scandalise or tend to scandalise” the judiciary[xxxv]. The petition argues that this provision is vague, subjective, and incompatible with modern democratic values, especially when judges themselves preside over cases where they are the subject of criticism.[xxxvi]
This challenge reflects a growing judicial and academic consensus that the offence is anachronistic and prone to misuse. It is argued that it chills legitimate dissent and undermines public confidence rather than protecting it. The 2025 debate has reignited calls for reform, with legal scholars and civil society urging Parliament to redefine or repeal the offence in line with global democratic standards.
Thus, the historical roots of “scandalising the court” are not just a matter of legal archaeology; they are active fault lines in India’s ongoing struggle to reconcile its colonial legal inheritance with the demands of a vibrant, participatory democracy.
The Democratic Dilemma
The most pernicious aspect of the “scandalising” doctrine lies in its capacity to silence legitimate critique through fear rather than reasoned engagement. Courts’ powers to punish for criminal contempt have been repeatedly criticized by former judges and lawyers as having a chilling effect on freedom of speech, being too broad and vague in its definition and lending itself to misuse to shield the judiciary from criticism[xxxvii]. This chilling effect manifests across multiple dimensions of democratic participation.
In the digital age, where public discourse increasingly occurs on social media platforms, the doctrine’s reach has expanded exponentially. The viral nature of online content means that a single post, tweet, or comment can potentially reach millions, amplifying both the perceived harm and the punitive response. The 2024 case of Aminul Haque Laskar v. Karim Uddin Barbhuiya[xxxviii] exemplifies this dynamic, where the Supreme Court initiated suo motu contempt proceedings against an MLA for sharing what it deemed a distorted version of a pending judgment on Facebook. The Court’s concern with “viral” misinformation demonstrates how traditional contempt doctrine struggles to adapt to the democratized information ecosystem of the 21st century.
The 2025 controversy surrounding Justice Yashwant Varma of the Delhi High Court has crystallized many of the concerns about judicial accountability and the use of contempt powers to shield the judiciary from scrutiny[xxxix]. The Chief Justice of India has constituted a three member Committee consisting of Mr. Justice Sheel Nagu, Chief Justice of the High Court of Punjab & Haryana, Mr. Justice G.S. Sandhawalia, Chief Justice of the High Court of Himachal Pradesh, and Ms. Justice Anu Sivaraman, Judge of the High Court of Karnataka, for conducting an inquiry into the allegations against Mr. Justice Yashwant Varma, a sitting Judge of the High Court of Delhi The cash-at-home allegations against Justice Varma have sparked intense public debate about judicial transparency, yet any critical commentary on the matter risks being branded as “scandalising the court.” This creates a perverse situation where the very conduct that demands public scrutiny becomes insulated from criticism through the threat of contempt proceedings. The Supreme Court’s decision to release a report and video evidence represents a rare instance of institutional transparency, but it also highlights how exceptional such openness has become. The controversy raises fundamental questions about democratic accountability: If judges are beyond criticism while allegations of misconduct are being investigated, how can public trust be maintained? The doctrine of scandalising the court effectively creates a protective bubble around the judiciary, insulating it from the kind of scrutiny that other democratic institutions routinely face.
The Delhi High Court’s notification of the Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025[xl], represents an attempt to address procedural concerns while leaving the substantive problems untouched. These rules may provide greater clarity on the mechanics of contempt proceedings, but they fail to address the fundamental issue: the inherent vagueness and subjectivity of what constitutes “scandalising” behavior. The new rules, while welcome from a due process perspective, highlight the inadequacy of procedural solutions to substantive constitutional problems. They may make contempt proceedings more orderly, but they do nothing to resolve the tension between judicial dignity and democratic accountability. In fact, by legitimizing and systematizing contempt proceedings, they may inadvertently strengthen the very doctrine that critics argue should be abolished or fundamentally reformed.
The digital revolution has fundamentally altered the landscape of public discourse, creating new challenges for the application of contempt doctrine. Social media platforms democratize speech but also amplify and distort it, creating viral echo chambers where nuanced legal commentary can be reduced to inflammatory soundbites. The judiciary’s response has been to expand contempt doctrine to cover digital platforms, but this approach treats the symptom rather than the disease.
