Centre for Internet and Society

Freedom of Expression in a Digital Age

Geetha Hariharan and Jyoti Panday — 2015-07-15T14:42:23Z

The Centre for Internet & Society, the Observer Research Foundation, the Internet Policy Observatory, the Centre for Global Communication Studies and the Annenberg School for Communication, University of Pennsylvania organized this conference on April 21, 2015 in New Delhi.

This report was edited by Elonnai Hickok

Effective research, policy formulation, and the development of regulatory frameworks in South Asia

Inside this Report

BACKGROUND TO THE CONFERENCE

THE ORGANIZERS

CONFERENCE PROGRAMME

WELCOME ADDRESS

SESSION 1: LEARNINGS FROM THE PAST

Vibodh Parthasarathi, Associate Professor, Centre for Culture, Media and Governance (CCMG), Jamia Millia Islamia University

Smarika Kumar, Alternative Law Forum

Bhairav Acharya, Advocate, Supreme Court and Delhi High Court & Consultant, CIS

Ambikesh Mahapatra, Professor of Chemistry, Jadavpur University

Questions & Comments

SESSION 2: CURRENT REALITIES

Cherian George, Associate Professor, Hong Kong Baptist University

Zakir Khan, Article 19, Bangladesh

Chinmayi Arun, Research Director, Centre for Communication Governance (CCG), National Law University (Delhi)

Raman Jit Singh Chima, Asia Consultant, Access Now

Questions & Comments

SESSION 3: LOOKING AHEAD

Sutirtho Patranobis, Assistant Editor, Hindustan Times

Karuna Nundy, Advocate, Supreme Court of India

Geeta Seshu, The Hoot

Pranesh Prakash, Policy Director, Centre for Internet & Society

Questions & Comments

Conclusion

Background to the Conference

As the Internet expands and provides greater access and enables critical rights such as freedom of expression and privacy, it also places censorship and surveillance capabilities in the hands of states and corporations. It is therefore crucial that there exist strong protections for the right to freedom of expression that balance state powers and citizen rights. While the Internet has thrown up its own set of challenges such as extremist/hate speech, the verbal online abuse of women, and the use of the Internet to spread rumours of violence, the regulation of cont ent is a question that is far from being settled and needs urgent attention. These are compounded by contextual challenges. What role can and should the law play? When is it justified for the government to intervene? What can be expected from intermediaries, such as social networks and Internet Service Providers (ISPs)? And what can users do to protect the right to free speech - their own and that of others?

Balancing freedom of expression with other rights is further complicated by the challenges of fast paced and changing technologies and the need for adaptable and evolving regulatory frameworks. By highlighting these challenges and questioning the application of existing frameworks we aim to contribute to further promoting and strengthening the right to freedom of expression across South Asia.

The Organizers

Centre for Internet & Society

Established in 2008, the Centre for Internet and Society (CIS) is a non-profit research organization that works on policy issues relating to freedom of expression, privacy, accessibility for persons with disabilities, access to knowledge and intellectual property rights, and openness (including open standards and open government data). CIS also engages in scholarly research on the budding disciplines of digital natives and digital humanities. CIS has offices in Bangalore and New Delhi.

Observer Research Foundation

ORF, established in 1990, is India's premier independent public policy think tank and is engaged in developing and discussing policy alternatives on a wide range of issues of national and international significance. The fundamental objective of ORF is to influence the formulation of policies for building a strong and prosperous India in a globalised world. It hosts India's largest annual cyber conference - CyFy: the India Conference on Cyber Security and Internet Governance

The Annenberg School for Communication, The Centre for Global Communication Studies & the Internet Policy Observatory (U. Penn.)

The Annenberg School of Communication (ASC) at the University of Pennsylvania produces research that advances the understanding of public and private communications. The Center for Global Communication Studies (CGCS) is a focused academic center at ASC and a leader in international education and training in comparative media law and policy. It affords students, academics, lawyers, regulators, civil society representatives and others the opportunity to evaluate and discuss international communications issues. The Internet Policy Observatory (IPO) was started by CGCS to research the dynamic technological and political contexts in which Internet governance debates take place. The IPO serves as a platform for informing relevant communities of activists, academics, and policy makers, displaying collected data and analysis.

Conference Programme

'Freedom of Expression in a Digital Age' Effective Research, Policy Formation & the Development of Regulatory Frameworks in South Asia
April 21^st, 2015 - 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

The Observer Research Foundation

20, Rouse Avenue Institutional Area

New Delhi - 110 002, INDIA

About the Conference

The conference will be a discussion highlighting the challenges in promoting and strengthening online freedom of expression and evaluating the application of existing regulatory frameworks in South Asia

Agenda

Learnings from the past		Current Realities		Looking ahead
11:00 - 1:00	1:00 - 2:00	2:00 - 4:00	4:00- 4:15	4:15 - 6:00
Overview of online FoEx policy and regulatory models across South Asia		Enabling FOEX in South Asia		Challenges associated with formulating regulation for online FoEx
Definitions of FoEx across South Asia		Ways in which FoEx is, or may be, curtailed online		Ways forward to bridge existing gaps between policy formation and policy implementation with respect to FOEX online
Impact of technology and markets on FoEx across South Asia		Balancing FoEx and other digital rights		Exploring emerging regulatory questions for FoEx online
Challenges to FoEx online across South Asia		The impact of jurisdiction, multi-national platforms, and domestic regulation on FoEx online		Impacting and influencing the development and implementation of Internet regulation through research
Effective research techniques and online FoEx		Role and responsibility of intermediaries in regulating online speech across South Asia		Exploration of the future role and interplay of technology and policy in enabling FOEX online

Ms. Mahima Kaul, Head (Cyber & Media Initiative), Observer Research Foundation (ORF), introduced the conference and its context and format, as well as the organisers. In three sessions, the Conference aimed to explore historical lessons, current realities and future strategies with regard to freedom of expression on the Internet in India and South Asia.

Mr. Manoj Joshi, Distinguished Fellow, ORF, provided the welcome address. Mr. Joshi highlighted the complexities and distinctions between print and electronic media, drawing on examples from history. He stated that freedom of expression is most often conceived as a positive right in the context of print media, as restrictions to the right are strictly within the bounds of the Constitution. For instance, during the riots in Punjab in the 1980s, when hate speech was prevalent, constitutionally protected restrictions were placed on the print media. When efforts were made to crack down on journalists with the introduction of the Defamation Bill in the 1980s, journalists were lucky that the Bill also included proprietors as those liable for defamation. This created solidarity between journalists and proprietors of newspapers to fight the Bill, and it was shelved.

Freedom of expression is necessary in a democratic society, Mr. Joshi stated, but it is necessary that this freedom be balanced with other rights such as privacy of individuals and the protection against hate speech. In the absence of such balance, speech becomes one-sided, leaving no recourse to those affected by violative speech.

In the digital age, however, things become complex, Mr. Joshi said. The freedom available to speech is enhanced, but so is the misuse of that freedom. The digital space has been used to foment riots, commit cybercrime, etc. Online, in India the restrictions placed on freedom of speech have become draconian. Section 66A and the incidents of arrests under it are an example of this. It is, therefore, important to consider the kind of restrictions that should be placed on free speech online. There is also the question of self-regulation by online content-creators, but this is rendered complex by the fact that no one owns the Internet. This conference, Mr. Joshi said, will help develop an understanding of what works and what frameworks we will need going forward.

Mr. Pranesh Prakash, Policy Director, Centre for Internet & Society (CIS), introduced the speakers for the first session. Mr. Vibodh Parthasarathi, Associate Professor, Centre for Culture, Media and Governance, Jamia Millia Islamia University, would first share his views and experience regarding the various ways of curtailing freedom of expression by the State, markets and civil society. Ms. Smarika Kumar of theAlternative Law Forum (ALF) would then expand on structural violations of freedom of expression. Mr. Bhairav Acharya, Advocate with the Delhi Bar and Consultant for CIS, would throw light on the development of free speech jurisprudence and policy in India from the colonial era, while Prof. Ambikesh Mahapatra, Professor of Chemistry, Jadavpur University, was to speak about his arrest and charges under Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 (am. 2008), providing insight into the way Section 66A was misused by police and the West Bengal government.

Vibodh Parthasarathi, Associate Professor, Centre for Culture, Media and Governance (CCMG), Jamia Millia Islamia University

Mr. Parthasarathi began his talk with an anecdote, narrating an incident when he received a call from a print journalist, who said "TV people can get away with anything, but we can't, and we need to do something about it." The notion of news institutions getting away with non-kosher actions is not new - and has been a perception since the 19^th century. He stressed that there have always been tensions between Freedom of Expression, access, and other rights. Curtailment happens not just by the state, but by private parties as well - market and civil society. Indeed, a large number of non-state actors are involved in curtailing FoE. Subsequently a tension between individual FoE and commercial speech freedom is emerging. This is not a new phenomenon. Jurisprudence relating to free speech makes a distinction between the persons in whom the right inheres: individuals on the one hand (including journalists and bloggers), and proprietors and commercial entities on the other.

In India, freedom of speech cases - from 1947 - relate primarily to the rights of proprietors. These cases form the legal and constitutional basis for issues of access, transmission and distribution, but are not necessarily favourable to the rights of individual journalists or newsreaders. At the individual level, the freedom to receive information is equally important, and needs to be explored further. For entities, it is crucial to consider the impact of curtailment of speech (or threats of curtailment) on entities of different sizes and kinds.

Mr. Parthasarathi further explained that online, freedom of expression depends on similar structural conditions and stressed that scholarship must study these as well. For example, intermediaries in the TV industry and online intermediaries will soon come together to provide services, but scholarship does not link them yet. The law is similarly disjointed. For instance, 'broadcasting' falls in the Union List under Schedule VII of the Constitution, and is centrally regulated. However, distribution is geographically bounded, and States regulate distribution. In order to have a cohesive broadcast regulation, he raised the point that the placement of 'broadcasting' in the Union List may need to be re-thought.

