The Saffronisation of Indian Judiciary Under Global Scrutiny

The recent interview of former Chief Justice of India (CJI) D.Y. Chandrachud on BBC’s HARDtalk with Stephen Sackur has thrust India’s judiciary into the international spotlight, reigniting debates about its independence, ideological neutrality, and structural inclusivity. Sackur’s probing questions exposed simmering global anxieties over the alleged “saffronisation” of Indian institutions—a term emblematic of the perceived alignment between Hindu nationalist politics and state apparatuses. The Saffronisation of Indian Judiciary Under Global Scrutiny While Chandrachud offered robust defenses, the dialogue underscored a widening chasm between India’s self-image as a constitutional democracy and international perceptions of its judicial impartiality.

Sackur’s interrogation began with a damning premise: that India’s judiciary faces escalating political interference, particularly under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led government. Citing a New York Times editorial, he highlighted concerns that legal actions against opposition leaders—such as Rahul Gandhi’s disqualification from Parliament and the surge in cases against critics—reflect systemic bias. Chandrachud countered by asserting judicial independence, emphasizing that “judges are not influenced by political winds.” However, critics argue that the timing of high-profile verdicts—proximate to elections or contentious political milestones—fuels suspicions of tacit coordination. The Supreme Court’s reluctance to expedite challenges to electoral bonds or sedition laws, juxtaposed with swift rulings on religiously charged issues, amplifies these doubts.

Sackur further interrogated the judiciary’s socio-cultural homogeneity, positing that its dominance by “elite, upper-caste Hindus” perpetuates structural exclusion. While Chandrachud acknowledged diversity deficits, he defended appointments as merit-based. Yet, data reveals stark disparities: over 79% of Supreme Court judges since 2018 hail from upper-caste backgrounds, with minimal representation from Dalit, Adivasi, or OBC communities. This homogeneity, critics argue, risks embedding majoritarian biases, particularly in cases intersecting with identity politics. The absence of a transparent collegium system exacerbates opacity, fostering perceptions of an insular “old boys’ club” resistant to democratization.

The abrogation of Jammu and Kashmir’s special status under Article 370 emerged as a pivotal flashpoint. Sackur challenged Chandrachud on the Supreme Court’s endorsement of the move, citing legal scholars who deemed it a breach of constitutional morality. The former CJI reiterated that Article 370 was a “temporary provision” under “Transitional Arrangements,” asserting its revocation validated J&K’s integration into India. Yet, this defense sidestepped critical nuances: the provision’s conditional permanence after J&K’s Constituent Assembly dissolved in 1957, and the unilateral abrogation without regional consensus. The Court’s deferral to executive promises on statehood restoration—despite ongoing central rule and militarization—raised questions about judicial deference to majoritarian agendas.

Sackur’s inquiry into the Ram Temple verdict—where the Supreme Court awarded disputed Ayodhya land to Hindus—zeroed in on Chandrachud’s reported invocation of divine guidance. While the ex-CJI clarified that personal faith doesn’t influence rulings, the judgment’s reliance on archaeological claims over property law precedents sparked accusations of majoritarian appeasement. The Court’s simultaneous dismissal of title suits by Muslim parties and its directive to allocate alternative land were seen as balancing acts, but critics contend such symbolism legitimizes historical grievances rooted in Hindu nationalism.

The interview also scrutinized PM Modi’s 2023 visit to Chandrachud’s residence, which critics framed as undermining judicial neutrality. While Chandrachud dismissed the meeting as routine protocol, its optics—amid pending cases involving the government—fueled narratives of collusion. This incident, coupled with the Court’s delayed hearings on petitions challenging executive actions, reinforces suspicions of an increasingly pliant judiciary.

The HARDtalk exchange crystallized a global narrative: India’s judiciary is perceived as capitulating to Hindu nationalist pressures. Landmark verdicts on Article 370, electoral transparency, and religious disputes have drawn flak for privileging ideological coherence over constitutional fidelity. Legal harassment of journalists, activists, and opposition figures—often under colonial-era sedition laws—further erodes confidence. The Supreme Court’s 2023 refusal to legalize same-sex marriage, despite championing privacy rights in 2017, exemplifies its inconsistent progressivism.

Chandrachud’s arguments, while legally cogent, falter against ground realities. His claim that Article 370’s abrogation bolstered J&K’s democracy ignores elections held under military occupation and the denial of a UN-mandated plebiscite for self-determination. Similarly, his insistence on judicial secularism clashes with the Ram Temple verdict’s sociopolitical undertones. The dissonance between constitutional ideals and their application underscores a judiciary struggling to reconcile legal principles with political pragmatism.

India’s judiciary stands at a crossroads. While Chandrachud’s tenure saw progressive strides—expanding reproductive rights and digital privacy—the institution’s perceived alignment with majoritarianism risks eroding its legitimacy. For India to uphold its democratic ethos, the judiciary must transcend partisan shadows and reaffirm its role as the Constitution’s custodian.