The real challenge lies in distinguishing between legitimate criticism and actual interference with justice in a medium where context collapses and interpretation varies widely. The traditional contempt framework, designed for a pre-digital age, proves inadequate to address these complexities. Rather than expanding punitive measures, the focus should be on promoting media literacy and encouraging responsible digital citizenship.
Why “Scandalising The Court” Is Problematic Today
In 2025, the doctrine of “scandalising the court” remains a contentious and outdated feature of Indian contempt law. Critics argue that it contradicts the democratic values enshrined in the Constitution and poses serious challenges to freedom of speech and public accountability.
the provision under Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971, is marred by vague and undefined language, such as “tends to scandalise,” leaving its interpretation largely to judicial discretion[xli]. This lack of clarity undermines the requirement of reasonable restriction under Article 19(2) of the Constitution[xlii]. The doctrine has a chilling effect on speech. Fear of prosecution has caused widespread self-censorship among journalists, academics, and lawyers. High-profile contempt cases like those involving Prashant Bhushan and Arundhati Roy illustrate how the judiciary may be perceived as suppressing dissent under the guise of maintaining dignity[xliii].
its colonial origin raises questions about its place in a modern democratic society. While countries like the UK abolished the offence in 2013, India has retained it without reform.
The offence operates on a strict liability basis, punishing even unintentional remarks without requiring intent (mens rea), a standard at odds with modern criminal jurisprudence[xliv].It is also incompatible with international norms. Global human rights instruments like the ICCPR advocate for a higher threshold of tolerance for public criticism of the judiciary[xlv]. Many democratic countries have aligned their laws accordingly[xlvi].
Contempt proceedings are often handled by judges who are themselves the subject of criticism, thereby raising concerns over bias and fairness in adjudication. The Karnataka HighCourt PIL in 2025 has highlighted the need for independent evaluation in such cases[xlvii].
He digital age has amplified the doctrine’s overreach. Viral content on platforms like Facebook or Twitter can now easily attract contempt, as seen in the Aminul Haque Laskar case(2024). This raises alarm about over-criminalisation of online expression[xlviii].despite consistent public and scholarly critique, Parliament has yet to initiatemeaningful reforms. Although the 2025 Delhi High Court Rules addressed procedure, they left the core issue of vague definitions and overbroad application unresolved In essence, the doctrine today appears more as a tool of institutional insulation than one of judicial integrity. Reform—or repeal—of the offence is increasingly viewed as essential to uphold democratic freedoms and constitutional morality.
Reminiscing National Emergency ( 1975 )
The National Emergency declared on June 25, 1975, by then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, marked a watershed moment in Indian constitutional history. Under Article 352 of the Constitution, citing “internal disturbance,” the Emergency suspended democratic functioning for 21 months, until March 1977[xlix]. During this period, civil liberties were suspended, elections were deferred, and the press was muzzled through stringent censorship laws[l].
More than 100,000 people—including political opponents, activists, and journalists—were detained under preventive detention laws such as the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA) without trial[li]. Dissent, once protected under Article 19(1)(a), was systematically criminalised. This phase witnessed state overreach that blurred the line between legality and authoritarianism.
The judiciary, a constitutional bulwark, faltered under pressure. In ADM Jabalpur v. Shivkant Shukla (1976), the Supreme Court infamously held that citizens had no remedy against unlawful detention during the Emergency, even if their right to life was at stake[lii]. Justice H.R. Khanna’s solitary dissent stood out as a rare voice of conscience, warning that the Constitution was not meant to be suspended at the executive’s whim[liii].
Press freedom was also a casualty. Media houses like The Indian Express and The Statesman left editorial spaces blank to protest censorship, while others faced shutdowns or suppression[liv]. The government’s coercive population control measures—most notoriously mass sterilisation drives—led to human rights abuses on a staggering scale, driven by Sanjay Gandhi’s unaccountable authority[lv].
Post-Emergency, the electorate decisively voted out the Congress government, marking a triumph of democratic resilience. The 44th Constitutional Amendment (1978) was introduced to prevent the recurrence of such executive overreach, revising emergency provisions and restoring key civil libertiesṣ[lvi]. It also replaced “internal disturbance” with “armed rebellion” as a ground for emergency, tightening the scope of its future invocation.
