Source: https://indconlawphil.wordpress.com/category/free-speech/
Timestamp: 2019-04-21 21:06:08+00:00

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The electoral bonds scheme was introduced by the 2017 Finance Act, challenged before the Supreme Court in 2018, and made headlines in 2019 when the court finally began hearing the matter and passed an interim order. Briefly, the scheme allows individuals and companies to purchase “electoral bonds” issued by the State Bank of India and subsequently donate the bonds to a political party. Under the scheme, only a political party registered under the Representation of People’s Act 1951 (RPA) is eligible to receive and encash electoral bonds. Electoral bonds are therefore bespoke campaign finance instruments to allow donors, or ‘contributors’, to contribute to political parties. The bonds are issued in denominations ranging from one thousand rupees up to one crore.
One of the grounds on which the scheme has been challenged is that citizens have a right to know the identity of the contributors and the amounts being contributed to each party. In its interim order, the Supreme Court required all political parties to submit to the court (in a sealed cover) the details of money received under the electoral bonds scheme.
On this blog we discussed the concerns raised by the Supreme Court’s interim order (here). In this post I argue that the electoral bonds are part of a more comprehensive legislative agenda which increases the overall volume of campaign contributions and decreases the information voters have about these contributions. I then examine whether the electoral bonds scheme is constitutional in light of the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence on a citizen’s “right to know” under Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution. Exploring the rationale behind a voter’s “right to know”, I argue that disclosing campaign contributions is necessary because it allows voters to better understand a candidate or party’s position on important issues and evaluate whether a candidate (and eventually, elected official) is “too compliant” with the wishes of their contributors.
The current government has made several changes to campaign finance laws in the last two years. Firstly, the government removed the cap on corporate donations contained in Section 182 of the Companies Act 2013 under which a company could not contribute more than 7.5% of its net profits for the previous three years. The amendment also removed the requirement that companies disclose the total amount contributed and identity of the political party that the company contributed to. There is now no cap on how much money a company can contribute to a political party. Further, by removing the requirement that the political contributions must come from profits, there is a risk that donors set up shell companies that do not actually conduct any legitimate business but exist solely to funnel money to political parties.
The government also amended the Foreign Contributions Registration Act (FCRA). Under the FCRA as it stood before the amendment, companies that were more than 50% foreign owned were prohibited from donating (or “contributing”) to political parties. The amendments removed this 50% threshold, permitting companies that are 100% foreign owned to contribute to political parties.
Circling back to the electoral bonds scheme, prior to the amendments by the government, political parties were required to report all contributions over twenty thousand rupees (under Section 29C of the RPA) and keep a record of the name and address of all such contributors (under Section 13A of the Income Tax Act). Under the government’s amendments, both these reporting requirements were removed in the case of contributions made through electoral bonds.
Thus, it is important to recognise that electoral bonds are part of a sustained and comprehensive legislative agenda that is likely to see a significant increase in campaign contributions to Indian political parties and a significant decrease of information about these contributions to voters. As I argue below, both these outcomes have consequences on the functioning of democracy under the Constitution.
Campaign finance is a vast and nuanced area of law and political theory, and the intention here is merely to touch on a few simple points to provide context to the legislative changes introduced by the government. Firstly, a core tenet of democracy is that citizens collectively choose a representative government. Only a government chosen by the citizens is legitimate. Therefore, the process by which citizens choose their representatives (elections) is of paramount important. If elections do not provide citizens with a free and fair method of selecting a candidate of their choice, then the elected government cannot be said to be chosen by the people, and would be illegitimate.
Elections in all countries cost money. However, methods of financing elections vary greatly, from systems of publicly funded elections, to systems of unlimited private contributions. India is somewhere in the middle, private contributions are permitted, but spending by political candidates is capped. In a system where public money is used to finance elections, voters have no interest in knowing how candidates are financed, because all candidates are using public money. However, as we move towards private contributions, and unrestricted private contributions, things get a bit trickier. Where private contributions are permitted, who is funding a candidate becomes an essential part of the candidate’s platform, because contributors will donate to candidates who support their ideas, and candidates may even modify their ideas to secure funding. Thus, a candidate’s stance on issues and who is funding them becomes intricately linked. Thus, in an electoral system where candidates are privately funded (and as I argue in detail below) voters do have an interest in knowing who is funding a candidate.