According to Mr. Parthasarathi, the underlying conceptual basis - for the interlinked scholarship and regulation of intermediaries (online and broadcast), of commercial speech and individual access to information, and censorship (State and private, direct and structural) - lies in Article 19(1)(a). He noted that there is a need to rethink the nature of this freedom. For whom do we protect freedom of speech? For individuals alone, or also for all private entities? From what are we protecting this freedom? For Mr. Parthasarathi, freedom of speech needs to be protected from the State, the market, civil society and those with entrenched political interests. Additionally, Mr. Parthasarathi raised the question of whether or not in the online context freedom of the enterprise becomes antithetical to universal access

Mr. Parthasarathi also highlighted that it is important to remember that freedom of expression is not an end in itself; it is a facilitator - the 'road'- to achieve crucial goals such as diversity of speech. But if diversity is what freedom of expression should enable, it is important to ask whether institutional exercise of freedom has led to enhanced diversity of speech. Do media freedom and media diversity go together? For Mr. Parthasarathi, media freedom and media diversity do not always go together. The most vivid example of this is the broadcast environment in India, following the deregulation of broadcast media beginning from the mid 1990s - much of which was done through executive orders on an ad hoc basis.

This led to infrastructural censorship, in addition to the ex-post curtailment of content. Increasingly the conditions on which content is produced are mediated i.e. which entities are eligible to obtain licenses, what type of capital is encouraged or discouraged, how is market dominance measured, accumulation of interests across content and carriage, or various carriage platforms? Mediating the conditions of producing speech, or infra censorship, is primarily operationalised through regulatory silences, as illustrated in the absence of any coherent or systematic anti-competitive measures.

Indian courts are champions in protecting the freedom of expression of 'outlets' - of proprietors and entities. But this has not led to diversity of speech and media. Perhaps there is a need to rethink and reformulate ideas of freedom. He pointed out that it is not enough merely to look at ex post curtailment of speech (i.e., the traditional idea of censorship). Instead the conditions in which speech is made and censored need to be explored; only then can our understanding expand. Mr Parthasarathi ended his talk by stressing that a proactive understanding of freedom of expression can highlight architectural curtailment of speech through the grant of licenses, competition and antitrust laws, media ownership and concentration across carriage and content, etc. This is essential in a digital age, where intermediaries play a crucial, growing role in facilitating freedom of speech.

Smarika Kumar, Alternative Law Forum
Beginning where Mr. Parthasarathi left off, the focus of Ms. Kumar's presentation was the curtailment of speech and the conditions under which speech is produced. At the outset, she sought from the audience a sense of the persons for whom freedom of speech is protected: for government-controlled media, the markets and commercial entities, or for civil society and citizens? Ms. Kumar aimed to derive ideas and conceptual bases to understand freedom of speech in the digital space by studying judicial interpretations of Article 19(1)(a) and its limitations. Towards this end, she highlighted some Indian cases that clarify the above issues.

Ms. Kumar began with Sakal Papers v. Union of India [AIR 1962 SC 305]. In Sakal Papers, the issue concerned the State's regulation of speech by regulation of the number of permitted pages in a newspaper. This regulation was challenged as being in violation of Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution. The rationale for such regulation, the State argued, was that newsprint, being imported, was a scarce commodity, and therefore needed to be equitably distributed amongst different newspapers - big or small. Further, the State defended the regulation citing its necessity for ensuring equal diversity and freedom of expression amongst all newspapers. The petitioners in the case argued that such a regulation would negatively impact the newspapers' right to circulation by reducing the space for advertisements, and thus forcing the newspaper to increase selling prices. Readers of the newspaper additionally argued that such increase in prices would affect their right to access newspapers by making them less affordable, and hence such regulation was against the readers' interests. Ultimately, the Supreme Court struck down the regulation. The Constitution Bench noted that if the number of pages of a newspaper were to be limited and regulated, the space available for advertisements would reduce. Were advertisements to reduce, the cost of newspapers would increase, affecting affordability and access to information for the citizens. Ultimately, newspaper circulation would suffer; i.e., the State's regulation affected the newspapers' right of circulation which would amount to a violation of freedom of expression as the right extends to the matter of speech as well as the ability to circulate such speech.

Apart from the number of pages, the Indian government has sought to regulate newsprint in the past. In Bennett Coleman and Co. & Ors. v. Union of India [AIR 1973 SC 106], a Constitution Bench of the Supreme Court considered whether regulation of the number of pages permitted in a newspaper constituted an unreasonable restriction on freedom of expression. Towards this, the Government of India set forth a Newsprint Policy in 1972, under the terms of which the number of pages of all papers were to be limited to ten; where there were small newspapers that did not achieve the ten-page limit, a 20% increase was permitted; and finally, new newspapers could not be started by common ownership units. The Newsprint Order aimed to regulate a scarce resource (newsprint), while the Newsprint Policy sought to promote small newspapers, encourage equal diversity among newspapers and prevent monopolies. The Supreme Court upheld the Newsprint Order, stating that newsprint was indeed a scarce resource, and that the matter of import and distribution of newsprint was a matter of government policy. The Court would not interfere unless there was evidence of mala fides. However, the Court struck down the Newsprint Policy for reasons similar to Sakal Papers ; that the rights afforded to newspapers under Article 19(1)(a) - including circulation - could not be abridged for reasons of protecting against monopolies.

In his dissenting opinion, Justice Mathew stated that in conceiving freedom of expression, it is important to also consider the hearer (the reader). For Justice Mathew, Meiklejohn's view the "what is essential is not that everyone shall speak, but that everything worth saying shall be said" cannot be affected if, because of concentration of media ownership, media are not available for most speakers. In such a situation, " the hearers [cannot] be reached effectively". However, the imperative is to maximise diversity of speech. For this, we need to balance the rights of citizens against those of the press; i.e., the rights of the reader against those of the speaker.

Ms. Kumar pointed out that this was the first case to consider the right of readers to access a diversity of speech. Justice Mathew distinguished curtailment of speech by the state, and by the market - and that this is crucial in the digital age, where information is predominantly accessible through and because of intermediaries. Ms. Kumar further stressed that especially in an age where 'walled gardens' are a real possibility (in the absence of net neutrality regulation, for instance), Justice Mathew's insistence on the rights of readers and listeners to a diversity of speech is extremely important.

Ms. Kumar went on to explain that though judges in the Supreme Court recognised the rights of readers/listeners (us, the citizens) for the purposes of news and print media, a similar right is denied to us in the case of TV. In Secretary, Ministry of Broadcasting v. Cricket Association of Bengal [AIR 1995 SC 1236], the issue surrounded private operators' right to use airwaves to broadcast. The Supreme Court considered whether government agencies and Doordarshan, the government broadcaster, " have a monopoly of creating terrestrial signals and of telecasting them or refusing to telecast them", and whether Doordarshan could claim to be the single host broadcaster for all events, including those produced or organised by the company or by anybody else in the country or abroad. The Supreme Court held that the TV viewer has a right to a diversity of views and information under Article 19(1)(a), and also that the viewer must be protected against the market. The Court reasoned that " airwaves being public property, it is the duty of the state to see that airwaves are so utilised as to advance the free speech right of the citizens, which is served by ensuring plurality and diversity of views, opinions and ideas ".

If every citizen were afforded the right to use airwaves at his own choosing, "powerful economic, commercial and political interests" would dominate the media. Therefore, instead of affirming a distinct right of listeners, the Court conflated the interests of government-controlled media with those of the listeners, on the ground that government media fall under public and parliamentary scrutiny. According to Ms. Kumar this is a regressive position that formulates State interest as citizen interest. Ms. Kumar argued that in order to ensure freedom of speech there is a need to frame citizens' interests as distinct from those of the market and the government.

Bhairav Acharya, Advocate, Supreme Court and Delhi High Court & Consultant, CIS
Mr. Acharya's presentation focused on the divergence between the jurisprudence and policy surrounding freedom of expression in India. According to him, the policies of successive governments in India - from the colonial period and thereafter - have developed at odds with case-law relating to freedom of expression. Indeed, it is possible to discern from the government's actions over the last two centuries a relatively consistent narrative of governance which seeks to bend the individual's right to speech to its will. The defining characteristics of this narrative - the government's free speech policy - emerge from a study of executive and legislative decisions chiefly in relation to the press, that continue to shape policy regarding the freedom of expression on the Internet. Thus, there has been consistent tension between the individual and the community, as well as the role of the government in enforcing the expectations of the community when thwarted by law.

Today, free speech scholarship (including digital speech) fails to take into account this consistent divergence between jurisprudence and policy. Mr. Acharya pointed out that we think of digital speech issues as new, whereas there is an immense amount of insight to gain by studying the history of free speech and policy in India.

Towards this, Mr. Acharya highlighted that to understand dichotomy between modern and native law and free speech policy, it is useful to go back to the early colonial period in India, when Governor-General Warren Hastings established a system of courts in Bengal's hinterland to begin the long process of displacing traditional law to create a modern legal system. J. Duncan M. Derrett notes that the colonial expropriation of Indian law was marked by a significant tension caused by the repeatedly-stated objective of preserving some fields of native law to create a dichotomous legal structure. These efforts were assisted by orientalist jurists such as Henry Thomas Colebrook whose interpretation of the dharmasastras heralded a new stage in the evolution of Hindu law. By the mid-nineteenth century, this dual system came under strain in the face of increasing colonial pressure to rationalise the legal system to ensure more effective governance, and native protest at the perceived insensitivity of the colonial government to local customs.

Mr. Acharya explained that this myopia in Indian policy research is similar social censorship (i.e., social custom as creating limits to free speech). Law and society scholars have long studied the social censorship phenomenon, but policy research rejects this as a purely academic pursuit. But the truth is that free speech has been regulated by a dual policy of law and social custom in India since colonial times. The then-Chief Justice of the Calcutta High Court Elijah Impey required officers to respect local customs, and this extended to free speech as well. But as colonial courts did not interpret Hindu law correctly; interpretations of freedom of speech suffered as well. Mr. Acharya noted that the restrictions on freedom of speech introduced by the British continue to affect individuals in India today. Prior to British amendments, India had drawn laws from multiple sources - indeed customs and laws were tailored for communities and contexts, and not all were blessed with the consistency and precedent so familiar to common law. Since the British were unable to make sense of India's law and customs, they codified the principles of English customary law.