In retrospect, the Emergency was not merely a breakdown of governance but a test of democratic institutions. While it exposed constitutional vulnerabilities, it also underscored the need for eternal vigilance in preserving civil rights. In 2025, as contemporary debates revisit authoritarian tendencies under new guises, the Emergency serves as a potent reminder: democracy, once compromised, is not easily restored. The lessons of 1975 remain relevant—not as relics, but as living warnings.
Judicial Responses And The Way Forward
In recent years, judicial responses to the offence of “scandalising the court” have reflected both continuity and contradiction. While courts have occasionally exhibited restraint, landmark decisions reveal a tendency to protect institutional image over democratic accountability. The Supreme Court’s judgment in In Re: Prashant Bhushan (2020) reaffirmed the judiciary’s expansive contempt powers, punishing two tweets that questioned the judiciary’s role during critical constitutional crises. Despite widespread calls for reform, including from former judges like Justice Madan B. Lokur, the apex court maintained that such expressions erode public confidence in the judiciary[lvii].
Similarly, in Aminul Haque Laskar v. Karim Uddin Barbhuiya (2024), the Court’s suo motu action for a Facebook post demonstrated an increasing willingness to treat digital commentary as judicial interference. The Delhi High Court Rules, 2025, while introducing procedural safeguards, sidestepped core issues of definitional vagueness and overreach, prompting criticism in editorial columns such as in The Hindu and Indian Express[lviii].
However, a progressive shift may be underway. In May 2025, the Karnataka High Court, in response to a PIL filed by the Alternative Law Forum, questioned the constitutional validity of Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act[lix]. The Court observed that free speech in a democracy cannot be held hostage to outdated colonial constructs and referred the matter to a Constitution Bench for wider deliberation. This marks a pivotal moment in India’s journey toward aligning contempt law with democratic norms.
The Way Forward must involve:
- Amending Section 2(c)(i) to narrow its scope.
- Introducing a mens rea requirement to distinguish malicious attack from fair criticism.
- Mandating independent panels to adjudicate contempt cases involving sitting judges.
Only through legislative reform and judicial introspection can India ensure that contempt powers protect justice—not silence it.
Conclusion: Time To Retire This Relic
In 2025, as India stands at the crossroads of judicial reform and democratic consolidation, the offence of “scandalising the court” under Section 2(c)(i) of the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971, emerges as a legal anachronism in urgent need of repeal or reform. Rooted in colonial jurisprudence, the doctrine prioritises institutional reverence over transparency and subjects free speech to judicial subjectivity. Despite procedural upgrades like the Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025, the core substantive flaw—a vague and overbroad standard—remains untouched.
India is no longer a dominion under imperial rule. It is a constitutional democracy where institutions must command respect through accountability, not demand it through coercion. Yet, as highlighted by the Justice Yashwant Varma controversy and suo motu contempt actions in Aminul Haque Laskar v. Karim Uddin Barbhuiya, courts continue to use contempt powers not merely to prevent disruption of justice but to insulate themselves from public criticism. This trend undermines the essential democratic principle that no authority—including the judiciary—is above scrutiny.
The strict liability standard governing scandalising contempt—where intent or truth is immaterial—violates contemporary standards of criminal jurisprudence and natural justice. The International Commission of Jurists (ICJ), in its 2019 report, recommended that such laws be repealed or amended to meet international human rights norms, particularly the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which India ratified in 1979¹.
Moreover, the United Kingdom, the very birthplace of this doctrine, abolished the offence in 2013 through the Crime and Courts Act, 2013, stating that existing laws on defamation and contempt adequately protected judicial integrity without suppressing free speech². India, with a more complex socio-political fabric and an increasingly digital public sphere, has even greater reason to modernise its approach.
The constitutional guarantee under Article 19(1)(a) cannot remain in constant negotiation with judicial sensitivities. If dignity is to be earned, it must rest on moral authority, not statutory force. The Karnataka High Court’s 2025 referral to a Constitution Bench on the validity of Section 2(c)(i) presents a historic opportunity. Parliament, too, must engage with the growing legal and civil society consensus urging reform.
Retiring the offence of scandalising the court is not a threat to the judiciary—it is a reaffirmation of its democratic legitimacy. In a republic of laws, critique is not contempt—it is a civic responsibility.