The real problem that that campaign contributions can raise is a “quid-pro-quo” deal. Where a candidate takes money from a contributor, and once elected, votes in favour of laws that benefit the contributor. This concern is articulated by the U.S. Supreme Court in Nixon v Shrink Missouri Government PAC, where the court noted that the concern raised by political contributions is a concern “not confined to bribery of public officials, but extending to the broader threat from politicians [being] too compliant with the wishes of large contributors.” But when is a politician “too compliant”? Is it merely when she votes against the interests of the majority of her constituents? Arguably, in a democracy, it is desirable that voters signal to candidates what their preferences are, both through votes, as well as political contributions. Subsequently, when an elected legislator votes in line with these preferences, they are merely being responsive to the needs of their constituents. Say for example, a rich religious minority that has been historically persecuted contributes large amounts to a candidate, who subsequently votes for a law which prevents future persecution of that minority, can we say that such a candidate is “too compliant”? It is highly likely that such a candidate would have voted the same way irrespective of the contributions. As I argue below, disclosures help with this as well.
One problem that increased contributions can result in is the translation of economic inequality to political inequality. If elected officials respond to issues that have received the greatest support from their constituents in the form of the maximum contributions, the legislative agenda may represent the interests of the largest contributors, and not all individuals in their constituency. This may drown out the political demands of economically weaker sections of society. However, this is a risk inherent in all systems that allow private political contributions and is unlikely to disappear until we either have publicly funded elections or the wider economic inequalities in society are tackled.
The most recent hearings on electoral bonds centred around whether the Constitution grants voters the “right to know” who contributed to which political parties, and how much they contributed. Article 19(1) of the Constitution grants all citizen’s a right to free speech. The Article also grants citizens the right to receive information from a person who is willing to speak and share their speech. However, typical conceptions of the freedom of speech do not grant a citizen a right to receive information from an unwilling speaker. In other words, the freedom of speech typically provides a negative right against interference from receiving ‘generally available’ information, but not a positive right to gather or acquire information.
To take an example, the freedom of speech grants a journalist the right to publish an article about a failed military operation by the government. The freedom of speech also protects a citizen’s right to receive the article from the journalist. If the government were to ban the journalist’s article on its failed military operation, this would violate not just the journalist’s freedom of speech but also the citizen’s right to receive information that the journalist wishes to share. However, the freedom of speech does not typically grant the citizen a right to demand details of the failed military operation from the government itself. This would require a separate positive right to acquire information (e.g. as provided by the Right to Information Act 2005).
In later decisions, the Supreme Court has been far more explicit about the fact that voters must not merely be provided access to the ideas a candidate wishes to portray, but also other objective information that will ensure that the voter makes an sufficiently informed decision. For example, in Union v ADR the court noted that, “Casting of a vote by a misinformed and non-informed voter or a voter having one-sided information only is bound to affect democracy seriously.” What the court is articulating is that standard to be applied to the functioning of democracy under the Constitution, and the standard is not satisfied merely by ensuring that all candidates can freely speak and disseminate their ideas. It requires, at a bare minimum, that voters be sufficiently apprised of their electoral candidates to the point where they can make an informed decision about which candidate is likely to best represent their interests in government. To ensure this, Article 19(1) grants voters a positive right to acquire information about candidates, even if the candidates are unwilling to provide this information.
In Union v ADR ruled that electoral candidates must disclose their assets, educational qualifications, and their involvement in criminal cases for voters to be make an informed decision. This sets a high threshold for the standard of information a voter must possess before voting, leaving the government hard-pressed to argue that voters do not need to know the identity and amounts of political donations received by candidates and parties. As I argue below, the identity of a candidate’s contributors is crucial in allowing voters to make an informed decision.
However, beyond this, disclosures allow voters themselves to decide when an elected official is being “too compliant” with the wishes of their contributors. As noted above, it is often difficult to determine when an elected official is “too compliant” with the wishes of their contributors. It is likely that individuals will disagree over when an elected official’s action is “too compliant”. However, when contributions are disclosed, each voter can decide for herself when an official’s behaviour is “too compliant” with the interests of their respective contributors and punish the legislator by not voting for them in the next election. As the U.S. Supreme Court noted when examining the constitutionality of campaign finance disclosures in the landmark decision of Buckley v Valeo (Buckley), disclosures “provide the electorate with information as to where political campaign money comes from and how it is spent by the candidate in order to aid the voters in evaluating those who seek federal office.” Knowing whether an official is likely to represent, or only represent, the wishes of their political contributors is crucial information for an individual voter in deciding whether the official will represent that individual voter’s interest in government.