The Indian Penal Code (IPC) saw the codification of English criminal law (the public offences of riots, affray, unlawful assembly, etc., and private offences such as criminal intimidation). In Macaulay's initial drafts, the IPC did not contain sedition and offences of hurting religious sentiments, etc. Sections 124A ("Sedition") and 295A (" Deliberate and malicious acts intended to outrage religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs") were added to the IPC in 1860, and changes were made to the Code of Criminal Procedure as well. Today, these sections are used to restrict and criminalise digital speech.

The Right to Offend :

Mr. Acharya then considered the history of the "right to offend", in light of the controversies surrounding Section 66A, IT Act. Before the insertion and strengthening of Section 295A, citizens in India had a right to offend others within the bounds of free speech. He clarified that in 1925 a pamphlet " Rangila Rasool" was published by Lahore-based Mahashe Rajpal (the name(s) of the author(s) were never revealed). The pamphlet concerned the marriages and sex life of the Prophet Mohammed, and created a public outcry. Though the publisher was acquitted of all charges and the pamphlet was upheld, the publisher was ambushed and stabbed when he walked out of jail. Under pressure from the Muslim community, the British enacted Section 295A, IPC. The government was seeking to placate and be sensitive to public feeling, entrenching the idea that the government may sacrifice free speech in the face of riots, etc. The death of India's "right to offend" begins here, said Mr. Acharya.

A prior restraint regime was created and strengthened in 1835, then in 1838, etc. At this time, the press in India was largely British. Following the growth of Indian press after the 1860s, the British made their first statutory attempt at censorship in 1867: a prior sanction was required for publication, and contravention attracted heavy penalties such as deportation and exile. Forfeiture of property, search and seizures and press-inspections were also permitted by the government under these draconian laws. Mr. Acharya noted that it is interesting that many leaders of India's national movement were jailed under the press laws.

Independence and After :

Mr. Acharya further explained that the framers of the Constitution deliberately omitted "freedom of the press" from the text of Article 19(1)(a) and that Jawaharlal Nehru did not think the press ought to be afforded such a right. This is despite a report of the Law Commission of India, which recommended that corporations be provided an Article 19 right. But why distrust the press, though citizens are granted the freedom of speech and expression under Article 19(1)(a)? In Mr. Acharya's opinion, this is evidence of the government's divergent approach towards free speech policy; and today, we experience this as a mistrust of the press, publications, and of online speech.

Mr. Acharya also explained that statutory restrictions on free speech grew at odds with judicial interpretation in the 1950s. Taking the examples ofRomesh Thapar v. the State of Madras [AIR 1950 SC 124] and Brij Bhushan v. the State of Delhi [(1950) Supp. SCR 245], Mr. Acharya showed how the judiciary interpreted Article 19 favourably. Despite the government's arguments about a public order danger, the Supreme Court refused to strike down left wing or right wing speech ( Romesh Thapar concerned a left wing publication; Brij Bhushan concerned right wing views), as "public order" was not a ground for restricting speech in the Constitution. The government reacted to the Supreme Court's judgement by enacting the First Amendment to the Constitution: Article 19(2) was amended to insert "public order" as a ground to restrict free speech. Thus, it is possible to see the divergence between free speech jurisprudence and policy in India from the time of Independence. Nehru and Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel had supported the amendment, while B.R. Ambedkar supported Romesh Thapar and Brij Bhushan. On the other hand, then-President Rajendra Prasad sought Constitutional protection for the press.

Why Study Free Speech History?

Mr. Acharya noted how the changes in free speech policy continue to affect us, including in the case of content restrictions online. In the 1950s, then-Prime Minister Nehru appointed the First Press Commission, and the newspaper National Herald was established to promote certain (left wing) developmental and social goals. Chalapati Rao was the editor of the National Herald, and a member of the First Press Commission.

At that time, the Commission rejected vertical monopolies of the press. However, today, horizontal monopolies characterize India's press. The First Press Commission also opposed 'yellow journalism' (i.e., sensational journalism and the tabloid press), but this continues today. Decades later, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi called for a "committed bureaucracy, judiciary and press", taking decisive steps to ensure the first two. For instance, Justice Mathew (one of the judges in the Bennett Coleman case) was an admirer of Indira Gandhi. As Kerala's Advocate General, he wanted the Press Registrar to have investigative powers similar to those given in colonial times; he also wanted the attacks on government personalities to be criminalized. The latter move was also supported by M.V. Gadgil, who introduced a Bill in Parliament that sought to criminalise attacks on public figures on the grounds of privacy. Mr. Acharya noted that though Indira Gandhi's moves and motives with regard to a "committed press" are unclear, the fact remains that India's regional and vernacular press was more active in criticizing the Emergency than national press.

Demonstrating the importance of understanding a contexts history - both social and legislative, following the striking down of 66A in Shreya Singhal & Ors. v. Union of India (Supreme Court, March 24, 2015), elements in the government have stated their wish to introduce and enact a new Section 66A. Mr. Acharya explained that such moves from elements in the government shows that despite the striking down of 66A, it is still possible for the repressive and mistrustful history of press policy to carry forward in India. This possibility is supported by colonial and post-Independence press history and policy that has been developed by the government. When looking at how research can impact policy, greater awareness of history and context may allow for civil society, academia, and the public at large to predict and prepare for press policy changes.

Ambikesh Mahapatra, Professor of Chemistry, Jadavpur University

Prof. Mahapatra introduced himself as a victim of the West Bengal administration and ruling party. He stated that though India's citizens have been granted the protection of fundamental rights after Independence, these rights are not fully protected; his experience with the West Bengal ruling party and its abuse of powers under the Information Technology Act, 2000 (am. 2008) ("IT Act") highlights this.

On March 23, 2012, Prof. Mahapatra had forwarded a cartoon to his friends by email. The cartoon poked fun at West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee and her ruling party. On the night of April 12, 2012, individuals not residing in the Professor's housing colony confronted him, dragging him to the colony building and assaulting him. These individuals forced Prof. Mahapatra to write a confession about his forwarding of the cartoon and his political affiliations. Though the police arrived at the scene, they did not interfere with the hooligans. Moreover, when the leader of the hooligans brought the Professor to the police and asked that he be arrested, they did so even though they did not have an arrest warrant. At the police station, the hooligans filed a complaint against him. The Professor was asked to sign a memo mentioning the charges against him (Sections 114 and 500, Indian Penal Code, 1860 & Section 66A, IT Act). Prof. Mahapatra noted that the police complaint had been filed by an individual who was neither the receiver nor the sender of the email, but was a local committee member with the Trinamool Congress (the West Bengal ruling party).

The arrest sparked a series of indignant responses across the country. The West Bengal Human Rights Commission took suo motu cognizance of the arrest, and recommended action against the high-handedness of the police. Fifty six intellectuals appealed to the Prime Minister of India to withdraw the arrest; the former Supreme Court judge Markandey Katju was among those who appealed. Thirty cartoonists' organisations from across the world also appealed to the President and the Prime Minister to withdraw the case.

The West Bengal government paid no heed to the protests, and Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee publicly supported the actions of the police - making public statements against Justice Katju and A.K. Ganguly, former judge of the Supreme Court and head of the West Bengal Human Rights Commission respectively. A charge sheet was framed against Prof. Mahapatra and others, with Section 66A as one of the charges.

The case has been going on for over two years. Recently, on March 10, 2015, the Calcutta High Court upheld the recommendations of the West Bengal Human Rights Commission, and directed the government to implement them. The West Bengal government has preferred an appeal before a division bench, and the case will continue. This is despite the fact that Section 66A has been struck down (by the Supreme Court in Shreya Singhal & Ors. v. Union of India).

Though noting that he was not an expert, Prof. Mahapatra put forward that it seemed that the freedom of expression of the common man depends on the whims of the ruling parties and the State/Central governments. It is of utmost importance, according to him, to protect the common man's freedom of speech, for his recourse against the government and powerful entities is pitifully limited.

Questions & Comments

Q. A participant stated that the core trouble appears to lie in the power struggle of political parties. Political parties wish to retain power and gather support for their views. Despite progressive laws, it is the Executive that implements the laws. So perhaps what is truly required is police and procedural reforms rather than legislative changes.

A. Members of the panel agreed that there is a need for more sensitivity and awareness amongst the law enforcement agencies and this might be long overdue and much needed step in protecting the rights of citizens.

Q. A participant was interested in understanding how it might be possible to correct the dichotomy between FoE policy and doctrine? The participant also wanted the panel to comment on progressive policy making if any.

A. Members of the panel stated that there is no easy way of correcting this dichotomy between custom and law. Scholars have also argued that the relationship between custom and pernicious social censorship is ambiguous. Towards this, more studies are required to come to a conclusion.

Q. A participant requested clarity on what rights can be created to ensure and support a robust right to freedom of expression, and how this might affect the debates surrounding net neutrality?

A. Members of the panel noted that the Internet allows citizens and corporations to regulate speech on their own (private censorship), and this is problematic. Members of the panel also responded that the existing free speech right does not enable diversity of speech. Social and local customs permit social censorship, and this network effect is clearly visible online; individuals experience a chilling effect. Finally, in the context of net neutrality, the interests of content-producers (OTTs, for instance) are different from those of users. They may benefit economically from walled gardens or from non-interference with traffic-routing, but users may not. Therefore, there is a need for greater clarity before coming to a conclusion about potential net neutrality regulation.

