The newly inserted section, described as a “declaration form”, requires applicants to state whether either of their parents was included in the last SIR. If the answer is yes, the applicant must provide the Assembly Constituency number, the polling station (Part Number) and the Serial Number under which the parent appeared in the last SIR. If the parents were not included, the applicant is required to provide their names and, wherever available, their Elector Photo Identity Card (EPIC) numbers.

The introduction of this declaration changes the information sought from first-time applicants. However, the statutory Form 6 prescribed under the Registration of Electors Rules, 1960 has not been amended through any publicly available Gazette notification to incorporate this additional requirement.

The existing offline declaration form may be accessed from here:

Form 6 is a statutory form governed by the Registration of Electors Rules

Form 6 is the statutory application prescribed for inclusion of a person’s name in the electoral roll. It derives its legal authority from the Representation of the People Act, 1950 and the Registration of Electors Rules, 1960. Article 326 of the Constitution guarantees registration as an elector to every adult citizen who is ordinarily resident in a constituency, subject only to the disqualifications provided by law.

Since Form 6 forms part of the Registration of Electors Rules, its contents are governed by delegated legislation rather than administrative practice. Under Section 28 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950, the Central Government may frame or amend the Rules only after consultation with the Election Commission, and such amendments must be notified in the Official Gazette and laid before Parliament.

The existing offline Form 6 may be accessed from here

Whenever statutory electoral forms have been modified in the past, those changes have been carried out by amending the Registration of Electors Rules through Gazette notifications issued by the Ministry of Law and Justice. The legal requirement assumes significance because the additional parental declaration presently appears only during online submission through ECINET. The downloadable Form 6 available for offline submission continues to reflect the notified statutory format and does not contain this declaration.

The result is that the online and offline versions of Form 6 no longer correspond with each other, raising the question of whether a substantive addition to a statutory form can be introduced through the online portal without a corresponding amendment to the Rules.

The 2022 amendments illustrate how changes to statutory forms were previously made

The present position is markedly different from the process followed in 2022 when the electoral registration forms were comprehensively revised.

The Election Laws (Amendment) Act, 2021 amended several provisions of the Representation of the People Act. Pursuant to those amendments, the Ministry of Law and Justice notified the Registration of Electors (Amendment) Rules, 2022 through a Gazette Notification dated June 17, 2022, and the revised Rules came into force on August 1, 2022.

The amended notification can be accessed from here

Those amendments substantially reorganised the electoral registration framework. Form 6 ceased to be a composite application and became a form meant exclusively for registration of a new elector. Applications relating to shifting of residence from one Assembly constituency to another were transferred to Form 8, whose scope was expanded to include correction of entries, change of residence within or across constituencies, replacement of EPIC cards and recording of disability status. Consequently, Form 8A, which earlier dealt with transposition of entries within the same constituency, and Form 001, relating to replacement of EPIC cards, were both discontinued.

The amendments also introduced Form 6B for furnishing Aadhaar details by existing electors. Importantly, this change was accompanied by amendments to the statutory Rules and a separately prescribed form. The framework also expressly provided that furnishing Aadhaar was voluntary and that non-submission would not result in denial of registration or deletion from the electoral roll.

The significance of the 2022 exercise lies in the legal process that accompanied it. Every change to the statutory forms was preceded by amendments to the Registration of Electors Rules and brought into force through Gazette notification. By contrast, the parental declaration now appearing in the online Form 6 does not appear to be supported by any corresponding amendment to the statutory Rules that has been placed in the public domain.

The modified Form 6 raises questions beyond the parental declaration

The issues surrounding the modified Form 6 extend beyond the newly introduced parental declaration. They also affect electors whose names have been deleted during the Special Intensive Revision.

The Election Commission has stated that electors whose names were deleted during the SIR may seek re-enrolment by filing Form 6 during the claims and objections process. This instruction raises an important legal question because, following the amendments that came into force on August 1, 2022, Form 6 is prescribed exclusively for the registration of a new elector.

The declaration contained in Form 6 requires every applicant to state that he or she has not been previously included in any electoral roll. A person seeking restoration after deletion during the SIR cannot truthfully make such a declaration because the very basis of the application is that the person was already enrolled and was subsequently removed from the electoral roll.

The statutory declaration and the process of re-enrolment therefore appear difficult to reconcile. The issue assumes greater significance because the declaration itself warns that furnishing false information or making an incorrect declaration constitutes an offence under Section 31 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950, punishable with imprisonment for a term which may extend to one year, or with fine, or with both. No public clarification has been issued explaining how deleted electors are expected to comply with this statutory declaration while applying for re-enrolment.

The parental declaration inserted into the online Form 6 gives rise to another set of practical questions. Young applicants may not know the Assembly constituency, Part Number or Serial Number under which their parents were enrolled during the previous SIR. The position becomes even more complicated where parents have shifted residence over the years, where they were themselves deleted during the SIR, or where proceedings challenging those deletions are still pending. The Election Commission has not clarified whether inability to furnish these particulars would affect the processing of an application or whether the declaration is intended only for record purposes.

The absence of category-wise disclosures leaves important questions unanswered

The concerns arising from Form 6 are part of a broader issue relating to the transparency of the Special Intensive Revision itself.

While the Election Commission has released aggregate figures relating to additions and deletions, it has not published category-wise information that would enable independent reconciliation of the final electoral rolls.

For instance, although the Commission has announced the number of newly added electors, it has not disclosed the categories under which these electors were added or the districts and Assembly constituencies where these additions have taken place. Without such information, it is difficult to independently assess how the additions have affected constituency-wise electoral rolls.

Similar questions arise in relation to Form 6A, which governs the enrolment of overseas electors. No constituency-wise or district-wise data has been published indicating where such electors have been added following the SIR.

The same absence of detailed disclosure extends to Form 7, which is used for objections and deletion of names from the electoral roll. While overall deletion figures have been released, there is no publicly available information identifying the constituencies where these deletions occurred or the categories under which they were sustained after verification.

Likewise, no detailed constituency-wise information has been published regarding Form 8, which deals with correction of entries and shifting of residence. It remains unclear how many electors were shifted between constituencies, how many merely corrected their particulars, and what impact these changes had on the final electoral rolls.

Without category-wise disclosures relating to Forms 6, 6A, 7 and 8, it is difficult to reconcile additions, deletions, corrections and transfers reflected during the SIR. It also remains unclear whether there is any overlap between these categories or how the aggregate figures released by the Commission translate into the final constituency-wise electoral rolls.

Taken together, these issues raise questions not only about the introduction of the parental declaration in the online Form 6 but also about the manner in which changes affecting statutory electoral forms have been implemented during the SIR. The absence of a publicly notified amendment to the Registration of Electors Rules, the use of Form 6 for re-enrolment despite its post-2022 structure, and the limited category-wise disclosure of additions and deletions leave several aspects of the exercise without a clear statutory or administrative explanation.

Related:

Exclusive Investigation SIR: How many voters did the ECI actually disenfranchise? Why do final figures show inexplicable ‘additions’?

Judgement delivered, paradox prevails: every voter a citizen, but what is the fate of 51.8 million excluded?

SC greenlights SIR, upholds ECI’s power to revise electoral rolls

The Bihar Verdict 2025: How an election was engineered before votes were cast

The post EC’s new online Form 6 requirement raises questions over procedure and legality appeared first on SabrangIndia.

To facilitate the issuance of the Permanent Residence Certificate (PRC) required for proving citizenship under the SIR process, the Congress government in Karnataka recently issued an order simplifying the rules. The order, however, came late and was also made in haste.

Even before the Election Commission had an opportunity to express any opinion on the matter, Shobha and her brigade began raising objections to the PRC that are not only baseless and ridiculous but also dangerous.

The full text of the complaint may be accessed here:

The Constitution of India guarantees One Nation, One Citizenship. No State Government can create a parallel mechanism that undermines this constitutional principle.

The Karnataka Congress Government’s Permanent Residence Certificate (PRC) notification raises serious… pic.twitter.com/essRFW0GES

— Shobha Karandlaje (@ShobhaBJP) July 10, 2026

The essence of Shobha’s allegations is as follows:

1. The Karnataka government is unconstitutionally creating a new category called “Permanent Residents” as an alternative to “Indian citizenship.” Through this, even those who are not citizens of India are allegedly being enabled to acquire citizenship.
2. Permanent Residence Certificates should not be issued to non-citizens. Therefore, the Union government must direct that such certificates be issued only to those whose Indian citizenship has already been established.
3. Until the constitutional validity and legal status of Karnataka’s Permanent Residence Certificate are decided, the issuance of these certificates should be prohibited.

At first glance, the complaint contains neither logic nor patriotism. Not even the slightest concern for the public interest is visible. Instead, it reflects nothing more than the mind-set of, “Even if one eye is lost, it is worth it so long as the person hated loses both eyes,” driven entirely by malice and hatred.

The first question, therefore, is whether these allegations contain any substance.

Shobhaji and  BJP:

Isn’t the Permanent Residence Certificate itself meant to establish citizenship?

Being members of the BJP and the RSS, familiarity with logic, law, and the Constitution has naturally remained limited. Even more disturbing is that administration officials and advisers to the Opposition INC government, who were expected to provide sound legal guidance after assuming office appear to have become just as fallacious as the BJP itself. The complaint speaks for itself.

The argument insists that a Permanent Residence Certificate should be issued only after Indian citizenship has already been proven. But, Shobhaji, does any single document exist in India that conclusively certifies someone as an Indian citizen? As a Union Minister, you should perhaps ask  the Prime Minister this question.

After all, the government has already declared that even a passport—once regarded as proof of citizenship—is merely a travel document, no different in principle from a bus ticket. If that is the position even for those who possess passports, how are the overwhelming majority of poor and oppressed Hindus expected to prove their citizenship, Shobhaji?

When that is the reality, what colonial-era documents, prescribed by you , the actual Aryan migrants who now claim authority, are this country’s indigenous people expected to produce beyond evidence that they have lived in India for decades?

Does your ilk have slightest understanding of the lives of Hindu daily-wage labourers, Hindu agricultural workers, Hindu Devadasis, Hindu transgender persons, or Hindu migrant workers? We know there already that is nothing Bharatiya (patriotic) about the Bharatiya Janata Party. But Nor is this a party representing Hindus as a whole. Through this very allegation, proof has once again been furnished that it represents nothing more than the Brahminical interests of the privileged classes of the Savarna Hindus.

When the government itself does not issue any definitive document establishing citizenship, how can it be argued that even a Permanent Residence Certificate—often obtained by ordinary people only after immense hardship—should be rejected unless citizenship has already been proven? Isn’t that the height of absurdity, sophistry, and cruelty?

PRC: A Provision Made Available by the Election Commission Itself

Shobhaji,

The SIR process is, in fact, intended to verify people’s citizenship. The body conducting that exercise is none other than the Central Election Commission, which functions as an instrument of your government.

It is your own Central Election Commission that has declared, as part of its rules, that submission of any one of the following documents is sufficient to establish a person’s status as a voter and, by extension, as a citizen.