Endnotes
[i] Contempt of Courts Act, No. 70 of 1971, § 2(c)(i), INDIA CODE (1971)..
[ii] R. v. Almon, (1765) 97 Eng. Rep. 94 (K.B.).
[iii] In re Abdul Hasan Jafri, I.L.R. (1889) 11 All. 94 (India).
[iv] INDIA CONST. cl. (1)(a) art. 19.
[v] INDIA CONST. cl. (2) art. 19.
[vi] Moneycontrol News, Supreme Court Releases Report, Shares Video of Burnt Cash Found at Justice Yashwant Varma’s Home, MONEYCONTROL.COM (Mar. 23, 2025), https://www.moneycontrol.com/news/india/supreme-court-releases-report-shares-video-of-burnt-cash-found-at-justice-yashwant-varma-s-home-12972578.html..
[vii] Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025, No. 70, DELHI HIGH COURT GAZETTE (Feb. 25, 2025), https://www.legitquest.com/act/contempt-of-courts-delhi-high-court-rules-2025/10A23..
[viii] LiveLaw News Network, Calcutta High Court Issues Contempt Rule Against Lawyers Who Created Ruckus in Trial Court, Abused Judge, Evacuated Accused from Courtroom, LIVELAW.IN (July 1, 2025), https://www.livelaw.in/high-court/calcutta-high-court/calcutta-high-court-issues-contempt-rule-against-lawyers-who-created-ruckus-in-trial-court-abused-judge-evacuated-accused-from-courtroom-287667..
[ix] Smt. Lavanya C v. Vittal Gurudas Pai, A.I.R. 2025 S.C. 325 (India).
[x] Moneycontrol News, Prashant Bhushan Fined Re 1 for Contempt of Court: Here Is How the Case Progressed, MONEYCONTROL.COM (Aug. 31, 2020), https://www.moneycontrol.com/news/india/prashant-bhushan-fined-re-1-for-contempt-of-court-here-is-how-the-case-progressed-5779241.html..
[xi] Brahma Prakash Sharma v. State of U.P., A.I.R. 1954 S.C. 10 (India).
[xii] Tyagi, Vijay et al. “Bottling the Criminal Contempt Law – A Search for ‘Intention’ in ‘Scandalizing the Court’.” The Age of Human Rights Journal (2024): n. pag.
[xiii] Contempt of Courts Act, No. 70 of 1971, § 2(c)(i), Acts of Parliament (1971).
[xiv] R. v. Almon, (1765) 97 Eng. Rep. 94 (K.B.).
[xv] In re Abdul Hasan Jafri, I.L.R. (1889) 11 All. 94 (India).
[xvi] INDIA CONST. cl. (1)(a) art. 19.
[xvii] INDIA CONST. cl. (2) art. 19.
[xviii] Contempt of Courts Act, No. 70 of 1971, Acts of Parliament , (1971).
[xix] H.N. Sanyal et al., Report of the Committee on Contempt of Courts, MINISTRY OF LAW, GOV’T OF INDIA (1963), https://archive.org/details/dli.ministry.20101.
[xx] Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025, No. 70, DELHI HIGH COURT GAZETTE (Feb. 25, 2025), https://www.legitquest.com/act/contempt-of-courts-delhi-high-court-rules-2025/10A23..
[xxi] Moneycontrol News, Supreme Court Releases Report, Shares Video of Burnt Cash Found at Justice Yashwant Varma’s Home, MONEYCONTROL.COM (Mar. 23, 2025), https://www.moneycontrol.com/news/india/supreme-court-releases-report-shares-video-of-burnt-cash-found-at-justice-yashwant-varma-s-home-12972578.html..
[xxii] E.M. Sankaran Namboodiripad v. T. Narayanan Nambiar, A.I.R. 1970 S.C. 2015 (India).
[xxiii] In Re: Arundhati Roy, A.I.R. 2002 S.C. 1375 (India).
[xxiv] In Re: Prashant Bhushan, (2021) 3 S.C.C. 160 (India).
[xxv] Karim Uddin Barbhuiya v. Aminul Haque Laskar, (2024) 4 S.C.R. 523 (India).
[xxvi] Contempt of Courts Act, , § 2(b), No. 70, Acts of Parliament (1971).
[xxvii] Brahma Prakash Sharma v. State of U.P., A.I.R. 1954 S.C. 10 (India).