Session 2: Current Realities

Dr. Cherian George, Associate Professor, Hong Kong Baptist University
Dr. George began his talk by highlighting how there is no issue as contentious as offensive speech and how it should be dealt with. The debate around free speech is often framed as a battle between those who support democracy and those who oppose it. Yet, this is also a tension within democracy. Citizens should not be unjustly excluded from participating in democracy (companion rights in Article 19 and 20, ICCPR). Relevant UN institutions and Article 19 have come up with reports and ideals that should be universally adopted - norms that apply to many areas including speech. These norms are different from traditional approaches. For example:

Human Rights Norms	Traditional Approach
Regulate incitement of violence (discrimination, hate, etc.)	Law protects people's feelings from speech that offends
Protect minorities as they are more vulnerable to exploitation and uprooting of their values	Law sides with the majority, to protect mainstream values over minority values
Allow robust criticism of ideas, religions, and beliefs	Law protects religion, beliefs, and ideas from criticism
Strive for balance between liberty and equality	Aims for order and maintenance of status quo
Promote harmony through the media	Enforces harmony by the state

Commenting on the traditional approach, Dr. George noted that if the state protects feelings of offence against speech, it allows groups to use such protection as a political weapon: "hate spin", which is the giving or taking of offence as a political strategy. Hate spin is normally framed as a "visceral, spontaneous reaction" to a video, writing, or speech, etc. Yet, the spontaneous reaction of indignation to speech or content can consistently be revealed to result from conscious manipulation by middlemen for political purposes.

South Asia is similar to West Asia - as the legal frameworks provide immunity for dangerous speech. In practice, this allows for the incitement of discrimination, hostility, and violence. At the same time, the legal frameworks allow for excessive sympathy for wounded feelings, and often the taking of offence turns into a political strategy. Power enters the equation here. The law allows the powerful to take offence and use hate speech against those not in powerful positions.

Dr. George highlighted a number of legal quandaries surrounding freedom of expression including:

Enforcement gaps: There is a lack of enforcement of existing laws against incitement.
Non-regulated zones: Socio-political research demonstrates that many problems cannot be regulated, and yet the law can only deal with what can be regulated. Hate speech is one of these as hate speech is not in the speech itself, but in the meaning that is produced in the mind of those saying/listening.
Verdict-proof opportunities: Political entrepreneurs can use legislative and judicial processes to mainstream hateful views, regardless of how legislature and courts ultimately act. The religious right, for instance, can always pit themselves morally against "secular" decisions of apex authorities (SC, etc.). For example, in the context of the US and Islamophobia - the State legislature in Alabama introduced an anti-Shariah law. Yet, the law is against a non-existent threat and appears to be a ploy to normalize anti-Muslim sentiments, including in political rhetoric. While focusing on winning battles in courts or legislature, the intolerant groups do not need to win a legal court case to introduce and entrench language of intolerance in public discourse and discussion. This demonstrates that there is a need to begin moving away from a purely legal analysis (interpretation or development) of the laws, and a need to begin studying these issues through a sociological lens.

Zakir Khan, Article 19, Bangladesh
Mr. Khan introduced Article 19 and its work in Bangladesh and the rest of South Asia. He noted that Article 19 is involved in documenting and analysing laws and regulations affecting freedom of expression, including in Bangladesh. Article 19 also campaigns for changes in law and policy, and responds from a policy perspective to particular instances of government overreach.

Mr. Khan explained that India has the Information Technology Act, 2000 (am. 2008) ("IT Act"), and in Bangladesh, the equivalent legislation is the Information and Communication Technology Act, 2006 ("ICT Act"). The ICT Act was enacted to bring Bangladeshi law in conformity with international law; i.e. in accordance with the UNCITRAL model law on e-commerce and online transactions. The ICT Act deals with hacking, crimes committed with the use of a computer system, breach of data, breach of computer system, and hardware.

Like the IT Act in India, Bangladesh's ICT Act also criminalizes speech and expression online. For instance, Section 57, ICT Act, criminalizes the publication of "fake, obscene or defaming information in electronic form". Similarly, bringing damage to "the state's image" online is criminalized. In 2013, the Bangladesh Ministry of Law amended the ICT Act to increase penalties for online offences, and allow for the detention of suspected offenders, warrantless arrests and indefinite detention without bail. Bloggers and activists have been protesting these changes, and have been targeted for the same.

Mr. Khan noted that Article 19 has developed a tool to report violations online. Individuals who have experienced violations of their rights online can post this information onto a forum, wherein Article 19 tracks and reports on them, as well as creating awareness about the violation. Any blogger or online activist can come and voice concerns and report their stories. Mr. Khan also highlighted that given the ICT Act and the current environment, online activists and bloggers are particularly threatened. Article 19 seeks to create a safe space for online bloggers and activists by creating anonymity tools, and by creating awareness about the distinctions between political agenda and personal ideology.

Chinmayi Arun, Research Director, Centre for Communication Governance (CCG), National Law University (Delhi)
Ms. Arun began by noting that usually conversations around freedom of expression look at the overlap between FoE and content i.e. the focus is on the speaker and the content. Yet, when one targets the mediator - it shifts the focus as it would be approaching the issue from the intermediary's perspective. When structural violation of free speech happens, it either places the middleman in the position of carrying through the violation, or creates a structure through which speech violations are incentivized.

An example of this is the Bazee.com case. At the time of the case the law was structured in such a way that not only perpetrators of unlawful content were punished, but so were the bodies/persons that circulated illegal content. In regulatory terms this is known as "gatekeeper liability". In the Bazee.com case, a private party put obscene content up for sale and Bazee.com could and did not verify all of the content that was for sale. In the case, the Delhi HC held Avnish Bajaj, the CEO of Bazee.com, liable on the precedent of strict liability for circulation of obscene content. The standard of strict liability was established under Ranjit Udeshi case. The standard of strict liability is still the norm for non-online content, but after Bazee.com, a Parliament Standing Committee created a safe harbour for online intermediaries under Section 79 of the IT Act. As per the provision, if content has been published online, but an intermediary has not edited or directly created the content, it is possible for them to seek immunity from liability for the content. The Parliament Standing Committee then stated that intermediaries ought to exercise due diligence. Thus, the Indian legal regime provides online intermediaries with immunity only if content has not been published or edited by an intermediary and due diligence has been exercised as defined by Rules under the Act. While developing India's legal regime for intermediary liability the Parliamentary Standing Committee did not focus on the impact of such regulation on online speech.

To a large extent, present research and analysis of Freedom of Expression is focused on the autonomy of the speaker/individual. An alternative formulation and way of understanding the right, and one that has been offered by Robert Post through his theory of democratic self governance, is that Freedom of Expression is more about the value of the speech rather than the autonomy of the speaker. In such a theory the object of Freedom of Expression is to ensure diversity of speech in the public sphere. The question to ask then is: "Is curtailment affecting democratic dialogue?" The Supreme Court of India has recognized that people have a right to know/listen/receive information in a variety of cases. Ms. Arun explained that if one accepts this theory of speech, the liability of online intermediaries will be seen differently.

Ms. Arun further explained that in Shreya Singhal, the notice-and-takedown regime under section 79 of the IT Act has been amended, but the blocking regime under section 69A has not. Thus, the government can still use intermediaries as proxies to take down legitimate content, and not provide individuals with the opportunity to to challenge blocking orders. This is because as per the Act, blocking orders must be confidential. Though the blocking regime has not been amended, the Supreme Court has created an additional safeguard by including the requirement that the generator of content has to be contacted (to the extent possible) before the government can pass and act upon a blocking order. Mr. Arun noted that hopefully, when implemented, this will provide a means of recourse for individuals and counter, to some extent, the mandated secrecy of content blocking orders.

Raman Jit Singh Chima, Asia Consultant, Access Now
Mr. Chima began his presentation by noting that the Internet is plagued by a few founding myths. Tim Goldsmith and Jack Wu (in Who Controls the Internet: Illusions of a Borderless World) name one: that no laws apply to the Internet; that, because of the borderless nature of the Internet - data flows through cables without regard for State borders - and thus countries' laws do not affect the Internet. These cyber-anarchists, amongst whom John Perry Barlow of the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) is inspiring, also argue that regulation has no role for the Internet.

Mr. Chima countered these 'myths', arguing that the law affects the Internet in many ways. The US military and Science departments funded the invention of the Internet. So the government was instrumental in the founding of the Internet, and the US Department of Commerce has agreements with ICANN (Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers) to govern the Domain Names System. So the law, contracts and regulation already apply to the Internet.

Mr. Chima further explained that today organisations like EFF and civil society in India argue for, and seek to influence, the creation of regulation for the protection of journalists against unfair and wrongful targeting by the government. This includes moves to protect whistleblowers, to ensure the openness of the Internet and its protection from illegitimate and violative acts against freedom of expression, access and other rights. Some governments, like India, also place conditions in the licenses granted to Internet Service Providers (ISPs) to ensure that they bring access to the rural, unconnected areas. Such law and regulation are not only common, but they are also good; they help the population against virtual wrongdoing.

Mr. Chima pointed out that when States contemplate policy-making for the Internet, they look to a variety of sources. Governments draw upon existing laws and standards (like India with the virtual obscenity offence provision Section, 67 and 67A, IT Act, which is drawn from the real-world penal provision Section 292, IPC) and executive action (regulation, by-laws, changes to procedural law) to create law for the Internet. Additionally, if a government repeats a set of government actions consistently over time, such actions may take on the force of law. Mr. Chima also spoke of web-developers and standards-developers (the technical community), who operate by rules that have the force of law, such as the 'rough consensus and running code' of the IETF (Internet Engineering Task Force). Governments also prescribe conditions ("terms of use") that companies must maintain, permitting or proscribing certain kinds of content on websites and platforms.

Finally, Mr. Chima highlighted international legal and policy standards that play a role in determining the Internet's law and regulation. ICANN, the administrator of the Internet Assigned Numbers Authority (IANA) functions and governing body for the Domain Names System, functions by a set of rules that operate as law, and in the creation of which, the international legal community (governments, companies, civil society and non-commercial users, and the technical community) play a role. The ITU (International Telecommunications Union) and organisations like INTERPOL also play a role.