The list of documents is as follows:

1. Identity card or pension order issued to regular employees by any Central or State government or government undertaking.
2. Any document, identity card, or certificate issued in India before  July 1, 1987 by governments, local authorities, post offices, the Life Insurance Corporation, or banks.
3. Birth certificate issued by the competent authority.
4. Passport.
5. SSLC certificate or any other recognized educational certificate issued by an authorized educational authority or university.
6. Permanent Residence Certificate issued by the competent State authority.
7. Forest Rights Certificate.
8. Any caste certificate issued by the competent authority.
9. NRC records, wherever an NRC has been conducted. (At present, this applies only to Assam.)
10. Family records prepared by State governments or local authorities.
11. Any government-issued land or house records.
12. Aadhaar Card. However the Supreme Court has indirectly legitimised the indirect rejection of Aadhar card in its May 27 judgement. 

 

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Now pay attention to Item 6:

Permanent Residence Certificate issued by Competent State Authority.

That means:

1. A Permanent Residence Certificate is one of the accepted documents for establishing citizenship; and
2. It is issued by the competent authority of the State government, not by the Union government. Nor is it issued after citizenship has already been established. On the contrary, the BJP-controlled, Supreme Court-approved Election Commission has explicitly stated that State governments may issue this document for the very purpose of enabling people to establish their citizenship.

Therefore, this is not some new mechanism invented by the Congress government in Karnataka.

(The DK Shivakumar government has certainly displayed delay and inertia in implementing this process. That raises a separate question as to whether the document will ultimately reach those who genuinely lack it. But that is an entirely different issue.)

That is why the allegation that the Permanent Residence Certificate is a “conspiracy to confer citizenship upon non-citizens” is itself malicious. If genuine commitment exists behind this accusation, then opposition should be directed against those who accepted this provision in the first place—the Prime Minister and the Home Minister, in other words, your own government—and against the Central Election Commission that functions at your behest.

Nor is the Permanent Residence Certificate the only State-issued document included in this list. The Commission has also recognized five other documents that are issued by State governments:

1. Identity documents for State government employees.
2. SSLC and other recognized educational certificates issued by authorized educational institutions or universities.
3. Caste certificates issued by the competent authority.
4. Family records prepared by State governments or local authorities.
5. Government-issued land or house records.

Are all these documents not issued by State governments? Hasn’t the Central Election Commission itself recognized them as valid documents? Then how can these documents suddenly become alternatives or substitutes for Indian citizenship?

If that is indeed the argument, were these very documents withheld from poor and oppressed Hindu communities in BJP-ruled States wherever the SIR process was conducted?

For that reason, the allegations made by Shobha and the BJP against the PRC are devoid of substance. They are absurd and built entirely on sophistry.

More importantly, they are dangerous.

The very same line of argument was deployed by the BJP in West Bengal, where it was used as a strategy to deny documentation—particularly to Muslims—and thereby push them out of the electoral rolls. As though waiting for precisely such a pretext, the Election Commission accepted the BJP’s allegations almost in their entirety.

ECI Orders That Curtailed West Bengal’s People-Friendly PRC

When the ECI  initiated the controversial SIR exercise in Bihar through the TMC government in West Bengal anticipated its implications. In July 2025, it issued an order simplifying the process of issuing Domicile Certificates so that residents of West Bengal could obtain the document without being subjected to unnecessary harassment.

However, once the SIR process commenced in West Bengal and district authorities began issuing Domicile Certificates, the BJP in the state demanded that under no circumstances should Domicile Certificates (PRCs) issued after July 2025 be accepted.

The Election Commission promptly accepted that demand. It began separately classifying and rejecting PRCs issued after July 2025.

A detailed report on the matter is available here:

The Central Election Commission subsequently went a step further. Not only did it reject Domicile Certificates altogether, it also issued fresh notices even to those who had previously been issued such certificates. It was only after the Mamata Banerjee government launched a massive public campaign across West Bengal in protest that the Election Commission agreed to accept the document once again—but only after imposing several stringent conditions.

The full text can be accessed here:

The Government Order dated November 2, 1999 relating to Domicile Certificates in West Bengal is available here:

That order makes it clear that eligibility for obtaining a Domicile Certificate is restricted. It also mandates that, in addition to documentary requirements, every applicant’s citizenship and police verification must be completed.

In its final order dated February 8, the Election Commission stipulated that:

1. A West Bengal Domicile Certificate must conform strictly to the Government Order dated November 2, 1999.
2. It must be issued only by the competent authority.
3. An Electoral Registration Officer (ERO) may recognize the certificate only after being satisfied that every prescribed procedure has been duly followed.

Responsibility for this verification was assigned to Micro Observers.

In other words, the Election Commission refused to recognize the simplified procedure introduced by the West Bengal government or the certificates issued under that simplified framework.

A similar situation is now unfolding in Karnataka. The DK Shivakumar government has simplified the rules governing the issuance of Permanent Residence Certificates, and the BJP has begun the very same campaign of misinformation that was witnessed in West Bengal.

Karnataka’s PRC Is People-Friendly—But Will the Election Commission Accept It?

Under Karnataka’s newly issued PRC guidelines, eligibility for Permanent Residence is based on criteria such as a minimum of ten years’ residence in Karnataka, ten years of schooling in the state, ownership of immovable property, and similar qualifications. To establish these requirements, the rules provide that documents such as an Aadhaar card, ration card, Revenue Department records, electoral rolls, and similar records are sufficient.

The guidelines go further. Officials conducting verification are permitted to undertake local inquiries and obtain reports from Village Accountants. Oral testimony has also been recognized as a form of evidence.

Most importantly, the new rules explicitly state that an application must not be rejected merely because a particular document is unavailable. They also require authorities to provide written reasons for any rejection, thereby strengthening official accountability while making the process significantly more inclusive.

There can therefore be little doubt that these new rules are more people-friendly than the previous framework.

The real question, however, is whether a Permanent Residence Certificate obtained through such a simplified and inclusive process will be accepted as a valid document under an SIR exercise that has been designed precisely to exclude as many people as possible.

Furthermore, while framing these new rules, the Karnataka government has implicitly indicated that the amendments were introduced specifically and exclusively to address the requirements of the SIR process. Consequently, although Karnataka’s revised PRC rules may be more citizen-friendly than before, it is doubtful whether they will be Election Commission-friendly or ultimately accepted for SIR purposes.

The Election Commission is under no obligation to accept amendments introduced by the Karnataka government. Just as it did in West Bengal, it may reject them altogether or impose its own conditions, leaving the final decision to the discretion of its own officials and thereby making the process even more stringent.

Indeed, Karnataka’s Chief Electoral Officer has already declined to make any commitment regarding the validity of the state’s revised PRC rules, maintaining that no definitive position can yet be taken.

Is Congress Prepared to Relinquish Power and Confront the Election Commission?

There may be another strategy at work behind all this.

In Karnataka, the first draft of the electoral roll is scheduled to be published on August 5. Thereafter, objections may be filed and supporting documents submitted until September 5. But what happens if, after August 5, the Chief Electoral Officer declares that PRC documents will not be accepted? Will voters who relied on those assurances—farmers, agricultural labourers, daily-wage workers, and other ordinary citizens—be able to assemble an entirely new set of documents within a month? Is the Election Commission’s studied silence, then, part of a deliberate strategy to maximize exclusion from the electoral rolls?

If that is indeed the case, will the Congress government and the Congress party launch a constitutional confrontation against the Election Commission? Will they be prepared to declare non-cooperation with the Commission in order to protect the people and the Republic, even at the cost of losing power? Will they create a constitutional crisis if necessary and wage a political battle to defend the Constitution?

Or will they simply continue publicizing their own people-friendly initiative while, in substance, leaving the PRC incapable of protecting the very people it was meant to serve, thereby allowing the BJP’s agenda to prevail?

The Congress party’s conduct in other states where the SIR process has already been completed does not leave much room for uncertainty about the answer.

Without Repealing the SIR, the Oppressed Cannot Be Protected

The Modi government and the Election Commission are conducting the SIR exercise with the determined objective of removing as many people as possible from the electoral rolls on one pretext or another. Even if only a minor procedural lapse is found in the issuance of a Domicile Certificate, the Commission can simply declare another “discrepancy” and invalidate the document.

That is because the Supreme Court has already held that the Election Commission possesses the authority to frame such rules within the SIR process.

For that reason, Karnataka’s Muslims, Dalit and other oppressed communities cannot be shielded from the BJP–RSS–Election Commission’s SIR offensive merely through the Congress government’s half-hearted PRC initiative.

That is precisely why democracy itself cannot survive unless the SIR process is repealed.

And even after the present SIR exercise concludes, another sustained people’s movement will be necessary—not only to secure the inclusion of those who have been excluded from the electoral rolls, but also to ensure that the SIR process itself is ultimately repealed.

[1] Minister of State for Labour & Employment and Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises (MSME) in the Government of India. A senior Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) leader, she currently serves as the Member of Parliament for the Bangalore North constituency

[2] https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/karnataka/not-23-hindu-deaths-only-nine-congress-tells-bjp/article22515602.ece

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author’s personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of Sabrangindia.

Related:

SIR 2025-2026: A backdoor exercise to bring in the NRC?

Karnataka’s new PRC rules are people-friendly, but will the ECI accept them?

To Karnataka’s Anti-SIR Movement: A note of caution and concern

The post PRC, SIR and a BJP Hawk Shobha Karandlaje! appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Indian Constitution was never conceived merely as a framework for governing an independent nation. Constitutional historian Granville Austin famously described it as an instrument of a “social revolution”; a document intended to transform Indian society by replacing entrenched hierarchies with the principles of justice, liberty, equality and fraternity. This distinction lies at the heart of the debate surrounding the place of ancient Indian texts such as the Manusmriti in legal education.

Socio-political critic and columnist Solomon Mubash argues in his recent essay, From Constitutional Morality to Brahmanical Logic: Judicial Violence and Power, that the controversy extends far beyond curriculum design or the study of history. Instead, he contends that it reflects a deeper contest over the moral and ideological foundations of the Indian republic. Whether or not one agrees with every aspect of his argument, the questions he raises extend far beyond the classroom.

At stake is not whether students should read the Manusmriti. Any serious student of law, history, religion or sociology must engage with texts that have shaped the intellectual traditions of the subcontinent. The real question is how such texts should be situated within a constitutional democracy founded on equal citizenship.

History and heritage are not the same thing.

History seeks to understand the past—its achievements as well as its contradictions. Heritage often seeks to celebrate it. Confusing the two risks turning scholarly inquiry into cultural endorsement. Ancient texts deserve academic engagement because they reveal how societies understood law, authority and social order. They do not automatically acquire normative authority simply because they are old.

The Manusmriti occupies a distinctive and contested place in India’s intellectual history. As Indologist Patrick Olivelle, whose translation remains among the most authoritative, notes, it is one of the most influential Dharmashastra texts prescribing norms of social and legal conduct. Historians have also pointed out that while its actual legal authority varied across regions and historical periods, its prescriptions articulated a social order organised around hereditary hierarchy.

The text differentiates duties, privileges and punishments according to caste and gender. Women, Shudras and those placed outside the varna order occupy unequal positions within its normative framework. Scholars including B.R. Ambedkar, Nicholas Dirks and Christophe Jaffrelot have therefore interpreted the Manusmriti as a powerful symbol of graded social inequality, even while recognising that lived social practises were often more complex than any single text could capture.