Recall that the Supreme Court has already stated that for voters to effectively exercise their role as voters under the Constitution, they must be provided with certain basic information. A key question in case of electoral bonds scheme is whether the identity of the contributor and the quantum of the contributions received by the candidates is part of this essential information a voter should receive to be sufficiently informed. By denying voters this information, the electoral bonds scheme makes it impossible for voters to understand when their elected politicians are acting in favour of large political contributors – even the politicians may be blatantly doing so. Further, electoral bonds allow politicians to hide their position on certain issues by receiving funding from interest groups anonymously. A voter might be inclined to vote for a candidate based on their publicly available information such as a candidate’s speeches or track record. However, that same voter may hesitate if they discovered that the candidate received large amounts from interest groups promoting religious persecution, or tax cuts for large business.
In defending the electoral bonds scheme, the government has argued that electoral bonds reduce the amount of ‘black’ (i.e. illicitly obtained) money in elections, as contributions are routed through the State Bank of India which performs ‘Know-Your-Customer’ checks on contributors. This does not eliminate the risk that a contributor will merely funnel ‘black’ money through a legitimate or ‘clean’ company or individual, especially as neither companies nor political parties are required to keep a record of large donors any more. In short, the electoral bonds scheme does nothing to ensure that the origin of the money contributed is legitimate.
Another argument that may be used to defend the electoral bonds scheme is one of contributor privacy. As discussed earlier on this blog (here), individuals have a right to the privacy in their associations, and this would include a contributor seeking to donate to a candidate. Take the example of a candidate who speaks out in favour of a religious minority. If the state were to publish the names of all the people who contributed to this outspoken candidate, these contributors might be dissuaded from contributing to the outspoken candidate. Worse, the contributors may face persecution precisely for contributing to the outspoken candidate (something they have a constitutionally protected right to do). Thus, by not protecting the privacy of their (political) associations, the state would be violating their right to participate in the electoral process.
This is certainly a concern and arguably, where contributors are at risk, a balance must be struck. Garrett notes that in Buckley, as well as in Brown v Socialist Workers, the U.S. Supreme Court exempted campaigns from making disclosures where there existed “specific evidence of hostility, threats, harassment and reprisals.” This is a balanced solution. In the general, where there are no risks to contributors, the voters right to know requires candidates to disclose their contributors and contributions. In specific instances, where a credible risk exists that compelling disclosures will dissuade or put at risk contributors, their privacy must be maintained. Electoral bonds however, exempt disclosures in all situations. Thus, unless the government is able to reverse this – generally requiring disclosures, and creating a nuanced system as to when parties can be keep the source of contributions anonymous, the electoral bonds scheme violates the voters right to know.
To provide some context to the scale of the problem, information procured under the Right to Information Act from the State Bank of India noted (here) that over six hundred crores worth of electoral bonds were purchased between March and October of 2018. The Supreme Court’s interim order in the electoral bonds case is troubling. By refusing strike down the electoral bonds scheme and compel parties to disclose to the citizens of the country who is financing them, the court has taken a step back from its previously strong jurisprudence on a voter’s right to know. Striking down these amendments would have sent a strong signal that any amendments to campaign finance laws must respect that democracy under the constitution requires an informed and empowered voter. As noted above, who is funding a candidate is vital information that allows a voter to understand where a candidate stands on key issues. That the court refused to do this during an ongoing general election, when this information is most relevant to voters, makes the court’s current stance particularly egregious.
On this blog, we have discussed on many occasions a phenomenon that I have labeled “judicial evasion”: by keeping a case pending, and delaying adjudication, the Court effectively decides it in favour of one of the parties (most often, the party in a stronger position, i.e., the government), simply by allowing status quo to continue. A form of judicial evasion has been visible in, for example, the six-year delay in hearing the Aadhaar case (discussed here), the continuing non-decisions in the Delhi v Union of India case (partially discussed here), and the refusal by the Supreme Court to adjudicate the legality of the Bombay High Court censoring a film (discussed here).