Mr. Chima explained that when one wants to focus on issues concerning freedom of expression, multiple laws also apply. Different States set different standards. For instance, in the US, the main standards for the Internet came from issues relating to access to certain types of online content. In Reno v. ACLU (1997), the US Supreme Court considered what standards should be created to access obscene and indecent content on the Internet. The judges held that the Internet, as a medium of unprecedented dynamism, deserved the higher protection from governmental overreach.

In Asia, the main legal standards for the Internet came from Internet commerce: the UNCITRAL model law, which prescribed provisions best suited to the smoother commercial utilization of a fast and growing medium, became the foundation for Internet-related law in Asian states. Predictably, this did not offer the strongest rights protections, but rather, focused on putting in place the most effective penalties. But when Asian states drew from the European UNCITRAL law, many forgot that European states are already bound by the European Convention for Human Rights, the interpretation of which has granted robust protections to Internet-related rights.

Mr. Chima provided the example of Pakistan's new Cybercrime Bill. The Bill has troubling provisions for freedom of expression, and minimal to no due process protections. While drafting the law, Pakistan has drawn largely from model cybercrime laws from the Council of Europe, which are based on the Budapest Convention. In Europe and the US, States have strong parallel protections for rights, but States in Asia and Africa do not.

Mr. Chima concluded that when one talks of freedom of expression online, it is important to also remember the roles of intermediaries and companies. The ISPs can be made liable for content that flows through their wires, through legal mechanisms such as license provisions. ISPs can also be made to take further control over the networks, or to make some websites harder to access (like the Internet Watch Foundation's blacklist). When policy organisations consider this, it is critical that they ask whether industry bodies should be permitted to do this without public discussion, on the basis of government pressure.

Questions & Comments

Q. Participants asked for panel members to talk about the context in which bloggers find themselves in danger in Bangladesh.

A. Panel members stated that the courts are not fair to bloggers as often they side with government. It was added that courts have labelled bloggers as atheist, and subsequently all bloggers are being associated with the label. Further, it was added that most people who are outraged, do not even know what blogging is, and people associate blogging with blasphemy and as opposing religious beliefs. It was also noted that in Bangladesh, while you see violations of FoE from the State, you see more violations of blogger rights from non-state actors.

Q. Participants asked if there is anything specific about the Internet that alters how we should consider hate speech online and their affective/visceral impact.

A. Pa nel members noted that they are still grappling with the question of what difference the Internet makes, but noted that it has indeed complicated an already complex issue as there is always the question about political entrepreneurs using convenient content to foment fires.

Q. Participants questioned panel members about how the right to offend is protected in jurisdictions across Asia where there is still tension between classical liberalism and communitarian ideologies, and where the individuated nature of rights is not clearly established or entrenched.

A. Panel members responded by stating that when one compares the US, Indonesia and India, the US seems to be able to strike a balance between free speech and other competing interests as they are committed to free speech and committed to religious tolerance and plurality of competing interests. Panel members also added that the fabric of civil society also has an impact. For example, Indonesian civil society is simultaneously religious and secular and pro-democracy. In India, there seems to be a tension between secular and religious groups. In Indonesia, people are moving to religion for comfort, while still seeking a world that is religious and secular.

Q. Participants asked for clarification on ways to approach regulation of hate speech given that hate speech is not just about a particular kind of threatening speech, but encompasses rumours and innuendos.

A . Panel members acknowledged that more research needs to be done in this area and added that applying the socio-cultural lens on such issues would be beneficial.

Q. Participants asked if panel members had a framework for a regulating the content practices of private actors, who are sometimes more powerful than the state and also enforcing censorship.

A. Panel members responded that private censorship is an important issue that needs to be reflected upon in some depth, though a framework is far from being developed even as research is ongoing in the space.

Session 3: Looking Ahead

The third and final session of the conference aimed to find principles and methods to achieve beneficial and effective regulation of the Internet. One of the core aims was the search for the right balance between the dangers of the Internet (and its unprecedented powers of dissemination) and the citizens' interest in a robust right to freedom of expression. Mr. Sutirtho Patranobis, Assistant Editor with the Hindustan Times (Sri Lanka desk, previously China correspondent), shared his experience with governmental regulation of online free speech in China and Sri Lanka. Ms. Karuna Nandy,Advocate, Supreme Court of India, analysed the Indian Supreme Court's decision in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India (March 24, 2015), and sought to draw lessons for the current debate on net neutrality in India. Ms. Geeta Seshu, founder and editor of the online magazine The Hoot, offered an expanded definition of freedom of speech, focusing on universal access as the imperative. Finally, Mr. Pranesh Prakash, Policy Director, Centre for Internet & Society, offered his views on net neutrality and the issue of zero-rating, as well as arguing for an increased, cooperative role of civil society in creating awareness on issues relating to the Internet.

Sutirtho Patranobis, Assistant Editor, Hindustan Times
During his career, Mr. Patranobis was the China correspondent for the Hindustan Times. Mr. Patranobis began his presentation by sharing his experiences in China. In China, multiple online platforms have become sources of news for citizens. Chinese citizens, especially the urban young, spend increasing amounts of time on their mobile phones and the Internet, as these are the major sources of news and entertainment in the country.

The Chinese government's attitude towards freedom of expression has been characterized by increasing control over these online platforms. The includes control over global companies like Google and Facebook, which have negotiated with the Chinese government to find mutually acceptable operating rules (acceptable to the government and the company, but in most cases unfavourable to the citizens) or have faced being blocked or filtered from the country. Mr. Patranobis noted that free speech regulation in China has evolved into a sophisticated mechanism for control and oppression, and the suppression of dissent. Not only China, but Sri Lanka has also adopted similar approaches to dealing with freedom of expression.

In China, free speech regulations have evolved with an aim to curtail collective action and dissent. China's censorship programmes work towards silencing expression that can represent, reinforce or spur social mobilisation. Mr. Patranobis explained that these programmes aim to put an end to all collective activities (current or future) that may be at odds with government policies. Therefore, any online activity that exposes government action as repressive, corrupted or draconian is meted out harsh treatment. Indeed it is possible to see that there are sharp increases in online censorship and crackdowns when the government implements controversial policies offline.

Mr. Patranobis went on to discuss the nature of objectionable content, and the manner in which different jurisdictions deal with the same. Social and cultural context, governmental ideologies, and political choices dictate the nature of objectionable content in States such as China and Sri Lanka. On the flipside, media literacy, which plays a big role in ensuring an informed and aware public, is extremely low in Sri Lanka, as well as in many other States in South Asia.

Mr. Patranobis raised the question of how the Internet can be regulated while retaining freedom of expression - noting that the way forward is uncertain. In Sri Lanka, for instance, research by UNESCO shows that the conflicting policy objectives are unresolved; these first need to be balanced before robust freedom of expression can be sustained. The Internet is a tool, after all; a tool that can connect people, that can facilitate the spread of knowledge and information, to lift people from the darkness of poverty. The Internet can also be a tool to spread hate and to divide societies and peoples. Finding the right balance, contextualised according to the needs of the citizens and the State, is key to good regulation.

Karuna Nundy, Advocate, Supreme Court of India
Ms. Nandy focused her presentation on two issues currently raging in India's free speech debates: the Supreme Court's reasoning on Sections 66A and 69A, IT Act, in Shreya Singhal & Ors. v. Union of India (Supreme Court, March 24, 2015), and issues of access and innovation in the call for a net neutrality regulation. She stated that the doctrine of the "marketplace of ideas" endorsed by Justices Nariman and Chelameswar in Shreya Singhal speaks to the net neutrality debate.

Ms. Nandy held that a law can be challenged as unconstitutional if it prohibits acts that are legitimate and constitutional. Such an argument refers to the impugned law's "overbroad impact". For instance, the Supreme Court struck down Section 66A, IT Act, on the ground (among others) that the impugned section leads to the prohibition and criminalisation of legitimate and protected speech. Cases such asChintaman Rao v. State of Madhya Pradesh [(1950) SCR 759] and Kameshwar Prasad v. State of Bihar [1962 Supp. (3) SCR 369] speak to this principle. They expand the principle of overbreadth to include the notion of "chilling effect" - i.e., situations where overbroad blocking leads to the prohibition of legitimate constitutional speech. In such situations, citizens are unsure what constitutes protected speech and what does not, leading to a chilling effect and self-censorship for fear of reprisals.

In Shreya Singhal, the Supreme Court also considered the "reasonable person" doctrine that has been developed under the law of obscenity. India had initially adopted the Hicklin test, under which the test to determine what is obscene depended on whether prurient minds (minds that have a tendency to be corrupted) would find the impugned material lascivious and corrupting. This test, laid down in Ranjit Udeshi v. State of Maharashtra [AIR 1965 SC 881] and altered/refined by decades of jurisprudence, was put to rest in Aveek Sarkar v. State of West Bengal [AIR 2014 SC 1495]. In Aveek Sarkar, the Supreme Court adopted the "community standards" test to determine obscene content. According to Ms. Nandy, the "community standards" test rests on the doctrine of reasonable persons. Ms. Nandy noted that in effect there is a need for more police officers to protect those who produce legitimate content from hecklers.

Quoting from the U.S. decision of Whitney v. California [71 L. Ed. 1095], Ms. Nandy submitted that:

" It is the function of speech to free men from the bondage of irrational fears. To justify suppression of free speech there must be reasonable ground to fear that serious evil will result if free speech is practiced. There must be reasonable ground to believe that the danger apprehended is imminent. There must be reasonable ground to believe that the evil to be prevented is a serious one. "

On the issue of website blocking and the Supreme Court's reasoning on Section 69A, IT Act, in Shreya Singhal, Ms. Nandy explained that the Additional Solicitor General had conceded a number of points during the oral arguments. She further explained that website blocking can be applied when the Central Government is satisfied that there is a necessity for it. However, reasons must be recorded in writing. Also, according to the Supreme Court's interpretation of the Information Technology (Procedure and Safeguards for Blocking for Access of Information by Public) Rules, 2009 (" Blocking Rules"), both the intermediary and the originator of the communication (the content-creator) have to be given a chance to be heard.