Recognising this historical reality is not an act of hostility towards Indian civilisation. It is an acknowledgement that every civilisation contains traditions worthy of preservation alongside institutions that deserve critical scrutiny.

It is precisely this distinction that informed Dr B.R. Ambedkar’s understanding of constitutional morality. In his final address to the Constituent Assembly on 25 November 1949, Ambedkar warned that political democracy could not survive unless it rested upon social democracy founded on liberty, equality and fraternity. He cautioned that India was entering “a life of contradictions”, where political equality would coexist with deep social and economic inequality unless constitutional values transformed society itself.

For Ambedkar, constitutional morality was therefore not blind allegiance to a legal document. It was a civic ethic that required citizens and institutions to judge inherited customs against constitutional principles rather than treating tradition as the ultimate source of legitimacy.

His public burning of the Manusmriti during the Mahad Satyagraha in 1927 has generally been understood by historians as a symbolic rejection of scriptural sanction for caste hierarchy—not a rejection of Indian civilisation itself. His later leadership of the Constitution’s Drafting Committee represented an attempt to replace birth-based status with equal constitutional citizenship.

That constitutional commitment found concrete expression in Articles 14, 15 and 17 of the Constitution, which guarantee equality before the law, prohibit discrimination on specified grounds and abolish untouchability. A Dalit labourer, a Brahmin scholar, an Adivasi woman and a member of a religious minority stand equal before the law not because tradition confers equal worth upon them, but because the Constitution does.

That was the revolutionary promise of the Republic.

Mubash argues that a continuing tension exists between constitutional morality and what he describes as Brahmanical social logic. Regardless of whether one adopts that terminology, the broader constitutional question remains relevant. The tension between constitutional ideals and entrenched social hierarchies continues to surface whenever caste-based discrimination is defended in the language of tradition, women’s autonomy is subordinated to customary norms, or inherited privilege seeks legitimacy through appeals to civilisational continuity rather than constitutional principle.

The danger lies in confusing antiquity with authority. No constitutional democracy derives its legitimacy from the age of its ideas. Its legitimacy derives from the justice of its institutions.

Constitutional morality asks a different question from historical tradition. It asks not whether a practice is ancient but whether it is just; not whether it is customary but whether it respects the equal dignity of every citizen. The Supreme Court has repeatedly reaffirmed this principle in decisions such as Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India (2018) and Indian Young Lawyers Association v. State of Kerala (2018), holding that constitutional morality must prevail where social morality infringes fundamental rights.

Yet the constitutional transformation envisioned by Ambedkar remains incomplete. Ambedkar himself distinguished between political democracy and social democracy, warning that the former could not endure without the latter. More than seven decades after Independence, the continued incidence of caste-based atrocities, manual scavenging, honour killings and structural exclusion—documented in reports of the National Crime Records Bureau, the National Human Rights Commission and successive government agencies—demonstrates that constitutional equality has not fully displaced social hierarchy.

The response to this challenge cannot be historical amnesia. Ancient texts should be read, debated and critically examined. But they must be approached as historical artefacts rather than constitutional guides. Legal education should encourage students not only to understand what such texts prescribed but also to examine who benefited from those prescriptions, who was excluded by them, and why independent India consciously chose a different constitutional path.

Every civilisation possesses traditions worth preserving. Every intellectual tradition contains ideas worthy of study. But no tradition becomes immune from criticism merely because it is ancient.

The Constitution occupies a unique place in India’s public life because it represents a conscious normative departure from systems that assign human worth by birth. As Granville Austin argued, it sought to facilitate a peaceful social revolution through democratic institutions rather than through coercion. It is therefore not merely a legal document but an aspirational framework for building a society in which liberty is not restricted by caste, equality is not constrained by status and fraternity is not defeated by inherited divisions.

The Constitution is not a mirror reflecting India as it was. It is a blueprint imagining India as it could be, and ought to be.

The real challenge before Indian institutions is not that they have forgotten their roots. It is that they sometimes forget the purpose of the constitutional project itself. That project was never about recovering an idealised past. It was about constructing a more equal future.

The future of Indian democracy will not ultimately be determined by how frequently it invokes its civilisational inheritance. It will depend on whether its institutions continue to uphold the constitutional vision articulated by Ambedkar, embedded in the Constitution and reaffirmed by the Supreme Court. India’s civilisational inheritance deserves careful study. Its Constitution deserves primacy. The Constitution is not the antithesis of Indian civilisation; it is arguably the Republic’s most profound civilisational achievement.

Oindrila Dasgupta is a doctoral researcher at Guru Gobind Singh Indraprastha University and teaches Social Inclusion and Journalism. Her work focuses on role of journalism in terms of social justice praxis and pedagogy in India.

Courtesy: The AIDEM

The post Beyond the Manusmriti Debate: Why Constitutional Morality Must Remain India’s North Star appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In a scathing comment on what the Election Commission of India (ECI) has become today, Justice Lokur said it has become Imperium in Imperio (a power within a power). Nobody can question it. Article 324 was not intended to give blanket power to the Election Commission. That is we have the Representation of the People Act and the guidelines under Article 327 of the Constitution:  once you have a field that is occupied by law, fine — you have to go by that law.

Justice Madan Lokur

Justice Madan Bhimrao Lokur Justice served as a Judge of the Supreme Court of India from June 4, 2012 to December 30, 2018. He was speaking at a conclave on ‘One Nation-One Election, Federalism and Citizenship’, organised at the Constitution Club in Delhi. The conclave was organised jointly by the Constitutional Conduct Group and the Group on Federalism & Elections.

Also at the conclave were former Home Secretary Gopal Pillai, former Chief Election Commissioner S. Y. Quraishi, former Election Commissioner Ashok Lavasa, former chairman of the Law Commission of India Justice A. P. Shah, political scientist Niraja Jayal, and transparency advocate Anjali Bhardwaj, among others.

Justice Lokur speaking on the occasion said:

First, I would like to deal with the issue of the controversy that we are facing right now, which was adverted to by Ashok Lavasa (former Election Commissioner)— the passport versus the citizen. If I have an Indian passport, am I a citizen of India? Am I recognised as a citizen of India? We have been told by the Ministry of External Affairs, in a press conference, that the passport is nothing but a travel document — that it does not mean you are a citizen of India just because you have a passport. Therefore, I had a look at the Passports Act of 1967. And I will read to you the Preamble to the Act, and then come to some other sections. The Preamble to the Act says that it is “an Act to provide for the issue of passports and travel documents, to regulate the departure from India of citizens of India and other persons,” and so on. So the Preamble itself makes a distinction — and so does the Act itself — between a passport and a travel document. A passport is defined in the Passports Act, and a travel document is also, separately, defined in the Passports Act.

Now, Parliament does not make laws using superfluous words, or words that have no meaning — I think that is a well-settled principle. So when the Passports Act talks about a passport, and separately talks about a travel document, it means that these are two separate documents. To say that a passport is nothing but a travel document is, I think, a complete misreading of the provisions of the Passports Act.

That is the first thing which I think should be clarified: since it is a complete misreading, a person who holds an Indian passport is a citizen of India. I think that should be very clear.

Now, look at it from the point of view of somebody from outside the country.

You go to an Embassy for a Visa because you want to travel abroad, and the officer there says: “I am giving this visa to you on the basis that you are a citizen of India, but your Ministry of External Affairs says that the document you are presenting to me is not a passport in that sense, and does not certify that you are a citizen of India. So, I am sorry, I can’t give you a visa!”

What happens then at such a time? Does it mean that all the Indians who have gone abroad — to Europe, to the United States, and so on — are persons who are not citizens of India, just because they have a passport? It doesn’t mean anything at all. The passport is effectively reduced to a ticket. Not even an airline ticket, but perhaps a bus ticket — something that entitles you to travel from one destination to another and nothing more.

Now, I think, with great respect to the officer in the Ministry, this is saying something which is totally contrary to the law, and totally contrary to the Constitution of India.

The third thing is what people have been saying — and they said so on TV.

This is that Section 20 of the Passports Act enables the Government of India to give a passport to a person who is not a citizen of India. Fair enough — it does. But how many people who are not citizens of India have actually been given passports of India? We don’t know. I will be surprised if there is anybody who has been given an Indian passport who is not a citizen of India and is admittedly a foreigner. So to quote Section 20 and what it enables is neither here nor there, because we don’t even have the facts. We don’t know how many such people have got passports, who those people are, or the circumstances in which such passports were given. We don’t know anything about this. So Section 20, at least on the evidence available today, is a dead letter.

Take something like the Bharat Ratna. It can be given to a foreign citizen. How many foreigners have actually got the Bharat Ratna? Just two — Nelson Mandela and Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, that’s it. But we know them, and we know what their nationality is; we know they are citizens of different countries. Under Section 20, first of all, we don’t even know whether such a passport has been given; we don’t know who that person is; we don’t know the nationality or the citizenship of that person. So we are just talking about something which is hypothetical. I think even this submission — that, well, it can be given to a foreign national — is neither here nor there.

There has been a mention of citizenship by birth. Yes, the Constitution of India and the Citizenship Act do mention citizenship by birth. There has also been a reference to the recent judgment of the United States Supreme Court. By the way, the US Constitution talks about citizenship by birth — but the Fourteenth Amendment, Section 5, says that Congress can make a law with regard to citizenship. And the Constitution of India also says the same thing, and it is on that basis that the Citizenship Act has been framed. So perhaps that is what the President of the United States is looking at — the possibility of framing a law under Section 5 of the Fourteenth Amendment to do away with citizenship by birth. We have done it. We have done it — we have put in some conditions, some riders: one parent being a citizen of India, one parent not being an illegal immigrant. I don’t know what the United States Supreme Court would or will do.

The last point I want to make on this is something I think is very, very important, and that is that the Constitution of India gives certain fundamental rights only to citizens. Among the most important of these are the right to freedom of speech and expression, the right to travel and move to any place within India, the right to carry on any business, profession, occupation or activity. These are granted only to citizens; they are not granted to everybody else. Article 21, the right to life and personal liberty, is granted to everybody, whether you are a citizen or not. Article 14, the right to equality, is granted to everybody — it doesn’t matter whether you are a citizen of India or not.

But Article 19 is granted only to citizens of India.

So if a person is declared to be a person who is not a citizen of India — why? Because he or she does not satisfy the requirements of the Election Commission, and therefore is not able to vote, and therefore, under Article 326, is perhaps deemed not a citizen of India — then that person is not entitled to any of the fundamental rights under Article 19. Can you imagine that? Somebody takes away your fundamental right to freedom of speech. You go to the court and say, I am a citizen of India, and my fundamental right to freedom of speech and expression has been taken away. And the judge asks you: what proof do you have that you are a citizen of India? What is your answer? You don’t have a single document to show that you are a citizen of India. You have a passport — but the judge says, sorry, the passport is a travel document, it is not a document of citizenship.

So, in effect, all these persons who have not been allowed to vote, and are therefore held not to be citizens of India, and are perhaps stateless persons, have been deprived of a fundamental constitutional right guaranteed under Article 19. So you have these 27 lakh, or 22 lakh, or

6.5 crore persons — whatever the figure — roaming around the country without the fundamental right to freedom of speech, to movement, to expression, to carrying on any business or occupation, because they are not citizens.