However, the Supreme Court’s interim order yesterday in the electoral bonds case presents a textbook example of the subject under discussion. Recall that the electoral bonds case involves a constitutional challenge to the government’s electoral bonds scheme, a method of political funding that is marked by donor anonymity and the elimination of caps on corporate funding (for an extended discussion, see here). After hearing parties for three days, yesterday, the Supreme Court passed an interim order where it refused to stay the scheme, and directed that the details of funding through electoral bonds be made available by political parties to the Election Commission, in a sealed cover, by May 30 (after the end of the general election).
All that we would like to state for the present is that the rival contentions give rise to weighty issues which have a tremendous bearing on the sanctity of the electoral process in the country. Such weighty issues would require an indepth hearing which cannot be concluded and the issues answered within the limited time that is available before the process of funding through the Electoral Bonds comes to a closure, as per the schedule noted earlier.
This may sound reasonable. It is, however, deeply disingenuous. What the Court does not mention here is that the constitutional challenge was filed in early 2018, more than a year ago. It is not as if the petitioners sat on their hands, and waited for the general elections to begin, before rushing to the Court. The scheme was challenged almost immediately after it was enacted into law, notice was issued, and then … nothing happened. In the meantime, electoral bonds were issued on multiple occasions by the SBI, and a significant amount of political funding (more than a hundred crores) was secured through that mechanism, the overwhelming bulk of it going to the ruling party (recall that one of the grounds of challenge is that because of asymmetric anonymity, the scheme unduly favours whichever political party is in power).
The issues at stake were as “weighty” in early 2018, as they are now. Surely, the Court knew this. Furthermore, At the time, there were strong protests against the scheme, and later in the year, a former Chief Election Commissioner publicly criticised them. Everyone knew that general elections would be held in spring 2019. And surely, the Court also knew that an “in-depth hearing” would be required to adjudicate upon the issue. So, to turn around now and act as if these are all fresh developments, that have ambushed the Court unawares, will simply not do: the responsibility for why this hearing only ended up taking place in the middle of the elections, when the Schedule for issuing the Electoral Bonds is more or less over rests solely upon the Court, and it is therefore not open to the Court to now shrug it off by kicking the can off the road.
The Court, therefore, has to ensure that any interim arrangement that may be made would not tilt the balance in favour of either of the parties but that the same ensures adequate safeguards against the competing claims of the parties which are yet to be adjudicated.
But the Court’s method of ensuring a “balance” is a strange one, because it is effectively to simply let the scheme continue. Ordering that the details of the donations be made available to the Election Commission in a “sealed cover” accomplishes the square root of zero: it would make sense if there was suspicion of illegality. However, the entire constitutional challenge is based on the argument that the Electoral Bond Scheme legalises wholesale political corruption by allowing for limitless, secret corporate donations to political parties. How exactly, then, has the Court “balanced” the interests of the parties, especially given that a massive chunk of funding through electoral bonds has already taken place over the previous year, because of the Court’s own failure to hear the case?
It is also unclear why three full days of hearing were not enough for the Court to come to a firm conclusion about the prima facie unconstitutionality (or not) of the Scheme, and allow or disallow a stay accordingly. Recall that this is a Court that regularly grants stays on notice day itself, including on issues that are highly complex (the present Chief Justice himself, for example, stayed this very complex Delhi High Court judgment on genetic discrimination on the very first day of hearing). The same Chief Justice has wrapped up two Constitution Bench cases (involving complex issues on separation of powers and on the RTI) within three to four days of hearing, each. How, then, is it suddenly the case that three days of argument are insufficient for grasping the constitutional issues involved in the electoral bonds case?
Ultimately, this has proved to be yet another example of the Court talking a good talk, but failing to act on it when it comes to the crunch. For the last fifteen years, we have multiple judgments of the Court extolling the voter’s “right to know” as an element of Article 19(1)(a), as integral to free and fair elections, as a cornerstone of democracy, and so on. But when it comes to testing these propositions in an actual case – in a constitutional challenge to State action – all these principles suddenly seem to be writ in water.
At the end of the day, however, what stands out in this case is the element of judicial evasion: an issue crucial to democratic functioning, one that concerned the sanctity of the democratic process itself – the very area that Courts are supposed to stand the most vigilant guard over – was allowed to linger until it became more or less academic (as far as the ongoing elections are concerned). One can only hope that this interim order does not now meet the fate of the Aadhaar case, and remain “interim” for the next half-decade.