Rule 16 of the Blocking Rules, which mandates confidentiality of all blocking requests and orders, was also discussed in Shreya Singhal. Though some confusion has arisen about the Rule's interpretation, Ms. Nandy submitted that Rule 16 has been read down. There is no longer a strict, all-encompassing requirement of confidentiality. While the identity of the complainant and the exact nature of the complaint must be kept confidential, the blocking order and the reasoning behind the order are no longer bound by Rule 16. This is because in §109 of the judgment, the Supreme Court accepts that writ petitions can lie on the basis of blocking orders. In order for writs to lie, affected parties must first be aware of the existence and content of the blocking order. Therefore, Ms. Nandy explained, the effect of the Supreme Court's reasoning is that the confidentiality requirement in Rule 16 has been read down.

On net neutrality, Ms. Nandy argued that zero-rating is an efficient solution to providing universal access to the Internet. Services like Internet.org are not strictly market-driven. This is because there is not a large demand for Facebook or specific over-the-top (OTT) service providers. In speaking about the marketplace for ideas in Shreya Singhal, the Supreme Court did not indirectly outlaw services seeking to balance access with diversity of speech. Ms. Nandy held that price discrimination in the provision of telecom, broadband and mobile Internet services already exists. In light of this, the focus should the provision of these services on the basis of consumer choice.

Geeta Seshu, The Hoot
Ms. Seshu began her presentation by noting that one's perspective on online censorship cannot be the same as that on traditional censorship. Traditional censorship cuts off an individual's access to the censored material, but on the Internet, material that is censored in traditional media finds free and wide distribution. One's conceptualisation of freedom of expression and curtailment of this right must include access to the medium as a crucial part. To this end, it is important to not forget that access to the Internet is controlled by a limited number of Internet service and content providers. Thus, a large section of the population in India cannot exercise their right to free speech because they do not have access to the Internet.

In this context, it is important to understand the way in which the digital rollout is happening in India. Ms. Seshu explained that the rollout process lacks transparency, and noted the example of the 4G/LTE rollout plan in India. There is, of course, a diversity of content: those that have access to the Internet have the ability to exercise their right to free speech in diverse ways. However, introducing access into the free speech universe highlights many inequalities that exist in the right; for instance, Dalit groups in India have limited access to the Internet, and some kinds of content receive limited airtime.

Importantly, Ms. Seshu argued that the government and other entities use technology to regulate content availability. Policymakers exploit the technology and architecture of the networks to monitor, surveil and censor content. For instance, one may see the UID scheme as an adaptation of technology to facilitate not only service-provision, but also as a move towards a Big Brother state. Civil society and citizens need to study and respond to the ways in which technology has been used against them. Unfortunately, the debates surrounding regulation do not afford space for Internet users to be part of the discussion. In order to turn this around, it is important that citizens' and users' rights are developed and introduced into the regulatory equation.

Pranesh Prakash, Policy Director, Centre for Internet & Society
Taking up where Ms. Seshu left off, Mr. Prakash wished to explore whether the Internet was merely an enabler of discussion - allowing, for instance, a ruckus to be raised around the consultation paper of the Telecom Regulatory Authority in India (TRAI) on Over-The-Top (OTT) services and net neutrality - or whether the Internet positively adds value. The Internet is, of course, a great enabler. The discussions surrounding OTTs and net neutrality are an example: in response to the TRAI consultation, a campaign titled "Save the Internet" resulted in over 9.5 lakh comments being submitted to the TRAI. It is inconceivable that such a widespread public discussion on so complex a topic (net neutrality) could take place without the Internet's facilitation.

But, Mr. Prakash held, it is important to remember that the Internet is the tool, the platform, for such mobilisation. Campaigns and conversations such as those on net neutrality could not take place without the organisations and people involved in it. Civil society organisations have played prominent roles in this regard, creating awareness and well-informed discussions. For Mr. Prakash, civil society organisations play their role best when they create such public awareness, and it is important, to play to a stakeholders strengths. Some organisations are effective campaigners, while others (such as CIS) are competent at research, analysis and dissemination.

According to Mr. Prakash, it is equally important to remember that successful discussions, campaigns or debates (such as the ongoing one on net neutrality) do not occur solely because of one organisation's strengths, or indeed because of civil society alone. Networks are especially critical in successful campaigns and policy changes. As researchers, we may not always know where our work is read, but sometimes they reach unexpected venues. For instance, one of Mr. Prakash's papers was used by the hacker collective Anonymous for a local campaign, and he was made aware of it only accidentally. Mr. Prakash noted that civil society has to also accept its failures, pointing to the controversy surrounding the Goondas Act in Karnataka. Where there are strong counter-stakeholders (such as the film lobby in south Indian states), civil society's efforts alone may not lead to success.

On net neutrality, Mr. Prakash noted the example of a strategy employed by the Times of India newspaper, when it undercut its competitors by slashing its own prices. Such moves are not unknown in the market, and they have their benefits. Consumers benefit from the lowered prices. For instance, were a Whatsapp or Facebook pack to be introduced by a telecom operator, the consumers may choose to buy this cheap, limited data pack. This is beneficial for consumers, and also works to expand access to the Internet. At the same time, diversity of speech and consumer choice is severely restricted, as these companies and telecom operators can create 'walled gardens' of information and services. Mr. Prakash put forth that if we can facilitate competitive zero-rating, and ensure that anti-competitive cross-subsidization does not occur, then perhaps zero-rated products can achieve access without forcing a trade off between diversity and choice.

Finally, on the issue of website blocking and takedowns under Sections 69A and 79, IT Act, Mr. Prakash noted that the Shreya Singhal judgment does nothing to restrict the judiciary's powers to block websites. According to Mr. Prakash, at the moment, the Shreya Singhal judgment relieves intermediaries of the responsibility to take down content if they receive private complaints about content. After the judgment, intermediaries will lose their immunity under Section 79, IT Act, only if they refuse to comply with takedown requests from government agencies or judicial orders.

But, as Mr. Prakash explained, the judiciary is itself a rogue website-blocker. In the past few years, the judiciary has periodically ordered the blocking of hundreds of websites. Such orders have resulted in the blocking of a large number of legitimate websites (including, at one point, Google Drive and Github). To ensure that our freedom of expression online is effectively protected, Mr. Prakash argued that ways to stop the judiciary from going on such a rampage must be devised.

Questions & Comments

A. Participants and panel members commented that researchers and commentators err by making analogies between the Internet and other media like newspapers, couriers, TV, satellite, cable, etc. The architecture of the Internet is very different even from cable. On the Internet, traffic flows both ways, whereas cable is not bi-directional. Moreover, pricing models for newspapers have nothing in common with those on the Internet. The comparisons in net neutrality debates stand the danger of incorrectness, and we must guard against that. Zero-rating and net neutrality issues in high-access countries are very different from the issues in low-access countries like India.

B. Participants and panel members commented that access and availability must play a predominant role in thinking about freedom of expression. In India, we are technologically far behind other states, though we have potential. The real end-goal of this is the convergence of services and information, with the user at the centre of the ecosystem. Our technological capabilities include satellite and spectrum; the best spectrum bands are lying vacant and can be re-framed. For this, the government must be educated.

C. Participants and panel members commented that in high-access states, the net neutrality issues surround competition and innovation (since there is no or very little ISP competition and switching costs are not low), while in India and France, where there is already competition amongst providers, access plays a crucial role. On the Internet, the networking or engineering aspects can disrupt the content carried over the network, so that is also a concern.

D. Participants and panel members commented that zero-rating is both a blessing and a curse. Zero-rating would not be detrimental in a market with perfect information and competition. But the reality is information asymmetry and imperfect competition. If today, we were to allow zero-rating, diversity would suffer and we would be left with 'walled gardens'.

Conclusion

The conference addressed a range of issues characteristic of debates surrounding freedom of expression in India and South Asia. Beginning with the conceptual understanding of freedom of expression, panellists advocated an expanded definition, where the right to free speech is teleological. The panellists considered freedom of speech as a tool to ensure diversity of speech, both horizontally and vertically. Towards this end, panellists gave several suggestions:

First , policymakers and scholars must understand freedom of speech as a right of both the speaker and the listener/reader, and carve out a separate listeners' right. Panellists expanded upon this to show the implications for the debate on net neutrality, cross-media ownership and website-blocking, for instance.

Second , there is a need for scholars to examine the historical dichotomy between the policy and jurisprudence of free speech in India and other contexts across South Asia. Such an approach to scholarship and policy research would help predict future government policy (such as in the case of the Indian government's stance towards Section 66A following the Supreme Court's decision in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India) and strategize for the same.

Third , particularly with regard to the Internet, there is a need for policy advocates and policy makers to "bust" the founding myths of the Internet, and look to various domestic and international sources of law and regulation. Studies of regulation of freedom of speech on the Internet in different jurisdictions (Bangladesh, China, Sri Lanka) indicate differing government approaches, and provide examples to learn from. The interpretation and consequences of Shreya Singhal on website-blocking and intermediary liability in India provide another learning platform.

Fourth , panellists discussed the possibilities of cooperation and strategies among civil society and policy organisations in India. Taking the example of the Save the Internet campaign surrounding net neutrality in India, panellists speculated on the feasibility of using the Internet itself as a tool to campaign for governance and policy reform. Together with the audience, the panellists identified several areas that are ripe for research and advocacy, such as net neutrality and zero-rating, and citizens' free speech right as being separate from governmental and corporate interests.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/freedom-of-expression-in-a-digital-age

Freedom of Expression Gagged

chinmayi — 2013-02-18T08:55:36Z

The use of law to bully people into silence, called ‘heckler’s veto’, is not unique to India, writes Chinmayi Arun in this op-ed published in Business Line on February 15, 2013.

Click to read the original published in the Business Line.