So really, when we are looking at this controversy about citizenship and passports, or about citizenship per se, we are looking at something which is extremely serious and which requires considerable debate and discussion — not some press conference where a joint secretary says that just because you have a passport, it does not mean you are a citizen of India. It has very, very serious consequences, which must be debated.

The second thing I would like to mention is about the Supreme Court, the Election Commission, and the judgments that have been rendered recently by the Supreme Court in the last year or two.

I do not want to say anything about the judgment on the appointment of the Chief Election Commissioner, because that judgment is still to be delivered. The only thing I would like to say is that this was debated in Parliament, and one of the suggestions given was that Parliament should appoint the Chief Election Commissioner and the Election Commissioners. That was mentioned, it was discussed, but it was turned down. The reason given was that the Election Commission is going to decide who is elected to Parliament, so we must have a person who is totally impartial. The Constituent Assembly was very clear that the Election Commission should have nothing to do with the executive. But today we have been told that two-thirds of the members of the selection committee to select the Chief Election Commissioner are members of the executive — the Prime Minister and a Cabinet Minister. So what the Constituent Assembly postulated — that there should be a complete separation between the executive and the Election Commission — has been done away with. But beyond that, there is not much I would like to say, because the judgment should be delivered any time now.

The recent judgments of the Supreme Court, particularly the ADR judgment, recognise the right to vote as a constitutional right. Now, way back in 1950–52, in the N.P. Ponnuswami case, a six-judge bench of the Supreme Court said that the right to vote is nothing but a statutory right — it is there in the Representation of the People Act, it is a statutory right. But now, in a sense overruling that six-judge decision, the Supreme Court has consistently taken the view — and it has been reiterated in that ADR judgment — that it is a constitutional right. That is good. I am not saying it should not be a constitutional right — but it is a constitutional right, and therefore it is very important.

So you can’t take away a constitutional right of a person. Apart from Article 19 and so on, if you say that you can’t vote, you are taking away a constitutional right — and you can’t just take it away by saying, listen, you produce certain documents. That is where the idea of a rebuttable presumption comes in. The presumption is that I am a citizen of India.

Somebody has to say that, no, you are not a citizen of India. I don’t have to prove that I am a citizen of India. Whereas now, what has happened is that I have to prove that I am a citizen of India. So that rebuttable presumption has been inverted, and the burden has been cast upon me — someone says to me, you please prove that you are a citizen of India, and if you are able to prove it through the production of these documents, I’ll allow you to vote.

It is actually the other way around. The presumption is that anybody who is here is a citizen of India. I can have an objection and say, listen, I don’t think this person is a citizen of India — in which case I can rebut that presumption and prove it, to the satisfaction of the Election Commission that this person is not a citizen of India. So there is a distinction to be made between a rebuttable presumption and the existence of a presumption which can be rebutted. I think the Election Commission has, in the recent past, kind of overturned that burden of proof.

What is the consequence of that? The consequence is that something like 27 lakh people, perhaps, in West Bengal have been disenfranchised. I met one of the tribunal members last week — last Saturday. She told me that on average — there are 18 tribunals; 19 were constituted, but one member resigned, and I don’t know if a replacement has been appointed. Out of the 18 tribunals, the daily disposal is about 20 to 25 cases per tribunal. On a rough calculation, that comes to about 500 cases being decided per day. I don’t know how many working days there are, but try and imagine: if 500 cases are decided in a day, how much time will it take for 27, or 22, or 23 lakh cases to be decided? And then to say, listen, you need not vote in this election, you can vote in the next election — perhaps that person’s turn may not even come in the next election, since the rate of adjudication is at 500 or 600 cases a day.

I also think that one of the important points the Supreme Court has missed is the expression “reason to believe,” which is there in the Act — that you can have an SIR if you have reason to believe that there is something wrong in the electoral roll. What is that reason to believe?

The expression “reason to believe” has been interpreted a hundred times under the Income Tax Act. You have an assessment order; the income tax officer has reason to believe that you have some income which has escaped assessment; he has to give the reasons why he has come to that belief; that has to be seen by the Commissioner, and then a notice is issued to you for reassessment. The PMLA, which the Enforcement Directorate is using day in and day out, also has the expression “reason to believe” — there is reason to believe that you are guilty of money laundering, or that you have some income which you have not shown and which you have perhaps laundered. The Representation of the People Act — the 1950 Act — also talks about “reason to believe.” The Election Commission has reason to believe that the electoral roll has been wrongly prepared in any constituency. The Supreme Court has said that “any constituency” can mean the entire country. Fair enough. But the reason to believe must be there — and the reason to believe has not been specified in the judgment of the Supreme Court. So we don’t even know what the reason is. Questions have been raised: what is the reason that you have? The electoral roll was prepared in January, elections were held in January; in June you said, well, I have reason to believe that it has to be revised. What were the reasons? Nobody knows. And the reason is, well, I think it should be done.

The Constituent Assembly used an expression, in the context of the judiciary — Imperium in Imperio, a power within a power. That is what the Election Commission is becoming today: Imperium in Imperio. Nobody can question it. Article 324 was not intended to give blanket power to the Election Commission. That is why you had the Representation of the People Act; that is why you had Article 327, which gives certain guidelines. So if the field is occupied by law, fine — you have to go by that law. If the area is unoccupied, then Article 324 comes into the picture. The Supreme Court said as much in Mohinder Singh Gill’s case, and that has been interpreted by the Supreme Court in ADR. I don’t agree with the interpretation, but that is a separate point. I believe that if the field is occupied, you go by what the law says; if it is not occupied, you go by what Article 324 says. It is not that Article 324 can, in a sense, say: well, I don’t think the field is occupied — even though it is occupied, I don’t think it is, and therefore I will do what I feel like doing. That is where the Imperium in Imperio concept comes in with the Election Commission, and I am afraid that has been given to the Election Commission.

There were two more things, actually. One: Mr Ashok Lavasa mentioned the piecemeal revision of electoral rolls. If you look at the statute, the revision or updating of the electoral rolls is expected to be a continuous process. You are supposed to do it all the time, because births are taking place all the time, deaths are taking place all the time, migration is taking place all the time. So you have to keep doing it continuously — not every day, but maybe once in six months, once in three months, once in a year, whatever it is. And when you come to the conclusion that there is something wrong, that is when you exercise the power to have this SIR. That is the reason to believe — that my study, of something I was supposed to do on a regular basis, is what has given me the impression, the empirical evidence, that the roll is incorrect and needs a revision, and therefore I order an SIR.

It could not have happened between January and June 2025. It could not have happened throughout the country. To say that because there has been no revision for the last 20 years, therefore I am going to have an SIR, is not correct. It means that for the last 20 years you have not been doing your job. You should have been doing it. Why have you not done it? How about explaining that to the people of the country? And if you have been doing it, then there is no reason for you to revise the electoral rolls of the entire country. So this piecemeal argument is, I think, of considerable significance. It just shows that either the Election Commission has not been working, or it has on its own decided that whatever happened in the past is wrong, we want to correct it, and we are going to do it in a period of three or four months in Bihar, and maybe some shorter period elsewhere.

The last thing I want to say is about welfare benefits. You had the situation in Bihar, you had the situation in West Bengal — people whose names are not on the electoral roll are not entitled to benefits. It is said, well, if you file an appeal, it’s okay, we’ll consider it. But in some places

— in Bihar, that is what I read in the newspapers — they are being deprived of the benefits. So just imagine the consequence. First of all, you are deprived of a fundamental right that you have under Article 19. Then you are deprived of certain benefits that you are entitled to because of your poverty. So advantage is being taken of your poverty to deprive you of the benefits that you should get because of your poverty. And you can’t carry on any business, profession or occupation, because that right has been taken away — because you are not a citizen. So where do these people go?

So the point is that this entire controversy that has been raised with regard to citizenship, and with regard to the SIR, is something so serious that a couple of discussions here or there is not going to make a difference. It is time that the Supreme Court actually looked into it — not simply saying that, because the Election Commission has done it, and it has the power under 324, we hold 324 to be a plenary power, and so on and so forth.

Look beyond the law. What is the consequence of the law? What is the consequence of an action taken under the law?

This is my closing comment. Just two days ago, you had one judgment from the Bombay High Court, where a person was externed from Mumbai because he had said something about a Cabinet Minister, and a couple of other things — completely innocuous — and he said, I have a right to protest. The Commissioner of Police externed him from Mumbai. So he had to leave his residence, go out of Mumbai, and find a place to stay. I was wondering whether the externment order had been stayed by the Bombay High Court. Whatever the exact position — the newspaper report is not entirely clear on that — the fact is that for seven months he lived outside Mumbai. He was sharing a flat with somebody. His family was in Mumbai. His children were in Mumbai. His work was in Mumbai. His political activities were in Mumbai. He was not allowed to enter the city because of that externment order. And the Bombay High Court said the externment order was illegal, and quashed it. But nothing followed from that. It was just a simple quashing. I believe that is where accountability comes in. Shouldn’t the executive, the Commissioner of Police or whoever it was who passed that externment order, have been made to pay for it, by way of compensation to this person, or by some other method?

The second judgment is from the Delhi High Court. A father and a son were arrested by the police and beaten up. The father was released the same evening. The son was not released; the next morning, the son was found dead, hanging. And the defence given by the police was — is material for committing suicide so easily available in a police station, that you tell a person, okay, in case you want to commit suicide, here is the material available? The Delhi High Court held — and I think rightly

• that custodial death is still actionable, and it gave compensation to the family, for whatever it is worth. That is where accountability comes in
• that you have deprived a person of his life illegally, unconstitutionally, so compensate him for that.

The Bombay High Court, according to me, should have done it. The Delhi High Court has done it. And this entire controversy about the SIR

• not being able to vote, not having fundamental rights, not getting welfare benefits, and all that — somebody has to be held And I think we need to discuss that as well. Thank you.

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The post Justice Madan Lokur: ‘Passport Reduced to a Bus Ticket’, ECI an “Empire within an Empire’ appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The UN communication points to reports showing that the Home Minister presented the electoral updates before Parliament using the policy formula “Detect, Delete and Deport”. The text also notes that senior leadership repeatedly used this framing, describing the SIR as a process to “‘purify’ electoral rolls of infiltrators”.

The joint letter was sent by Nicolas Levrat, Special Rapporteur on minority issues; Irene Khan, Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression; and Nazila Ghanea, Special Rapporteur on freedom of religion or belief. Operating under Human Rights Council mandates, the experts requested explanations from the Indian government regarding actions that may amount to “serious violations of multiple human rights obligations”.

The scope of the ‘Special Intensive Revision’

The inquiry by UN experts centres on the large geographic scale of the Election Commission of India’s (ECI) voter roll update.  According to the details sent to the UN mandate holders, the ECI announced a Special Intensive Revision (SIR) process on November 4, 2025. This administrative exercise covered nine states: Chhattisgarh, Goa, Gujarat, Kerala, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Tamil Nadu, Uttar Pradesh, and West Bengal. It also included three Union Territories: Andaman and Nicobar, Lakshadweep, and Puducherry. In total, the revision applied to 321 districts and 1,843 Assembly Constituencies.

This updating process, which concluded its second phase on December 4, 2025, followed an initial revision conducted in Bihar between June and September of the same year. The ECI stated that the program’s official goals were to ensure that “the names of all eligible citizens are included in the electoral roll,” that “no ineligible voter is included,” and to maintain full transparency when adding or removing names.

