Contempt of Court Law: Need for Reform or Retention? – Limits of criticism vs. maintaining respect for judiciary

In a vibrant democracy like India, where public institutions are constantly under the lens of scrutiny, the law of Contempt of Court walks a fine line between protection and overreach. Designed to uphold the authority of the judiciary, the law—especially in its criminal form— often finds itself at the heart of heated debates over freedom of speech, judicial accountability, and democratic dissent.

At the core of the discussion is the Contempt of Courts Act, 1971, which defines two broad categories: civil contempt, related to disobedience of court orders, and criminal contempt, which includes any act that “scandalises or lowers the authority of the court.” While civil contempt is relatively straightforward, it is this idea of “scandalising the court” that has led to considerable debate and discomfort.

In theory, the courts have repeatedly clarified that fair and reasoned criticism is welcome, even necessary, for a strong and transparent judiciary. But the reality often appears more rigid. The line between critique and contempt seems blurred, and those who cross it—knowingly or otherwise—can find themselves facing harsh penalties.

One of the most high-profile examples was the 2020 case involving advocate Prashant Bhushan, who tweeted critically about the judiciary. The Supreme Court viewed it as a direct attack on the institution's dignity. Critics, however, saw the judgment as an overreach, suggesting that the judiciary had shown intolerance to criticism instead of setting an example of openness.

This brings us to a pressing question: In a modern democracy, should criticism of the judiciary be punished, or engaged with?

Many democratic countries have evolved beyond the idea of criminal contempt for scandalising the court. The United Kingdom abolished it in 2013, concluding that such laws were no longer necessary in a free society. India, however, continues to retain it—arguably due to the country’s volatile media environment, widespread misinformation, and the judiciary’s tradition of not speaking outside the courtroom.

The concern, though, is not about the existence of the law, but its scope and use. The current law leaves too much to subjective interpretation. What one judge sees as healthy criticism, another may perceive as damaging. In such a scenario, the chilling effect on free speech becomes real. Journalists, academics, lawyers, and even citizens begin to self-censor, afraid that strong opinions may lead to legal trouble.

But this is not a call for abolishing contempt law altogether. The judiciary does require protection—especially when its independence is targeted through malicious campaigns. But that protection must come with checks and balances. The law must distinguish between deliberate attacks meant to harm the institution and genuine public interest commentary. A reform-based approach could involve narrowing the definition of criminal contempt, incorporating intent as a necessary element, and creating an independent mechanism to assess contempt claims, rather than leaving it solely in the hands of the judges being criticised.

The judiciary, as a pillar of democracy, must not only be independent but also open to questioning. In a society where public trust is built through transparency, a mature court is one that listens before it reacts.

In conclusion, Contempt of Court laws must protect the majesty of justice—not become a tool to silence criticism. As India continues to evolve as a democratic republic, its institutions—including the judiciary—must find the courage to allow space for dialogue, dissent, and reform.

Respect for courts cannot be demanded; it must be earned through fairness, humility, and openness to critique.