Freedom of expression in India is under threat. This year we have the Tamil Nadu government’s ban on Vishwaroopam, the Ashis Nandy FIR, the smothering of Kashmir’s first all girls rock band’s music, and the removal of semi-nude paintings of Hindu deities from an art gallery upon the police’s ‘suggestion’. Another Rushdie-banning controversy is upon us, and yet another Facebook user’s arrest has made the news.

Clearly, our right to freedom of expression is under an ongoing siege. The onslaught comes in varied forms: bullying by members of society, informal government action with the overhanging threat of the law, and direct use of the law (and of a variety of legislations within it). Each form is encouraged, exacerbated even, by our problematic interpretation of freedom of expression principles. Our law allows a group of intolerant people to silence a speaker by creating a threat to public order or by threatening the speaker directly, and our state is proving utterly ineffectual in protecting speech from intolerance.

Instruments Deployed

India’s first Kashmiri all-girls band is tragic proof of horizontal attacks on speech – their music was silenced by the grandmufti’s declaring it ‘un-Islamic’, and the attendant social pressure that tends to follow. They were not protected from this horizontal attack. The Palghar incident also had echoes of horizontal pressure, which was used to directly bully Shaheen Dhada, via friends advising her to apologise and strangers slapping her, before the instrument of the law was used to bully her further.

The instrument of the law can be used in invisible, informal ways, as Bangalore’s Chitrakala Parishath incident illustrates. Here, the pressure of police ‘suggestion’, carrying the implied threat of the force of the law, was used to ensure that semi-nude paintings of Hindu deities were removed from an exhibition. It appears that this police ‘suggestion’ was motivated by the fear that those paintings could trigger law and order problems.

Vishwaroopam was banned using the law, specifically section 144 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, which empowers the government to issue orders “in urgent cases of nuisance or apprehended danger”. However, orders issued under section 144 would still need to observe the boundaries drawn for it in Article 19(2) of the Constitution.

Freedom and Public Order

Some may argue that controversial or offensive speech can legitimately be restricted since “public order” is one of the grounds for which our Constitution permits the restriction of the freedom of expression. However the original text of the Constitution did not include “public order” among its permissible grounds for restriction. This was inserted in the First Amendment of the Constitution, but was fortunately accompanied by the word ‘reasonable’ before restriction, thus ensuring that the freedom of expression can only be reasonably restricted under the exceptional circumstances listed in the Constitution.

This insertion of ‘public order’ came after the Supreme Court’s invalidation of government pre-censorship of speech on public order grounds in Romesh Thapar v. State of Madras (1950), declaring that the Constitution required that “nothing less than endangering the foundations of the State or threatening its overthrow could justify curtailment of the rights to freedom of speech and expression”. Therefore, Parliament amended the Constitution to expand the grounds on which the state could restrict speech, and included ‘public order’ among the expanded grounds. The trouble with this is that the intolerant are now able to create a public order problem to silence speakers.

The Supreme Court of India, in Babulal Parate vs State Of Maharashtra (1961) found that public order must be “maintained in advance in order to ensure it”, and ruled that restriction of Article 19 freedoms of expression and assembly in the interests of public order is permissible. However, all such restrictions must continue to satisfy the reasonability test laid down in the Constitution, providing our judiciary with the opportunity to ensure that intolerance does not continue to oppress speech.

The Heckler's Veto

The use of law to bully people into silence is not unique to India. Harry Kalven termed this ‘the hecklers’ veto’: if police action silences speakers for fear that the offended listeners might create a law and order problem, this effectively allows the listeners to veto what the speaker can say. There was a time when the heckler’s veto held sway in the United States and the United Kingdom. However, both countries’ legal principles have evolved to stop pandering to the intolerant, and it is time that India does the same.

Justice Hugo Black of the US Supreme Court, in his Feiner v. New York (1951) dissent, argued that the police must make all reasonable efforts to protect the speaker’s constitutional right to speak before interfering with this right. This dissenting opinion was later hailed as visionary. The US Supreme Court subsequently gradually recognised the evils of the heckler’s veto, which privileges and encourages intolerance. The United Kingdom also progressively narrowed its reading of the Public Order Act to ensure that speech is not restricted unless immediate violence is feared, and is now decriminalising insults which are not directed at a clearly identifiable victim.

The Indian Supreme Court’s judgment in the Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram (1989) echoes Justice Black’s denouncement of the heckler’s veto. It declares, “freedom of expression cannot be suppressed on account of threat of demonstration and processions or threats of violence. That would tantamount to …surrender to blackmail and intimidation. It is the duty of the State to protect the freedom of expression since it is a liberty guaranteed against the State. The State cannot plead its inability to handle the hostile audience problem”. However other judgments have shied away from confronting the fact that speech-related public order problems created by intolerance, not by speech.

Our legal system needs to take a firm, consistent stand against the heckler’s veto. We need to stop mirroring the evils of outdated law in fresh legislations like the Information Technology Act, and work instead to remove law and practices that institutionalise intolerance.

(The author teaches at National Law University, Delhi and is Fellow, Centre for Internet and Society.)

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-hindubusinessline-feb-15-2013-chinmayi-arun-freedom-of-expression-gagged

Freedom debate takes a new course

praskrishna — 2012-07-22T16:34:54Z

The focus is now on the dubious roles played by private entities on what goes online, says Deepa Kurup in this article published in the Hindu on July 1, 2012.

Deepa Kurup's article was published in the Hindu on July 1, 2012. Pranesh Prakash is quoted.

Debates on censoring the Internet, till recently, largely pitted the ‘people’, that is Net users, against the government which was perceived as seeking to stifle free speech on the Web, a medium that is believed to be vastly powerful and democratic. However, in recent weeks, the focus of the discourse has shifted from shrill anti-government stances to the dubious role that private entities — that often projected themselves as protectors of free speech in the earlier debates — play in controlling this important resource.

That there are various private interests — ranging from Internet service providers, Web companies to the entertainment industry — at stake here is a no-brainer. However, this came to the fore only last month, when two major Internet service providers, Airtel and Reliance, in a pre-emptive move to comply with a Madras High Court order seeking to curb piracy of regional films, blocked access to at least a dozen sites. The blocked sites not only included file-sharing sites but also legitimate Web businesses such as video-sharing sites Vimeo and Daily Motion, that largely host high-quality original videos, and bookmarking sites such as Pastebin.

What was noteworthy is that the High Court did not order the blocking of these websites, and merely ruled that piracy of regional films such as Dammu and 3 be curbed. The order was in response to a petition by makers of the Tamil film 3, yes, the same movie whose claim to fame was the viral Internet hit ‘Kolaveri di’, made popular because thousands of netizens freely shared and viewed the video.

Not limited to regional films, there has been a steady increase in the number of Indian movie production houses, such as Reliance Entertainment Ltd. and Viacom18 Motion Pictures, seeking ex-parte injunctions (popularly known as John Doe or Ashok Kumar orders against unknown persons) to curb piracy of their copyrighted material. Most recently, Viacom18 went to court seeking pre-emptive orders for last Friday’s release, Gangs of Wasseypur, a move that in the context of increased awareness on such laws and their chilling effect on the Internet, drew much flak from netizens. Even in the past, ISPs and Web companies, eager to sidestep possible legal landmines, are known to have blocked entire sites in response to government requests.

Partial Relief?

Last week, the Madras High Court, ruling on an appeal filed by a consortium of ISPs, decreed that ISPs need only block a few specific URLs that carry pirated content, and not entire websites. Following this clarification from the court, ISPs unblocked the sites.

Though many rejoiced over the order, seeing it as an indicator of the success of campaigns — some overt and others more covert such as the hacktivist group Anonymous — others have been more guarded in their response to this.

Pranesh Prakash, lawyer and copyright expert at the Centre for Internet and Society, feels that the victory is only partial given that the court has endorsed partial blocking of Web links. He says: “Under Indian copyright law, ISPs cannot be liable for copyright infringement committed by their users. So while it is good that the court clarified that its order was limited in its scope, it is possible to read even this as going far beyond that which is allowed under the law.” Mr. Prakash points out that the copyright law can be used for censorship, for instance, in the case of the Satish Seth video that Reliance Entertainment has gotten removed from YouTube by citing copyright infringement.”

Hacktivist Exposes

The Satish Seth video was one among many links part of a list published by hacktivist group Anonymous India, on the blog Kafila. The group claimed to have hacked into the servers of Reliance Communication and found a list of 434 Web addresses that were blocked.

Not surprisingly, at least 45 of them were blocked on Reliance request and had little to do with government or court orders. While Reliance has denied the hack and said that list is not authentic, to the media, the list brought to the fore the uneasy role that private companies could play in who controls content on the Web.

Though it is unknown what the Satish Seth links originally contained, a simple search on the web reveals that Mr. Seth is a senior employee in the Reliance Group. These links were later unblocked.

Though some of the distributed denial of service (DDOS) attacks orchestrated by the group that calls itself Anonymous India targeted government websites, a major target have been these private companies.

In that sense, the contribution of Anonymous India has been interesting in changing the narrative of the discourse to include how private companies that have off late taken to sermonising on the merits of unrestricted freedom on the Web, could easily manipulate the system to further their own interests.

This uneasy equation was also exposed in a ‘sting operation’ conducted by the CIS in 2010, in which Web companies eagerly complied to unsubstantiated or dummy take-down notices sent out.

While the first round of activism focussed on the government’s proposal to clampdown on what it called ‘hate speech’ on the Web by fixing intermediary liabilities (through guidelines it notified in April 2011), this round has dealt with the complex issue of copyrights. A difficult issue worldwide, like in the U.S. for instance where the controversial Bill SOPA sought to block sites that host copyrighted material, here too huge entertainment lobbies, backed by big business, are likely to play a bigger and more forceful role in this debate.

This is apparent even in the Google Transparency Report, released earlier this month, which shows the number of copyright removal notices received for Search (not including its other services such as YouTube and Blogger) in the past year is a climbing statistic.