Reports sent to the UN indicate that approximately 52 million names were removed from the voter rolls across the 12 participating States and Union Territories. The UN experts noted that the preliminary update in Bihar had already “caused alarm over potential large-scale disenfranchisement and denationalization, particularly of Muslims and other minorities”.

Detailed reports and complaints sent to UN experts led up to this. After examining the on ground details of the allegations, the United Nations (UN) has contacted the Government of India regarding the recent voter roll updates through Special Intensive Revision (SIR). In a formal communication dated May 1, 2026, three UN Special Rapporteurs have raised serious questions concerning the potential systematic removal of ethnic, religious, and linguistic minorities from electoral registers, focusing particularly on Muslim voters and people of Bengali descent.

Impact in West Bengal and the Nandigram

The removal of names heavily affected West Bengal just before its state assembly elections took place on April 23 and 29, 2026. The UN communication notes that West Bengal was “particularly affected,” with a reported 9.1 million names removed from the state’s voter registers.

Individuals affected by the deletions reported being “wrongfully excluded despite having provided valid identification”. The communication states that “Muslim voters were reportedly disproportionately impacted by the SIR process”.

Data from specific local areas highlighted significant discrepancies. The UN mandate holders pointed to the constituency of Nandigram, where reports indicated that “allegedly 95 per cent of the deleted voters were Muslims, even though Muslims only make up 25 per cent of the constituency’s electorate”.

The affected voting population in Nandigram includes “men, women, and elderly citizens who are Indian nationals with valid identity documents”.

The communication also highlights that minor issues, such as “minor spelling inconsistencies in documents”—which are “reportedly common across India due to administrative challenges”—were used as the basis for removing voter names.

Additionally, the UN mandate holders noted concerns regarding the use of technology, specifically reports pointing to “the alleged use of an AI-driven system that flagged ‘irregularities’ in voter data”. The experts stated that using automated systems in this high-stakes context introduces “serious issues related to transparency, errors, and potential bias,” which risks removing valid voters and “undermining democratic fairness”.

Official statements and rhetoric

The UN communication connects the administrative actions to the broader political environment and public statements regarding minority communities. The Special Rapporteurs noted “discriminatory rhetoric by politicians and senior public figures of the Government in the context of the SIR exercise”.

The letters state that the public comments “appear to reflect and reinforce a pattern of discriminatory rhetoric directed at Muslim, Bengali, and other minority communities”.

The communication also cites public statements from senior government figures, including the Union Home Minister, who “publicly framed the deletion of voter names as targeting ‘illegal Bangladeshi immigrants'”. The UN letter states that this description “conflates legitimate Indian Muslim citizens with foreign nationals”.

The UN communication points to reports showing that the Home Minister presented the electoral updates before Parliament using the policy formula “Detect, Delete and Deport”. The text also notes that senior leadership repeatedly used this framing, describing the SIR as a process to “‘purify’ electoral rolls of infiltrators”.

The Special Rapporteurs warned that this phrasing “could amount to potential incitement to discrimination within the meaning of article 20(2) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR)”. This article prohibits the advocacy of national, racial, or religious hatred that leads to incitement, hostility, or discrimination.

The UN experts stated that this language functions to “construct Muslim citizens as presumptively foreign, criminal and undeserving of civic rights, without any individualized determination of their legal status”. Furthermore, the Special Rapporteur on freedom of religion or belief reiterated that religious groups “must not be instrumentalised to incite hatred and violence, including for electoral purposes or political gains”.

The UN concluded that basing a state-run voter update on the removal of a specific religious group “risks constituting, at minimum, an official endorsement of discriminatory attitudes toward Muslim citizens,” and could represent the “instrumentalisation of State administrative machinery for the purpose of political targeting of a religious minority”.

The appeals process and judicial timelines

The UN letter reviewed the legal avenues available to affected citizens and how tight deadlines impacted the outcomes. Voters originally sought recourse through the ECI and filed petitions for judicial review with the Supreme Court of India. On April 6, 2026, the Supreme Court declined to put a stay on the revision process.

On April 16, 2026, the Supreme Court utilised its special powers under Article 142 of the Constitution. The Court ruled that removed voters in West Bengal could restore their names if their appeals were approved by appellate tribunals by the deadlines of April 21 and April 27, 2026. The ECI was directed to update supplementary lists for these individuals, but the Court specified that “those with pending appeals would not be allowed to vote”.

The UN experts expressed concern over the logistical challenges of this legal remedy. The revision exercise led to more than 3.4 million appeals. The UN observed that “the short timeframe and sheer scale of the appeals meant to be resolved before the deadlines set by the Court… appear to have led to the exclusion of millions of eligible citizens from the elections in West Bengal”. The pressure on tribunals to process millions of cases in a few days left many voters without a resolved appeal before the voting deadlines.

Alignment with international human rights law

The UN mandate holders evaluated these events against international treaties that India has ratified, including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), ratified on April 10, 1979, and the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), ratified on December 3, 1968.

The annex to the communication outlines these specific standards. Article 27 of the ICCPR states that ethnic, religious, or linguistic minorities have the right “to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practice their own religion, or to use their own language”. The 1992 Declaration on the Rights of Persons Belonging to National or Ethnic, Religious and Linguistic Minorities similarly requires nations to protect minority identities and ensure their participation in public life without discrimination.

Furthermore, Article 25 of the ICCPR guarantees citizens the right to participate in public affairs and vote in periodic elections “without unreasonable restrictions” and without religious distinctions. The Human Rights Committee’s General Comment No. 25 (1996) states that voter registration processes must be facilitated, objective, reasonable, and non-discriminatory.

The UN expressed “grave concern that the SIR process of electoral rolls conducted by the ECI in West Bengal appears to have imposed conditions and procedural burdens that were neither reasonable nor proportionate, and which have disproportionately impacted Muslim citizens”. They noted that the tight timelines, the “opacity of the algorithmic methodology employed,” and the barriers faced by economically and linguistically vulnerable voters combined to form unreasonable restrictions on voting rights.

Specific questions put forward by the UN

The communication asks the Indian Government to provide detailed observations on seven specific points:

“1. Please provide any additional information and any comment you may have on the above-mentioned allegations.

2. Please provide detailed information on any steps your Excellency’s Government may have taken to ensure that the substance and implementation of the SIR process, including the administration of the claims and objection period, complies with India’s obligations under international human rights law and standards. In particular, please provide details on steps taken to ensure that the SIR process has not resulted in the exclusion of eligible voters from their participation in the public elections of 2026.
3. Please provide details on safeguards ensuring that members of ethnic, religious, and linguistic minorities are not discriminated against in the framework of the SIR process and the determination of their voter status. In this context, please provide detailed information on the exact number of names that have been removed from the electoral rolls, during the SIR process, specifying the reason for deletion, as well as the number of objections and appeals filed in front of the various organs and the resulting decisions. Please also provide disaggregated data on the ethnicity and religion of individuals who have been excluded from electoral rolls, as well as individuals who have been declared ineligible after judicial adjudication. If unavailable, please explain why.
4. Please provide more details about the “claims and objections” period and, in particular, whether the process ensured a fair and effective opportunity to contest exclusions, particularly in light of reports that millions of voters were declared ineligible after judicial adjudication despite presenting valid identification.
5. Please provide details on measures taken to ensure access to effective remedies before the two-phase Assembly elections, which took place 23 and 29 April 2026, for all individuals excluded from electoral rolls.
6. Please provide information on measures undertaken to eliminate any discriminatory treatment of minorities, including Muslims and persons of Bengali descent, as well as other minorities, with regard to the right to vote and to choose their representatives freely.
7. Please provide information on measures that the State is taking to provide effective remedies to individuals found to have been wrongfully removed from electoral rolls and consequently deprived of their right to vote, particularly in cases where no timely remedy was available before the elections took place. What steps are taken to ensure accountability and to safeguard the affected individuals’ right to political participation?”

The UN provided a 60-day period for the Indian government to respond before the communication is permanently hosted on the public reporting website. The Rapporteurs noted they might issue a public statement sooner, as they consider the initial information “sufficiently reliable to indicate a matter warranting immediate attention”.

The Special Rapporteurs requested that “all necessary interim measures be taken to halt the alleged violations and prevent their re-occurrence,” and if the details are confirmed by investigation, to “ensure the accountability of any person(s) responsible for the alleged violations”.

The UN’s official Communication dated May 1, 2026 can be accessed from here

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The post UN Rights Experts flag Discrimination in ECI’s SIR exercise, seek India’s response appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The statement has elaborated on the provisions of international humanitarian law that recognises that even in times of war, humanity must prevail, the Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols grant special protection to hospitals, ambulances, medical personnel, and rescue workers, recognising that those who dedicate their lives to saving others must never become targets of armed conflict. These fundamental and noble principles have been repeatedly and systematically violated by Israel, the occupying Power, says the statement.

“The destruction of healthcare infrastructure has reached catastrophic proportions. Hospitals have been bombed, besieged, and rendered inoperable. Ambulances have been attacked while attempting to rescue the wounded. Doctors, nurses, and paramedics have been killed, injured, or detained while performing their humanitarian duties.

“As of today, only 19 of Gaza’s 34 hospitals remain partially operational, operating under impossible conditions, while severe shortages of medicines, medical equipment, fuel, electricity, and clean water continue to push the healthcare system toward total collapse. In the occupied West Bank, repeated military incursions, restrictions on movement, and shortages of essential medicines have severely disrupted healthcare delivery, with approximately 11,000 surgical procedures reportedly postponed, placing thousands of patients’ lives at further risk.

“This humanitarian catastrophe is not an inevitable consequence of war; it is the result of Israel’s systematic dismantling of the Palestinian healthcare system upon which millions of Palestinian civilians depend for their survival.

“The world witnessed the tragic fate of six-year-old Hind Rajab, who was targeted by the Israeli army after remaining trapped for hours. The Palestine Red Crescent ambulance sent to rescue her, despite prior coordination with Israeli authorities, was also attacked, killing the two paramedics. A recent United Nations Independent International Commission of Inquiry found reasonable grounds to believe that Israeli forces deliberately targeted both the family vehicle and the ambulance.

“Similarly, on March 23, 2025, the international community watched in horror as video evidence emerged documenting the Israeli killing of Palestinian rescue workers in Rafah while carrying out their humanitarian mission. These were not isolated tragedies, but part of a systematic pattern documented by the United Nations, the World Health Organization, and numerous international humanitarian organizations, and they represent only the tip of the iceberg.

“Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, Director of Kamal Adwan Hospital and a respected paediatrician, has become the face of the resilience and humanitarian commitment of Palestinian healthcare workers. As northern Gaza’s healthcare system collapsed under repeated military assaults and siege, he chose to remain with his patients, refusing to abandon those who depended on his care.

“His personal sacrifice became even more profound when he lost his own son, Ibrahim, who was killed during the assault on Kamal Adwan Hospital. Despite this devastating personal tragedy, Dr. Abu Safiya returned almost immediately to caring for his patients, embodying the highest ideals of the medical profession.

“On December 27, 2024, following the assault on Kamal Adwan Hospital-the last functioning hospital in northern Gaza-Israeli forces detained Dr. Abu Safiya, together with members of the medical staff and patients, under Israel’s Unlawful Combatants Law. Since then, he has remained in Israeli detention. His continued detention has become a matter of grave international concern.