Paraphrasing a tweet that I read earlier today: “if the judges of the Meghalaya High Court were any more fragile, they’ll have to be checked in with fragile items and a sticker on top at the airport to be able to fly.” That, at any rate, seems to be the only conclusion one can draw from reading the bizarre order (and the equally disturbing record of proceedings) passed by a two-judge bench of that Court today, holding two journalists from the Shillong Times guilty of contempt of court, fining them Rs. 2 lakh, and failing that, six months imprisonment and a ban (!) upon the newspaper.
In the recent order, Justice SR Sen, who is set to retire in March, wanted several facilities for the retired chief justice and judges, their spouses and children. Besides providing medical facilities for the spouses and children, the order stressed the need for providing protocol, guest houses, domestic help, mobile/internet charge at the rate of Rs 10,000 and mobile for Rs. 80,000 for judges”.
Learned Justice Sen took deep umbrage at these reports. A contempt notice was issued. The seriousness of the matter saw four senior counsel volunteer their services as amicus curiae. One of them filed an affidavit alleging that the report was in “bad taste, showed the court in “poor light”, was not “based on facts” and had been published “without research.” Learned Amicus went on to note that the report had been “aptly (sic) highlighted in colour”, and that “scornful” language had been used.
As for the protocol service/Meghalaya State Guest Rules of retired judges, it was informed to the court that the matter was under process by the GAD. According to the court, the Meghalaya State Guest Rule, 1991, was there at the inception of the High Court but suddenly it was withdrawn without consultation of the High Court by some officers. The government had issued a notification on October 4 this year whereby it had amended Rule 10(a) of the Meghalaya State Guest Rule, 1991. “It is unfortunate that such amendment was made without consultation with the High Court. Accordingly, the notification dated October 4, 2018, is hereby set aside,” the court said. The court also directed the GAD to make protocol service as well as the Meghalaya State Guest Rules “at the same tune and equal facilities to be provided as is applicable to sitting judges, including spouse and children”.
Therefore, the question of a particular Judge on the verge of retirement taking steps for himself or his family does not arise. Hence, the report which appeared in the Shillong Times by the contemnor No. 1 is totally false and without any basis.
The issue, of course, is that neither of the reports stated, as a matter of “fact”, that Learned Justice Sen “on the verge of retirement [was] taking steps for himself or his family” – in fact, the reports were consistent on the point that the order applied to retired judges and their families across the board. That apart, however, what the two reports set out were the facts of the proceedings – none of which were false. On the basis of these facts – which indisputably involved a judge passing very specific and concrete directions ordering the government (under pain of contempt) to provide for certain post-retirement facilities – the report was headlined “When judges judge for themselves.” In the course of this report, the similarity with another case where a judge on the verge of retirement had passed directions for benefits to retired judges was pointed out.
It should now be abundantly clear that Patricia Mukhim and The Shillong Times had no case to answer. Whatever contempt of court might be, publishing an account of a proceeding in which a judge orders the government to provide concrete benefits to retired judges and their families, questioning the putatively self-serving character of that proceeding through the headline, and pointing out a parallel situation from the recent past where judges closed to retirement have passed such orders, does not even come close to constituting contempt. Recall how high the threshold for contempt is: the statement must not only be false, but it must be of such a character that can proximately lead to impeding the course of justice.
Having assumed that an allegation had been made about his conduct in court, and having emphatically denied it, one would imagine that Learned Justice Sen would promptly have initiated the normal evidentiary processes that come into play when one needs to adjudicate between two clashing factual accounts: he would, of course, subject himself to cross-examination on the point by the contemnor’s counsel. One would imagine.
Instead, Learned Justice Sen then set out the provisions of the Contempt of Courts Act, and then cited long extracts from various prior judgments, along with the Press Council Norms. Learned Justice Sen then expressed righteous anguish at the contemnor’s counsel argument that the proper procedure had not been followed in this case, as no formal charge had been framed against the contemnor, no evidence taken, and no right of reply granted. Learned Justice Sen considered arguments on “technicalities” to be “against the principles of professional ethics.” He then cited some more judgments to argue that contempt proceedings could be summary in character, and the normal rules of evidence dispensed with.
Considering the facts and circumstances of this case, we are of the considered view that the contemnor No. 1 has made a derogatory comment which also appears from the affidavit filed by the Amicus Curiae that she has posted in social media dated 17.12.2018 under the statement “Will God reserve the choicest abuses for us journalist? That‟s what the earthly Gods to believe”. When she was confronted on 25.02.2019 for these remarks, she had no answer.