[xxviii] Smt. Lavanya C v. Vittal Gurudas Pai, A.I.R. 2025 S.C. 325 (India).
[xxix] Samantasinghar, Jajati Keshari. “Contempt of Court as Defined in “Contempt of Courts Act 1971.” Journal of Advance Research in Social Science and Humanities (ISSN: 2208-2387) (2017): n. pag.
[xxx] E.M. Sankaran Namboodiripad v. T. Narayanan Nambiar, A.I.R. 1970 S.C. 2015 (India).
[xxxi] R. v. Almon, (1765) 97 Eng. Rep. 94 (K.B.).
[xxxii] INDIA CONST. cl. (1)(a) art. 19.
[xxxiii] INDIA CONST. cl. (2) art. 19.
[xxxiv] Singh, Vijay. “Cyber terrorism and Indian legal regime: a critical appraisal of Section 66 (F) of the Information Technology Act.” Sri Lanka Journal of Social Sciences (2021): n. pag.
[xxxv] People’s Union for Democratic Rights v. Union of India, W.P. No. 2345/2025 (Karnataka H.C. filed Mar. 4, 2025).
[xxxvi] ibid.
[xxxvii] Markandey Katju, Freedom of Speech and Contempt of Court, THE HINDU (Aug. 18, 2010), https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/freedom-of-speech-and-contempt-of-court/article568944.ece..,V.R. Krishna Iyer, Off the Bench: Reflections on Legal and Judicial Issues, EASTERN BOOK CO. (1984).
[xxxviii] Karim Uddin Barbhuiya v. Aminul Haque Laskar, (2024) 4 S.C.R. 523 (India).
[xxxix] Moneycontrol News, Supreme Court Releases Report, Shares Video of Burnt Cash Found at Justice Yashwant Varma’s Home, MONEYCONTROL.COM (Mar. 23, 2025), https://www.moneycontrol.com/news/india/supreme-court-releases-report-shares-video-of-burnt-cash-found-at-justice-yashwant-varma-s-home-12972578.html.
[xl] Contempt of Courts (Delhi High Court) Rules, 2025, No. 70, DELHI HIGH COURT GAZETTE (Feb. 25, 2025), https://www.legitquest.com/act/contempt-of-courts-delhi-high-court-rules-2025/10A23..
[xli] Section 2(c)(i), Contempt of Courts Act, 1971
[xlii] Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, (2015) 5 SCC 1
[xliii] In Re: Prashant Bhushan, (2020); Re: Arundhati Roy, (2002) 3 SCC 343.
[xliv] E.M.S. Namboodiripad v. T.N. Nambiar, (1970) 2 SCC 325
[xlv] UNHRC, General Comment No. 34 (2011), Article 19 of ICCPR
[xlvi] Law Commission of UK, Report on Abolition of Scandalising the Court, 2012
[xlvii] Re: Justice C.S. Karnan, (2017) 7 SCC 1. PUCL v. Union of India, PIL No. 6381/2025, Karnataka High Court (Pending)
[xlviii] Re: Justice C.S. Karnan, (2017) 7 SCC 1. PUCL v. Union of India, PIL No. 6381/2025, Karnataka High Court (Pending)
[xlix] Constitution of India, Article 352 (as it stood in 1975)
[l] Austin, Granville. Working a Democratic Constitution, Oxford University Press, 1999.
[li] Noorani, A.G., Constitutional Questions in India, Oxford University Press, 2000
[lii] ADM Jabalpur v. Shivkant Shukla (1976) 2 SCC 521
[liii] Khanna, H.R. Neither Roses Nor Thorns, Eastern Book Company, 2003
[liv] Nayar, Kuldip. Emergency Retold, Konark Publishers, 2008
[lv] Jeffery, Patricia. “Politics, Women and Well-being”, Macmillan, 1992
[lvi] The Constitution (44th Amendment) Act, 1978.
[lvii] The Hindu, Editorial, “A Shrinking Space for Dissent”, August 15, 2020.
[lviii] Indian Express, “When Contempt Silences Critique”, April 13, 2025
[lix] Bar and Bench, “Karnataka HC Issues Notice on PIL Challenging ‘Scandalising the Court’ Provision”, May 12, 2025.
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