“Yesterday, July 8, 2026, United Nations Special Rapporteurs and independent human rights experts called for Dr. Abu Safiya’s immediate release, expressing serious concern over credible reports that he has been subjected to torture, other forms of ill-treatment, prolonged solitary confinement, denial of adequate medical care, and a severe deterioration in both his physical and psychological condition. The experts further emphasized that his detention appears to be arbitrary and urged his immediate release unless internationally recognized criminal charges are promptly brought against him.”

It is in light of these dire and precarious circumstances that the Palestinian embassy has issued the statement and appeal. The appeal calls on all Indians to support and join the call for the immediate and unconditional release of Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya; advocating for the protection of Palestinian healthcare workers, hospitals, ambulances, and medical facilities in accordance with international humanitarian law; supporting independent international investigations and accountability for attacks against medical personnel and healthcare infrastructure; and backing urgent international efforts to restore and strengthen the Palestinian healthcare system while ensuring the unhindered delivery of essential medical supplies and humanitarian assistance.

The continued detention of Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya is not merely the case of one physician. It symbolizes the broader assault on the Palestinian healthcare system and the humanitarian principles that underpin international law. Wider support can make a meaningful difference in defending these universal values.

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The post The arbitrary detention of Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya: A call for justice appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The statement caused bewilderment not because the government’s legal position was new, but because it exposed a deeper Indian contradiction: citizenship is foundational yet curiously undocumented. In a constitutional republic of 1.4 billion people, citizenship exists as a legal status but not always as an easily demonstrable document. While India issues citizenship certificates in limited cases such as registration and naturalisation, it has never institutionalised a universal certificate for all citizens, especially those who acquire citizenship by birth. The MEA’s remark did not create this paradox—it merely forced the country to confront it.

At the heart of the confusion lies the persistent conflation of nationality, citizenship, identity, and residency, terms often used interchangeably in public discourse despite their distinct meanings. Citizenship is the legal bond between an individual and the state, determining political rights such as voting and constitutional protections, while nationality, in international law, refers to the state’s recognition of an individual for external purposes like diplomatic protection and travel. Though the two often overlap in many countries, in India the distinction has blurred through administrative practice and conceptual ambiguity. Indian institutions have long treated nationality and citizenship as nearly synonymous, making the state’s sudden insistence on a technical distinction all the more bewildering for ordinary citizens.

The Indian passport itself embodies this ambiguity. It explicitly states “Nationality: Indian,” leading ordinary citizens to reasonably assume that a state-issued passport, granted after rigorous verification, serves as proof of citizenship. Legally, however, the government argues otherwise: under the Passports Act of 1967, a passport is primarily a travel document, and courts have treated it as strong but not conclusive evidence of citizenship. Yet this legal distinction does little to resolve the deeper issue of public trust, which rests not merely on statutory technicalities but on reasonable expectation. An Indian passport is issued only after one of the most rigorous civilian verification processes in the administrative system, involving document scrutiny, identity and address checks, police verification, and database cross-checks. If even a document issued after such extensive sovereign verification cannot provide documentary certainty, citizens are left wondering whether such certainty is possible at all.

The government’s defenders argue that this distinction is standard administrative prudence. Fraudulent passports exist. Errors occur. Illegal entrants have occasionally obtained legitimate-looking documents through forged papers. Therefore, they say, no single document should be considered infallible proof of citizenship. That argument has limited merit. No document is immune from fraud—not birth certificates, not voter IDs, not Aadhaar, not passports. But that observation raises a different question: if every document can theoretically be fraudulent, does that justify treating every citizen as perpetually unverified? Reported NDTV.

This is where the debate ceases to be technical and becomes political.

The anxiety around citizenship in India cannot be separated from a decade of documentation politics. The National Register of Citizens (NRC) in Assam, the Citizenship Amendment Act protests, detention fears, and repeated rhetoric around “infiltrators” have transformed citizenship from a settled constitutional status into an administrative obstacle course, where documentation functions not merely as a tool of governance but as a test of belonging. The MEA statement came amid the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, when heightened scrutiny of voter eligibility had already reignited fears of exclusion and disenfranchisement. In that context, citizens did not hear a sterile legal clarification; many heard a warning that even the strongest state-issued documents may not protect political belonging. This fear is rooted in lived precedent. In a 2019 NRC in Assam, nearly 1.9 million residents were excluded despite many possessing multiple identity documents, shifting the burden onto individuals to prove belonging through legacy records and multi-generational paper trails. Mechanisms such as Foreigners Tribunals and the “D-voter” classification have further institutionalised citizenship uncertainty, forcing ordinary people into adversarial proceedings to prove they belong. For many, documentation politics remains inseparable from the spectre of detention, where documentary failure can lead to physical confinement.

India’s documentation architecture is fragmented and often exclusionary. Birth certificates remain unavailable for many older and rural Indians; Aadhaar is explicitly not proof of citizenship and can be issued to non-citizen residents; voter IDs, ration cards, driving licences, and PAN each establish limited forms of eligibility or identity, not citizenship. Even passports, despite their prestige, are now reduced to “travel documents,” leaving the average Indian in a peculiar legal limbo—surrounded by identity papers yet lacking a universally accepted proof of citizenship. This contradiction is sharpened by the state’s own inconsistency: while past government deliberations on the Right to Information Act treated Indian passport holders abroad as citizens entitled to citizen-only rights, the state also disclaims passports when legal precision demands it. Such selective elasticity erodes trust; a state cannot demand faith in documentation while reserving the right to deny its meaning.

Modern states depend on documentation because scale makes personal recognition impossible. In a village, identity once rested on community knowledge: everyone knew who belonged. In a nation-state of continental scale, belonging must be mediated through paper, databases, and official recognition. Documents are therefore not merely administrative artifacts; they are instruments through which the state acknowledges personhood and membership. When the meaning of those documents becomes unstable, so does the citizen’s relationship with the state. History shows that documentation systems are never neutral; they can serve welfare and recognition, but also surveillance, sorting, and exclusion.

In the digital state, this problem grows even more complex. Exclusion no longer requires explicit denial; it can emerge silently through database mismatches, transliteration errors, biometric failures, OCR mistakes, and algorithmic flags. Citizenship can become vulnerable not only to missing documents but also to broken data. For migrant workers, rural citizens, linguistic minorities, and the elderly, such invisible failures can become life-altering. The irony is stark in the era of chip-enabled e-passports: even as the state invests in biometrics, cryptographic security, and advanced identity verification, documentary certainty remains elusive.

India’s citizenship regime also suffers from the legacy of Partition. Citizenship law evolved amid displacement, migration, refugee flows, and border anxieties. The Constitution initially addressed citizenship under Articles 5 to 11, while Parliament later enacted the Citizenship Act of 1955. Citizenship could be acquired by birth, descent, registration, or naturalisation. But unlike several other countries, India never institutionalised a universal citizenship certification system. This omission mattered little earlier because citizenship itself was rarely contested at mass scale. Today, however, in an era of biometric databases, surveillance, migration politics, and aggressive verification regimes, that old ambiguity has become dangerous.

Most modern democracies recognise that while no document is fraud-proof, state-issued identity documents must carry strong presumptive legitimacy. In countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Germany, passports are widely accepted as authoritative proof of citizenship or nationality for most practical purposes. India’s problem, therefore, lies less in legal technicality than in its institutional reluctance to provide documentary finality. If the government merely intended to clarify that a passport is not legally conclusive in every dispute, that could have been communicated responsibly; instead, the blunt assertion triggered predictable panic—bureaucratically precise, yet politically reckless. Reported IndiaToday.

This debate goes far beyond semantics because documentation burdens are never distributed equally. The affluent, with digitised records and institutional access, can navigate verification with relative ease, while the poor, displaced, migrant workers, linguistic minorities, the elderly, and marginalised communities remain far more vulnerable. Once citizenship becomes document-dependent, inequality becomes destiny: those with paperwork belong, while those without must plead. This raises a constitutional question—whether citizenship is an inherent right of belonging or a status subject to endless bureaucratic revalidation. In a democracy, the burden must remain on the state to prove exclusion, not on citizens to repeatedly prove inclusion; otherwise, documentation becomes an instrument of coercion rather than a service. The gravest danger is not merely bureaucratic inconvenience but functional statelessness—a condition in which individuals possess histories, documents, and social belonging, yet remain unable to satisfy the state’s shifting documentary demands.

The stakes are not merely symbolic. Citizenship determines access to rights reserved exclusively for citizens, including voting, public office, and constitutional freedoms such as speech, assembly, and movement under Article 19. Uncertainty around citizenship, therefore, threatens not only identity, but the practical enjoyment of democratic rights

The strongest public reaction was not to legal technicality alone, but to what it symbolized: a deep erosion of trust. When institutions repeatedly blur the line between governance and suspicion, even routine clarifications begin to feel threatening.

A passport is undeniably a travel document, but it is also the republic’s assurance of belonging and sovereign protection in moments of crisis. Reducing it to mere travel facilitation strips it of its civic meaning, since passports are issued not to transients but to members of a political community. While citizenship may be challenged in exceptional cases involving fraud or unlawful acquisition, such exceptions cannot define ordinary belonging. The possibility of fraud cannot justify normalising uncertainty for all. The MEA may be legally correct that a passport is not conclusive proof of citizenship, but legality without civic logic becomes absurdity. If documents issued after sovereign verification carry no presumptive trust, the problem lies not with the document but with the state. That is the unsettling truth this controversy has exposed: citizenship must confer certainty, dignity, and belonging—not permanent doubt.

The author is an Indian author (his first book being The Essential,2023), policy analyst, and columnist. His research and commentary regularly appear in scholarly and popular publications. Follow @ens_socialis.

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The post The Battle of Belonging: Why India’s Passport Controversy Matters appeared first on SabrangIndia.

At first glance, one appears to be a labour struggle and the other a dispute over nomenclature. Yet viewed together, they reveal an important political trend. The emergence of local resistance to the convergence of economic dispossession and symbolic communal politics. These movements show that ordinary people often understand how struggles over jobs, land and livelihoods can be linked to disputes over identity and history, even when political leaders treat them as unrelated issues.

Giral Mines & “Benefits” from Development

Giral (often also spelled Girel/Girol in media reports) is a lignite-mining project located near Giral village in Barmer district, Rajasthan, about 43 km from Barmer city. The mine is operated by the state-owned company Rajasthan State Mines and Minerals Limited (RSMML). It was the first modern opencast lignite mine in Rajasthan after the closure of the Palana underground mine. Mining operations began in 1994 and commercial production started in May 1995. The Giral lignite field forms part of the larger Barmer Basin, which contains significant lignite deposits and has been the subject of geological and coal studies The mine was developed primarily to supply lignite to the

Giral Lignite Thermal Power Plant (GLTPP)

A major agitation began on 9 April 2026 and continued for weeks in Giral village. Protesters included mine workers, contract labourers, local youth, farmers and land-losers from surrounding villages. According to protesters and local residents, land in Thumbli-Giral and neighbouring villages was acquired by RSMML roughly three decades ago. Villagers allege that the acquisition was accompanied by assurances of local employment, preference to affected families as the long-term economic benefits from mining activities.