In exercise of the power vested on us by Article 215 of the Constitution of India, we sentence both the contemnors to sit in the corner of the Court room till the rising of the Court and impose a fine of Rs. 2,00,000/- (Rupees two lakhs) each which is to be deposited with the Registry within a week and then to be deposited in the welfare fund of this High Court. We also further direct that in default of payment, both the contemnors will have to undergo 6(six) months simple imprisonment and the paper so called “Shillong Times” will automatically come to an end (banned).
In a judgment that had set a very high bar already, the last line performed a Fosbury Flop and went vaulting clean over the top. You might, on reading it, be wondering: what authority does the High Court have to “ban” a newspaper? The answer is “none at all”, and that’s an answer that could apply to many things going on in this judgment.
On perusal of the said news item, it is really shocking that the publisher and editor of the said newspaper without knowing the law or background of the case is making comments which is definitely derogatory to a Judge who is handling the case as well as the entire Judges fraternity, and that too I cannot understand what was so important that it is highlighted in pink colour. When the matter is pending before the Court, media has no business to comment on it and media is also not a party to this case. Secondly, media is not to dictate the Court: what the Court should do and should not do. Therefore, I find that it is purely contemptuous.
When this judgment is appealed, one can only hope that cooler heads in the Supreme Court will be equal parts amused and equal parts alarmed, and consign it to the scrap heap without much ado. And if such judicial pyrotechnics – coupled with what has been going on in the Supreme Court recently – do not prompt an urgent conversation about the dire necessity for doing away with this “boundless and boundlessly manipulable” contempt jurisdiction, one of the most stifling weapons against freedom of speech in contemporary India, nothing ever will.
An overwhelming cavalcade of technological innovations since the last century has redefined the relationship between law and technology; the Indian Judiciary, quite helplessly, has been playing catch-up ever since. Recently, in one of many such instances that demonstrate the awkwardness of Indian judges in engaging with technology, the Supreme Court in M/s Future Gaming and Hotel Services Pvt. Ltd v. Malayala Manorama & Ors passed an order confirming the regressive approach of Indian Courts towards jurisdictional issues arising out of the online dissemination of free speech.
The facts, briefly, were as follows: The Respondents, a Malayalam Vernacular Daily Newspaper, published a news article on 22-04-2015 that was also made available online on their website. A complaint was lodged by the Petitioner, before the Chief Judicial Magistrate, East and North, at Gangtok (hereafter CJM), inter alia, on grounds that the news so published had defamed the Petitioner Company. The CJM issued process of summons against the Respondents, who subsequently filed a Petition under Article 482 of the Code of Criminal Procedure (hereafter CrPC) before the High Court of Sikkim at Gangtok for quashing the complaint and setting aside the summon order. The High Court quashed the complaint for want of territorial jurisdiction of Courts in Sikkim as the Complainant had “failed to point to any person who has in fact read the online version or downloaded the same to make the offence under Section 499 of the IPC complete and thereby extend jurisdiction to the Courts in Sikkim” (paragraph 9).
Consequently, the Petitioners filed a Special Leave Petition before the Supreme Court, which set aside the decision of the Sikkim High Court. It was held that the complaint could not be quashed at this stage since the list of witnesses contained residents of Sikkim, who proposed to give evidence to the effect that the alleged offence had taken place in Sikkim. The division bench of AK Goel, J. and UU Lalit, J. thus impliedly confirmed that in cases of online defamation, courts could assume jurisdiction in any place where the impugned material is accessed.
Before addressing the question of why such an approach is problematic, it is of pertinence to analyse the rules governing the territorial jurisdiction of courts in civil and criminal cases. Among other provisions to determine jurisdiction in Chapter XIII of the CrPC, Section 179 provides that “When an act is an offence by reason of anything which has been done and of a consequence which has ensued, the offence may be inquired into or tried by a Court within whose local jurisdiction such thing has been done or such consequence has ensued.” Similarly, Section 19 of the Code of Civil Procedure (hereafter CPC) provides that “where a suit is for compensation for wrong done to the person or to movable property, if the wrong was done within the local limits of the jurisdiction of one Court and the defendant resides, or carries on business, or personally works for gain, within the local limits of the jurisdiction of another Court, the suit may be instituted at the option of the plaintiff in either of the said Court”.
The issue arises when Courts apply the same standard for determining jurisdiction in cases of online dissemination of speech; and High Courts across India have done that unanimously. In fact, the Delhi High Court as recently as in the 2016 case of Frankfinn Aviation Services Pvt. Ltd v. Tara Kerkar & Ors held that by putting defamatory material on the internet, “territorial jurisdiction does not remain confined to the place of actual defamation … (and) jurisdiction would be at both places i.e. the place where the actual defamation takes place and the place where such defamatory material is transmitted through website”. Even the Sikkim High Court in the Malayala Manorama case would have found that Courts in Sikkim are competent to exercise territorial jurisdiction if only the Petitioner had produce a person who had read (or downloaded?) the online version in Sikkim.
However, courts have conveniently chosen not to engage with the detrimental consequences of adopting such an expansive approach on free speech. By allowing for the assumption of jurisdiction by any court situated at a place where the website may be accessed, courts have failed to appreciate the inherent distinctions between traditional media and new digital media, and effectively permitted individuals to “create” territorial jurisdiction in online defamation cases as per their convenience across the country (at least). Consequently, this provision has been systematically used to harass journalists, authors, and other individuals, who are forced to travel to remote locations at great personal expense. In fact, Human Rights Watch in 2016 reported several such instances of harassment, with the Tamil Nadu government, for example, having reportedly filed nearly 200 cases of criminal defamation between 2011 and 2016.
The hardship faced by an accused is further augmented as there is no cap on the number of cases that may be filed against him or her under Section 199, CrPC, which lays down the procedure for prosecution. It is also settled law that the exceptions to defamation are only considered after the trial commences in light of Section 204, CrPC, read with Section 105 of the Indian Evidence Act (reiterated in paragraph 198 of Subramanium Swamy v. Union of India). Thus, the accused has minimal safeguards at the time of issuance of process against unscrupulous allegations. Although Section 202, CrPC mandates that the Magistrate postpone the issue of process for deciding whether or not there are sufficient grounds for proceeding in cases where the accused is residing at a place beyond his/her jurisdiction, it often does not afford adequate protection to the accused against harassment, making the process a punishment in itself. This is also applicable to the rare occasions when the accused may be allowed to appear via video conferencing (as was done in the Malayala Manorama case), which engenders its own set of issues.
The cumulative effect of these draconian procedures is a “chilling effect” on speech, which prompts people to engage in self-protective censorship in fear of penalisation. Although this concept has formed an essential part of First Amendment phraseology and jurisprudence in the United States since the 1950s, it was adopted into our free speech jurisprudence much later (starting with the Delhi High Court). The Indian Supreme Court has now recognised this concept in several cases, such as R. Rajagopal v. State of T.N, where the Court modified the common law of civil defamation and noted the chilling effect caused by a no-fault liability standard (paragraph 19). Similarly, in S. Khushboo v. Kanniammal, the Court observed that the law “should not be used in a manner that has chilling effects on the freedom of speech and expression” (paragraph 29). Most famously, in the widely celebrated judgment of Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, the Supreme Court invoked the principles of “vagueness” and “overbreadth” in addition to the chilling effect to strike down Section 66A of the IT Act in 2015 (paragraph 90).
Interestingly, in the case of Subramanium Swamy v. Union of India, in which the Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of criminal defamation, a similar argument was made by some of the petitioners (Read paragraph 20 of Mr. Arvind Datar’s submission here) against the procedure governing the prosecution of defamation under the the CrPC. It was argued that such rules amounted to procedural unreasonableness and imposed a chilling effect on speech, and were thus unconstitutional. The Court’s response to this submission is a classic example of how judges often conveniently disregard engaging with the submission made, and dismiss it by merely reiterating the settled law.
Similarly, on the argument of considering the exceptions under Section 499 at the time of summoning the accused, the Court summarised the settled position of law that those who plead an exception must prove it, and observed: “Therefore, the argument that if the said Exception should be taken into consideration at the time of the issuing summons it would be contrary to established criminal jurisprudence and, therefore, the stand that it cannot be taken into consideration makes the provision unreasonable, is absolutely an unsustainable one and in a way, a mercurial one. And we unhesitatingly repel the same” (paragraph 198). Apparently, using “therefore” multiple times in a sentence sufficed as a justification.