These claims form the central basis of contemporary agitation. The protesters’ principal demands reportedly have included: restoration of jobs lost by local workers, priority employment for land-losers and local youth, regularisation and protection of labour rights, action against alleged exploitation by contractors, payment of bonuses under the Bonus Act, 1965 and fulfilment of employment commitments allegedly made during land acquisition.

The Independent MLA of Sheo constituency, Ravindra Singh Bhati became the most visible political face of the agitation. On May 6–7, 2026, about two months ago, he joined the sit-in at Giral village and announced that he would remain with the protesters until their demands were addressed. Bhati joined the workers at the protest site, spent nights with demonstrators, participated in negotiations with the administration, and insisted that discussions include the contractors involved in mine operations. As frustration grew over the lack of progress, he led large protest mobilisations, including a march involving hundreds of vehicles to the Barmer Collectorate.

The agitation reached a dramatic turning point when Bhati attempted self-immolation on May 19 during a protest, drawing state-wide attention to the protest and increasing pressure on the administration. Yet the most tragic moment came on June 4, with the death of Jaisaram Meghwal, a worker associated with the agitation. His death transformed the movement from a labour dispute into a powerful symbol of the people’s sacrifice/martyrdom: the human costs of neglecting workers’ grievances.

Unlike many mining conflicts in India, the Giral agitation centred less on opposing mining itself than on demanding that the promises accompanying development be honoured

Islampur and the Defence of Historical Memory

While Barmer witnessed a struggle over livelihoods, Jhunjhunu witnessed a struggle over history.

The controversy began when a proposal was mooted by Jhunjhunu’s BJP MLA Rajendra Bhamboo to rename Islampur village as “Shrirampur.” Supporters described the move as a cultural correction. Residents of the village, however, saw it as an attempt to erase a historical identity that had existed for centuries.

According to local historical traditions, the village was founded by Islam Khan, an Afghan officer who served under the command of Rao Shekha Kachhwaha, the eponymous founder of Shekhawati. Another notable Afghan officer associated with the Shekhawat court was Farid Khan—later renowned as Sher Shah Suri—who is said to have served under Rao Shekha’s descendant, Raja Raisal Shekhawat. The presence of Afghan military officers in the service of the Shekhawats, together with the history of Jhunjhunu’s Kayamkhani rulers, who were Muslim Chauhans, reflects the region’s layered political and cultural landscape. These intertwined histories complicate rigid religious interpretations of Rajasthan’s past, revealing instead a history shaped by political alliances, military service, and shared regional identities that often-transcended confessional boundaries. For villagers, therefore, the name Islampur was not merely a religious marker. It represented a historical legacy linked to the region’s own evolution. Many residents argued that changing the name would not restore history but erase it.

What made the movement particularly noteworthy was its broad social character. Opposition was not limited to Muslims. Villagers from different backgrounds emphasised that the issue concerned heritage, local autonomy, and communal harmony. They questioned why a settlement that had existed peacefully under the same name for generations had suddenly become the subject of political intervention.

The movement gained wider visibility when Rajendra Singh Gudha joined the protests. Gudha participated in marches to the Jhunjhunu Collectorate and argued that Shekhawati’s history was rooted in coexistence rather than communal division. Highlighting the historical origins of Nawab Islam Khan, he maintained that place-names must reflect their history and should not be altered to satisfy contemporary political agendas, warning against transforming local heritages into a battleground for symbolic politics.

Residents submitted memoranda, organised padyatras, and presented historical records supporting the antiquity of the village’s name. In doing so, they transformed a naming controversy into a broader defence of historical memory and local self-determination.

Unlike many place-name controversies framed as Hindu-Muslim disputes, opposition in Islampur was articulated largely in terms of local history, administrative continuity and communal coexistence.

Rajasthan’s Democratic Legacy 

Post-princely Rajasthan witnessed important shifts in rural power. In many regions, the decline of traditional feudal powers did not eliminate local hierarchies but reconfigured them, with new dominant landed and political elites emerging alongside expanding corporate influence in recent decades.

In western Rajasthan and parts of Shekhawati, changing political coalitions altered the composition of local elites rather than eliminating unequal structures of rural power. The Giral and Islampur movements suggest that communities today are increasingly questioning both economic and symbolic forms of domination Although Giral and Islampur emerged from different circumstances, they illuminate two dimensions of the same political process.

Across India, economic insecurity has intensified through unemployment, contractualisation of labour, land acquisition, and unequal patterns of development. Simultaneously, public debate is increasingly dominated by disputes over names, monuments, historical symbols, and religious identities. These two developments are not always directly connected. Yet they frequently coexist in ways that benefit entrenched power structures. Economic grievances become fragmented while symbolic controversies occupy public attention.

The significance of reading Giral and Islampur together is not that they concern identical issues, but that both involve local communities asserting agency against decisions made elsewhere. In Giral, villagers questioned who benefits from extraction undertaken in the name of development. In Islampur, residents questioned who has the authority to redefine a region’s historical identity. The significance of these movements lies precisely in their refusal to accept the separation of material and cultural concerns. People require both livelihoods and dignity. Development without justice breeds resentment; attempts to reshape local history through top-down cultural politics can similarly provoke resistance. That shared insistence on local agency—over livelihoods in Giral and historical identity in Islampur—may be the most significant form of democratic resistance emerging in Rajasthan today.

(The author is a mechanical engineer and an independent commentator on history and politics, with a particular focus on Rajasthan. His work explores the syncretic exchanges of India’s borderlands as well as contemporary debates on memory, identity and historiography; he can be contacted on adityakrishnadeora@gmail.com)

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author’s personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of SabrangIndia.

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When History substitutes Governance: Hindutva’s Politics of Manufacturing Pasts

Rajasthan: Gogamedi, a Rajput-Muslim shrine and the politics of communal capture

Hindutva’s Rajasthan Project: Brahmin-Bania Power, not just Muslim baiting

The post Rajasthan: From Giral to Islampur, how locals are contesting development and historical identity appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This second part of the P.V. Narasimha Rao Memorial Lecture 2026 at the Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University recently, political economist, Parakala Prabhakar emphasises that the end game of the controversial and ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) conducted by an obviously partisan Election Commission of India (ECI) is the transformation of the Indian state into rigid majoritarian rule.

Sabrangindia is publishing the second part of this lecture today

Leave alone the citizenry. Public intellectuals, media groups, and even political leaders have swallowed this propaganda. (the narrative propagated by the ECI and the present ruling dispensation that SIR is meant only to clean up voters’)

They are uninterested in casting a probing eye on this large-scale disenfranchisement. Political leaders and a large section of the media are looking at this exercise only from the electoral point of view. They are assessing only, who this disenfranchisement benefits and whose electoral chances it harms.

Therefore, many non-BJP/NDA politicians I have interacted with in the states that went to polls after the implementation of SIR felt that it was unlikely to harm their electoral prospects. Among these there are two categories: One felt that the deleted voters were not ‘their voters’. This in itself is troubling. Because these politicians did not want to bother about deletions per se, especially if their calculations show that those deleted from the rolls may have been voters but were/are not their own voters! The second category are those that understood that their own voters too were deleted, but not enough in number to harm their winning chances. For example, some told me that the deletions were about four thousand votes, but they won their last election by about eight thousand votes. And therefore, despite deletions of ‘their own voters’, their net chances of winning the election were intact. It does not matter for them if some eligible voters were disenfranchised.

Deleted voters stay in the public discourse and news cycles only until the election results are declared. Leaders who made some noise about voter deletions, the media which wrote about them suddenly fall silent once the election results are declared. Today nobody talks about the fate of 80 lakh deleted voters of Bihar, 93 lakhs disenfranchised people of Bengal, 97 lakh voters of Tamil Nadu. Because there are no elections there now, no one talks about the 2.83 crore deleted voters of Uttar Pradesh, 44 lakh deleted voters of Rajasthan, 28 lakh deleted voters of Chhattisgarh, 45 lakhs from Madhya Pradesh, 77 lakh deleted voters of Gujarat!

West Bengal presents an even more deeply troubling picture. About 28 lakh voters were not allowed to vote even though they were not pronounced ineligible. Their papers were not examined and claims not adjudicated. Yet, the ECI, the ruling dispensation, many in the political class and the media want us to believe that the Assembly election of May 2026 was legitimate. They also want us to believe that the SIR process was bona fide, only meant to weed out the “Shifted, Absent, Duplicate and Dead (SADD) voters along with infiltrators. The ECI officials still maintain with a straight face that no eligible voter would be denied of their right to vote. 

Indian Polity in the wake of the SIR

One needs to look at the long-term implications of SIR for our polity. It is to these implications that I now turn.

In the wake of SIR India will have two classes of people: one with the right to vote and another without the right to vote. The ones without the right to vote will necessarily be unsure about their citizenship. That is no surprise nowadays when almost everybody’s citizenship is uncertain. Now we are told that even a passport is merely a travel document and not a proof of citizenship.

Let me undertake a thought experiment now. Imagine that none of us in this hall has a vote. Let us also imagine that all of us live together in one residential colony. To this colony where every resident is a non-voter, would any politician or a candidate in an election come to campaign? Would any politician work for us? Would they give us drinking water, a road, a school, a health centre, a power connection?

I can say for sure that a politician would not even spend a minute of their time to stop by in our colony.

We can live there but with no claims on the state for protection and care. We are beyond the state’s pale. The state has no responsibility towards us. It does not have to care for us. If at all it does, which is unlikely, it is out of its generosity and not on account of our rightful claims on it. The state is not duty bound. We do not any more belong to the political society. In other words, the political society of India will be constricted, circumcised. Those who are excluded are no longer relevant to the Republic.

Let me tell you here that so far SIR has deleted about six crore voters. At this rate, by the time the exercise is completed in the entire country, the estimated deletions would be about 16 crores. This means 160 million voters! This is not a small number. About 80% of the countries in the world have populations of 16 crores or less. SIR in other words, is excising (or eliminating) a few countries from within India and throwing them out into the wilderness.

We are so far used to a democracy where voters decided who should be in the government. But now, in the wake of SIR, we are transitioning into a new a democracy in which those who sit in the government are deciding who should be the voters.

That is the picture which is unfolding in our country today.

BJP-isation of Political Parties

SIR has yet another troubling consequence. It is not difficult to understand that every political party will address only the interests, concerns, and priorities of those who have a right to vote. Only they matter to political parties. As we have understood the drift of the SIR deletions, most of those who retain voting right are likely to be savarna (upper caste/privileged caste) Hindus, if not in the immediate present, but eventually at any rate. We need to keep in mind that the present SIR is unlikely to be the last one. Do not rule out the possibility that SIR becomes unstoppable once it is normalised in the way that it is now normalized and even accepted. There is a probability that we will regularly have such SIR exercises that would progressively eliminate the so called unwanted and impure elements from our political society. After many iterations of SIR, the polity will be fully purged of those unwanted elements.

The non-Hindus and non-savarna Hindus who might still retain their voting right will be rendered into a politically inconsequential minority. Even without the SIR the ruling party at the centre is able to have a council of ministers without a single member belonging to the Muslim and Christian minorities. In the entire history of our independent Republic, we never had a Union Council of Ministers that did not have a Muslim and a Christian representative. Even after the conclusion of the SIR, if any minorities and non-savarna Hindus still remain with franchise, they will still be made politically inconsequential by the process of Delimitation. Assam and Jammu C Kashmir showed the way on how to pack and crack the constituencies by implementing Delimitation to make such unwanted populations irrelevant in electoral contests.

If that is the situation now, imagine what would be the political significance of these sections of our society after the SIR after it is fully implemented. That is the level of Hindu majoritarian consolidation that the current ruling dispensation could mobilize behind itself. With SIR that would be the only political society that is going to remain for every political party in the country to operate in. That would mean Hindu-isation, or rather ‘savarna Hindu-isation’, of our polity. This would result in every political party ending up as a Hindu majoritarian party, some more and some less. But all of them Hindu majoritarian, nevertheless.

The die would be cast; the pitch would be set; the political turf would be transformed. Every political party if it has to be electorally successful or even stay relevant in that curated polity and transformed turf, would play like the BJP, adopt the programme of the BJP, would perhaps even be compelled to be more BJP-like than the present BJP itself.

The point I am making is: in the medium to long term, the consequences of SIR would make every political party like the BJP. In other words, every political party in the country would be BJP-ised.

Israel-isation of India

We already see religious symbols of the majority gradually creeping up to the status of quasi state symbols. Not long ago we had seen the spectacle of several Hindu religious men parade along with a symbol of monarchy, the Sengol, in our democratic Republic’s newly built Parliament House. Not long after a ten-hour marathon debate on Vande Mataram, the government had issued an order that all central government functions should have the song’s all 6 stanzas rendered in every official function. We also are witness to government schemes getting their names that clearly allude to Hindu scriptures, godheads, and epics. Renaming MNREGA to call it G-RAM-G is only the latest example.

This process is worryingly close to the political culture of Israel. The Jewish state is unapologetic about having Jewish religious symbols as its state symbols. The Star of David is on its national flag. Every political party in that country serves only Jewish interests, addresses only Jewish aspirations, heeds only to Jewish concerns and priorities. They are barely distinguishable from one another on core issues. They, in fact, work to outdo each other in championing Jewish interests as well as in displaying their indifference and antipathy to non-Jewish concerns. The state takes no obligation onto itself to the well-being of non-Jews.

The process that is now underway in India, if unchecked, will make India go the Israeli way. In other words, what we see today is a steady Israel-isation of India.

Dismantling Secular, Inclusive India 

The unfolding of these two phenomena is unmistakable: BJP-isation of political parties on the one hand and Israel-isation of Indian polity on the other, both proceeding in lockstep.

This is dismantling the idea of India as a secular, plural, and federal state that pledged itself to delivering liberty, equality, justice and fraternity to its people and to foster a humane society. The idea of India embedded in our 1947 tryst with destiny and the political compact enshrined in our 1950 constitution are now in mortal danger.

The secular, plural, democratic conception of India has been the target of unrelenting assaults from a body of individuals and several other past-worshipping obscurantist platforms. They have been openly and doggedly championing an unequal social order for over a century. Their project is to seek India’s future in its past; to recover from that imaginary past a fabricated pristine glory; to turn the secular, democratic Republic into a culturally, linguistically, religiously homogenized nation. The notion of Indian civilization as a synthesis, and as a palimpsest, is abhorrent to them. Their project’s notion of India seeks to obliterate the rich diversity of cultures, languages, lifestyles, eating habits, sartorial practices, ways of worship and syncretism that the country is blessed with. A flattened India is their notion of a ‘civilizational’ state.

SIR is but one key element in a grand project that seeks to assert exclusive Hindu ownership of the Indian nation, to make that Hindu-owned nation the sole rightful resident in the territory of the Indian state – and turn it into a Hindu nation-state, a Hindu Rashtra. It seeks to redefine the country’s identity as ‘Hindu nation-state’. In that configuration ‘savarna’ is deliberately muted and made illegible for the time being for tactical reasons.

Eventually, when constraints are broken, it would be unveiled as a full-blooded, unapologetic, wall to wall ‘savarna Hindu Rashtra’. Make no mistake.

SIR as a Bloodless Political Genocide

When we became a Republic, our founding parents made it a home for everyone who lived in its territory. Membership of the Republic, or citizenship, was not predicated on religion, caste, gender, language, culture, region of residence, colour, economic status, educational qualifications and such other things. Everyone who chose India as their land of residence was a citizen and also a voter. Denominational attributes did not privilege one or the other as rightful owners of the nation. Everybody was.

Europe went through a different experience when nation states were formed. There were people who rightfully belonged and those who were others or minorities. That was the basis of the European nation-states. There were majorities and minorities. Minorities’ residence was predicated on their becoming tolerable to the majorities. European countries, and countries which adopted that model of building their nation-states, either subjugated minorities, pushed them out of their territories, or even exterminated them. Beginning from the cleansing of the Iberian Peninsula in the mid 15th century until the ethnic cleansing that Israel carries out today, history is witness to many bloody attempts to forge homogenised nations.

But in India we chose a different path. We designed our collective life in a way that the state gave room for everyone, despite their diversity, to live together and thrive.

But ideologies in India that continue to draw their inspiration from the European nation-owned state concept want our Republic too to be turned into a state, owned by one nation – the Hindu nation. In their conception of a Republic, the others needed to be assimilated to the point of obliterating their respective identities, pushed out of the territory of the nation-state, or exterminated through genocide. In the present-day India, both the pushing out and physical extermination of unassimilated minorities are politically impractical.

However, extermination of a political kind of the others is possible. Instead of exterminating the citizen, citizenship could be exterminated. SIR is the weapon forged for that kind of extermination. It exterminates citizenship of those unwanted elements by exterminating their franchise. It is clear that without franchise, citizenship is hollow, without substance. Disenfranchisement hollows out citizenship. Therefore, SIR is nothing but a bloodless political genocide. It exterminates citizenship, pushes people out of political society, and makes people stateless even as they continue to live within the borders of the Indian state. What CAA-NRC could not do, SIR is tasked to accomplish.

The idea of India as a state-nation (in contradistinction to a nation-state) that is home to diverse peoples, cultures, languages and religions is being dismantled at a fiendish pace.

Thank you for your attention.

Part one may be read here.

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The post Disenfranchisement route to Majoritarian Rule: Political Logic of SIR appeared first on SabrangIndia.

According to Hindustan Times, the IDC will now examine the contents of the film and make recommendations to the Union government regarding any further action. The committee forms part of the government’s oversight mechanism for OTT platforms and digital publishers and comprises senior representatives from the Ministries of Information and Broadcasting, Home Affairs, Electronics and Information Technology, Law and Justice, Defence, External Affairs, Women and Child Development, along with other ministries or domain experts that the MIB may nominate. It is chaired by an authorised officer of at least the rank of Joint Secretary.

The latest development follows the government’s directive to ZEE5 to take down Satluj under Section 69A of the IT Act, read with Part III of the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021. Section 69A empowers the Central Government to block or disable public access to online content on grounds including the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State, defence of India, friendly relations with foreign States, public order, or to prevent the commission of cognisable offences.

Unlike theatrical releases, which require certification from the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), OTT platforms fall outside the CBFC’s jurisdiction and are governed by Part III of the 2021 IT Rules. These rules extend a regulatory framework to publishers of online curated content and digital news, enabling the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting to issue directions regarding online content under specified circumstances.

Government sources, quoted by PTI and Hindustan Times, stated that the takedown was prompted by “security concerns” and the obligations imposed on OTT platforms under the IT Rules. According to officials, the makers had originally submitted the film, then titled Punjab ’95, to the CBFC in 2022 for theatrical certification. The Board reportedly sought an unprecedented 127 cuts before granting certification. The filmmakers declined to accept those edits, following which the project remained stalled for several years before eventually being released directly on ZEE5 under the new title Satluj on July 3.

Officials told PTI that after the uncut version became available online, the government intervened and directed ZEE5 to remove it. “If they want to release the film in theatres and OTT, they should follow the laid down norms,” one official was quoted as saying by PTI.

Following the government’s direction, ZEE5 confirmed through an official statement on Instagram that Satluj would be “unavailable in India until further notice” due to “current developments”, without elaborating further. The platform thanked viewers for the overwhelming response the film had received following its release. While inaccessible in India, the film reportedly continues to be available internationally through ZEE5 Global.

The controversy has also highlighted the distinct regulatory regimes governing cinema and digital platforms. Newly appointed CBFC Chairperson Shashi Shekar clarified that the certification board had no role in the OTT release, observing that “OTT platforms don’t come under the jurisdiction of the CBFC.”

A film about one of India’s most important human rights cases

Directed by Honey Trehan, Satluj chronicles the life of Jaswant Singh Khalra, the prominent Punjab human rights activist who exposed the illegal cremation of thousands of unidentified bodies by the Punjab Police during the militancy and counter-insurgency period between 1984 and 1994.

Khalra was abducted outside his residence in September 1995 after documenting these disappearances and was never seen alive again. His case later became one of the most significant instances of enforced disappearance and custodial killing in India. In 2005, four Punjab Police personnel were convicted for his abduction and murder, and in 2007, the Punjab and Haryana High Court enhanced their sentences to life imprisonment.

Despite the historical importance of Khalra’s work, the film has faced repeated obstacles since its completion. Apart from the demand for 127 cuts by the CBFC, Punjab ’95 was also removed from the official line-up of the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival shortly before its scheduled premiere, without any public explanation from the festival organisers.

Detailed report may be read here.

Legal basis invoked by the government

The government’s action relies on the framework created under the Information Technology Act and the 2021 IT Rules. Part III of the IT Rules incorporates a Code of Ethics applicable to publishers of online curated content. The Code requires publishers to exercise due caution when content may affect India’s sovereignty and integrity, threaten national security, disturb public order, harm friendly relations with foreign States, or incite violence. It further requires publishers to be mindful of India’s multi-religious and multi-racial social context while depicting communities and sensitive subjects.

Notably, aspects of the Code of Ethics have themselves been the subject of constitutional challenges before various High Courts. The Bombay High Court had stayed certain provisions relating to governmental oversight under the IT Rules in 2021, a stay that the Madras High Court subsequently observed would operate across India. As reported by Mint, it remains unclear whether the Centre specifically relied upon the Code of Ethics while issuing the takedown direction to ZEE5, or whether the order rests exclusively on its powers under Section 69A.

More on IT Act may be read here and here.

Political and public backlash

The removal of the film has triggered sharp criticism from political leaders, filmmakers and free speech advocates. As reported by Scroll, Shiromani Akali Dal president Sukhbir Singh Badal described the decision as “not mere censorship” but “an assault on our collective memory, truth and freedom of expression”, arguing that Punjab must be allowed to confront its history rather than suppress it.

AAP leader Baltej Pannu similarly alleged that the removal was intended to prevent younger generations from learning about a painful chapter in Punjab’s past, claiming that both the BJP and Congress had an interest in suppressing the historical record.

Related:

From Punjab ’95 to Satluj: When cinema becomes a battlefield over history, memory and censorship

Satluj: A film encountered

Kerala’s LDF govt to defy Centre’s diktat, to screen all films as per schedule at IFFK

Erasing Resistance: How the CBFC is censoring films that challenge caste and state power

Safe harbour or shadow censorship? The battle over India’s digital speech

The telegram NEET case and the expansion of platform-level censorship in India

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