In fact, it was in response to similar issues arising out of the online dissemination of speech such as forum shopping and stifling of free speech that foreign jurisdictions such as the United States evolved restrictive tests to determine “personal jurisdiction” (or, the court’s jurisdiction over the parties in a suit) in online defamation cases. The Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment permits a court to exercise personal jurisdiction (even where a long arm statute exists) “over a foreign defendant when (1) that defendant has purposefully availed himself of the benefits and protections of the forum state by establishing `minimum contacts’ with the forum state; and (2) the exercise of jurisdiction over that defendant does not offend `traditional notions of fair play and substantial justice.’ Sufficient minimum contacts will give rise to either specific or general jurisdiction. General jurisdiction exists when a defendant’s contacts with the forum state are unrelated to the cause of action but are `continuous and systematic.’ Specific jurisdiction arises when the defendant’s contacts with the forum ‘arise from, or are directly related to, the cause of action.’” (Revell v. Lidov at paragraph 20) The mere accessibility of data hosted on a website in the forum state has consistently been held to be insufficient by both standards for the forum court to assume jurisdiction. The court, therefore, determines jurisdiction based on different criteria such as the active or passive nature of the website (as per the “Zippo Sliding Scale”, for example, established in the case of Zippo Manufacturing Co v. Zippo Dot Com Inc.), or, by applying the “effects test” (established in Calder v. Jones, to adjudge whether the effects caused by an defamatory article in the forum state were specifically directed and intended towards it as to confer jurisdiction upon it).
The 2002 decision of the United States Court of Appeals, Fifth Circuit, in Revell v. Lidov is a good illustration of the application of these concepts. The brief facts are as follows: Revell (a resident of Texas) sued Lidov (a resident of Massachusetts) and Columbia University (whose principal office were in New York City) in the Northern District of Texas for defamation arising out of Lidov’s authorship of an article that he posted on an internet bulletin board hosted by Columbia. The district court dismissed Revell’s claims for lack of personal jurisdiction over both Lidov and Columbia as it found the website to be “Zippo-passive”. When this decision was appealed before the Circuit Court, the issue to be determined was whether the operation of an internet site supported the minimum contacts necessary for the exercise of personal jurisdiction. It was held that owing to both the low level of interactivity of the website, and inapplicability of the “effects” test, specific personal jurisdiction could not be established in Texas. It was observed that “the post to the bulletin board here was presumably directed at the entire world, or perhaps just concerned U.S. citizens. But certainly it was not directed specifically at Texas… As these cases aptly demonstrate, one cannot purposefully avail oneself of ‘some forum someplace’; rather, as the Supreme Court has stated, due process requires that ‘the defendant’s conduct and connection with the forum State are such that he should reasonably anticipate being haled into court there.’” Similarly, it was held that general personal jurisdiction could not be established as the “maintenance of a website is a continuous presence everywhere in the world” and does not amount to a “substantial” contact.
It is also interesting to note that while Indian courts have continued to apply traditional jurisdictional rules in online defamation cases, they have increasingly turned to the progressive US standards in trademark infringement disputes. For example, in the landmark case of Banyan Tree Holding (P) Limited v. A. Murali Krishna Reddy & Anr, the Court held that it had jurisdiction over the defendant but it did not get attracted merely on the basis of interactivity of the website which is accessible in the forum state, but on the basis that viewers in the forum state were specifically targeted by the Defendant Website. In an extensive analysis of tests adopted by different jurisdictions to assume territorial jurisdiction, Justice S. Muralidhar went to the extent of noting that “While courts have more readily applied the ‘effects’ test in defamation cases [see Remick v. Manfredy, 238 F.3d 248 (2001); Noonan v. Winston Comp., 135 F.3d 85, 91 (1998)]; Revell v. Lidov, 317 F.3d 467 (5th Cir. 2002) there have been problems in its application to trademark infringement cases” (paragraph 25). This progressive approach to determine jurisdiction has been reiterated in several High Court decisions such as the 2017 decision of the Delhi High Court in Federal Express Corporation v Fedex Securities Ltd. & Ors.
Justice Brennan in the US Supreme Court decision of NAACP v. Button famously remarked that freedom of speech needs “breathing space to survive”. Adopting a regressive approach towards jurisdictional issues arising out of online speech inhibits exactly that. It is hoped that the Indian Supreme Court on a suitable occasion in the future will deliberate on these arguments, and step up to protect this freedom from being choked.

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