In June alone, Google Search received 2,221,212 takedown requests from copyright owners and reporting organisations. Not surprisingly, though the list of requestors is topped by software major Microsoft, among other top contenders are all the major production houses.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/freedom-debate-takes-a-new-course

Free Speech Policy in India: Community, Custom, Censorship, and the Future of Internet Regulation

bhairav — 2015-08-23T10:12:16Z

This note summarises my panel contribution to the conference on Freedom of Expression in a Digital Age at New Delhi on 21 April 2015, which was organised by the Observer Research Foundation (ORF) and the Centre for Internet and Society (CIS) in collaboration with the Internet Policy Observatory of the Center for Global Communication Studies (CGCS) at the Annenberg School for Communication, University of Pennsylvania

Download the Note here (PDF, 103 Kb)

Preliminary

There has been legitimate happiness among many in India at the Supreme Court’s recent decision in the Shreya Singhal case to strike down section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 ("IT Act") for unconstitutionally fettering the right to free speech on the Internet. The judgment is indeed welcome, and reaffirms the Supreme Court’s proud record of defending the freedom of speech, although it declined to interfere with the government’s stringent powers of website blocking. As the dust settles there are reports the government is re-grouping to introduce fresh law, allegedly stronger to secure easier convictions, to compensate the government’s defeat.

Case Law and Government Policy

India’s constitutional courts have a varied history of negotiating the freedom of speech that justifiably demands study. But, in my opinion, inadequate attention is directed to the government’s history of free speech policy. It is possible to discern from the government’s actions over the last two centuries a relatively consistent narrative of governance that seeks to bend the individual’s right to speech to its will. The defining characteristics of this narrative – the government’s free speech policy – emerge from a study of executive and legislative decisions chiefly in relation to the press, that continue to shape policy regarding the freedom of expression on the Internet.

India’s corpus of free speech case law is not uniform nor can it be since, for instance, the foundational issues that attend hate speech are quite different from those that inform contempt of court. So too, Indian free speech policy has been varied, captive to political compulsions and disparate views regarding the interests of the community, governance and nation-building. There has been consistent tension between the individual and the community, as well as the role of the government in enforcing the expectations of the community when thwarted by law.

Dichotomy between Modern and Native Law

To understand free speech policy, it is useful to go back to the early colonial period in India, when Governor-General Warren Hastings established a system of courts in Bengal’s hinterland to begin the long process of displacing traditional law to create a modern legal system. By most accounts, pre-modern Indian law was not prescriptive, Austinian, and uniform. Instead, there were several legal systems and a variety of competing and complementary legal sources that supported different interpretations of law within most legal systems. J. Duncan M. Derrett notes that the colonial expropriation of Indian law was marked by a significant tension caused by the repeatedly-stated objective of preserving some fields of native law to create a dichotomous legal structure. These efforts were assisted by orientalist jurists such as Henry Thomas Colebrook whose interpretation of the dharmasastras heralded a new stage in the evolution of Hindu law.

In this background, it is not surprising that Elijah Impey, a close associate of Hastings, simultaneously served as the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court at Fort William while overseeing the Sadr Diwani Adalat, a civil court applying Anglo-Hindu law for Hindus, and the Sadr Faujdari Adalat, a criminal court applying Anglo-Islamic law to all natives. By the mid-nineteenth century, this dual system came under strain in the face of increasing colonial pressure to rationalise the legal system to ensure more effective governance, and native protest at the perceived insensitivity of the colonial government to local customs.

Criminal Law and Free Speech in the Colony

In 1837, Thomas Macaulay wrote the first draft of a new comprehensive criminal law to replace indigenous law and custom with statutory modern law. When it was enacted as the Indian Penal Code in 1860 ("IPC"), it represented the apogee of the new colonial effort to recreate the common law in India. The IPC’s enactment coincided with the growth and spread of both the press and popular protest in India. The statute contained the entire gamut of public-order and community-interest crimes to punish unlawful assembly, rioting, affray, wanton provocation, public nuisance, obscenity, defiling a place of worship, disturbing a religious assembly, wounding religious feelings, and so on. It also criminalised private offences such as causing insult, annoyance, and intimidation. These crimes continue to be invoked in India today to silence individual opinion and free speech, including on the Internet. Section 66A of the IT Act utilised a very similar vocabulary of censorship.

Interestingly, Macaulay’s IPC did not feature the common law offences of sedition and blasphemy or the peculiar Indian crime of promoting inter-community enmity; these were added later. Sedition was criminalised by section 124A at the insistence of Barnes Peacock and applied successfully against Indian nationalist leaders including Bal Gangadhar Tilak in 1897 and 1909, and Mohandas Gandhi in 1922. In 1898, the IPC was amended again to incorporate section 153A to criminalise the promotion of enmity between different communities by words or deeds. And, in 1927, a more controversial amendment inserted section 295A into the IPC to criminalise blasphemy. All three offences have been recently used in India against writers, bloggers, professors, and ordinary citizens.

Loss of the Right to Offend

The two amendments of 1898 and 1927, which together proscribed the promotion of inter-community enmity and blasphemy, represent the dismantling of the right to offend in India. But, oddly, they were defended by the colonial government in the interests of native sensibilities. The proceedings of the Imperial Legislative Council reveal several members, including Indians, were enthusiastic about the amendments. For some, the amendments were a necessary corrective action to protect community honour from subversive speech. The 1920s were a period of foment in India as the freedom movement intensified and communal tension mounted. In this environment, it was easy to fuse the colonial interest in strong administration with a nationalist narrative that demanded the retrieval of Indian custom to protect native sensibilities from being offended by individual free speech, a right derived from modern European law. No authoritative jurist could be summoned to prove or refute the claim that native custom privileged community honour.

Sadly the specific incident which galvanised the amendment of 1927, which established the crime of blasphemy in India, would not appear unfamiliar to a contemporary observer. Mahashay Rajpal, an Arya Samaj activist, published an offensive pamphlet of the Prophet Muhammad titled Rangeela Rasool, for which he was arrested and tried but acquitted in the absence of specific blasphemy provisions. With his speech being found legal, Rajpal was released and given police protection but Ilam Din, a Muslim youth, stabbed him to death. Instead of supporting its criminal law and strengthening its police forces to implement the decisions of its courts, the colonial administration surrendered to the threat of public disorder and enacted section 295A of the IPC.

Protest and Community Honour

The amendment of 1927 marks an important point of rupture in the history of Indian free speech. It demonstrated the government’s policy intention of overturning the courts to restrict the individual’s right to speech when faced with public protest. In this way, the combination of public disorder and the newly-created crimes of promoting inter-community enmity and blasphemy opened the way for the criminal justice system to be used as a tool by natives to settle their socio-cultural disputes. Both these crimes address group offence; they do not redress individual grievances. In so far as they are designed to endorse group honour, these crimes signify the community’s attempt to suborn modern law and individual rights.

Almost a century later, the Rangeela Rasool affair has become the depressing template for illegal censorship in India: fringe groups take offence at permissible speech, crowds are marshalled to articulate an imagined grievance, and the government capitulates to the threat of violence. This formula has become so entrenched that governance has grown reflexively suppressive, quick to silence speech even before the perpetrators of lumpen violence can receive affront. This is especially true of online speech, where censorship is driven by the additional anxiety brought by the difficulty of Internet regulation. In this race to be offended the government plays the parochial referee, acting to protect indigenous sensibilities from subversive but legal speech.

The Censorious Post-colony

Independence marked an opportunity to remake Indian governance in a freer image. The Constituent Assembly had resolved not to curb the freedom of speech in Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution on account of public order. In two cases from opposite ends of the country where right-wing and left-wing speech were punished by local governments on public order grounds, the Supreme Court acted on the Constituent Assembly’s vision and struck down the laws in question. Free speech, it appeared, would survive administrative concerns, thanks to the guarantee of a new constitution and an independent judiciary. Instead Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and his cabinet responded with the First Amendment in 1951, merely a year after the Constitution was enacted, to create three new grounds of censorship, including public order. In 1963, a year before he demitted office, the Sixteenth Amendment added an additional restriction.

Nehru did not stop at amending the Constitution, he followed shortly after with a concerted attempt to stage-manage the press by de-legitimising certain kinds of permissible speech.

Under Justice G. S. Rajadhyaksha, the government constituted the First Press Commission which attacked yellow journalism, seemingly a sincere concern, but included permissible albeit condemnable speech that was directed at communities, indecent or vulgar, and biased. Significantly, the Commission expected the press to only publish speech that conformed to the developmental and social objectives of the government. In other words, Nehru wanted the press to support his vision of India and used the imperative of nation-building to achieve this goal. So, the individual right to offend communities was taken away by law and policy, and speech that dissented from the government’s socio-economic and political agenda was discouraged by policy. Coupled with the new constitutional ground of censorship on account of public order, the career of free speech in independent India began uncertainly.

How to regulate permissible speech?

Despite the many restrictions imposed by law on free speech, Indian free speech policy has long been engaged with the question of how to regulate the permissible speech that survives constitutional scrutiny. This was significantly easier in colonial India. In 1799, Governor-General Richard Wellesley, the brother of the famous Duke of Wellington who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo, instituted a pre-censorship system to create what Rajeev Dhavan calls a “press by permission” marked by licensed publications, prior restraint, subsequent censorship, and harsh penalties. A new colonial regime for strict control over the publication of free speech was enacted in the form of the Press and Registration of Books Act, 1867, the preamble of which recognises that “the literature of a country is…an index of…the condition of [its] people”. The 1867 Act was diluted after independence but still remains alive in the form of the Registrar of Newspapers.

After surviving Indira Gandhi’s demand for a committed press and the depredations of her regime during the Emergency, India’s press underwent the examination of the Second Press Commission. This was appointed in 1978 under the chairmanship of Justice P. K. Goswami, a year after the Janata government released the famous White Paper on Misuse of Mass Media. When Gandhi returned to power, Justice Goswami resigned and the Commission was reconstituted under Justice K. K. Mathew. In 1982, the Commission’s report endorsed the earlier First Press Commission’s call for conformist speech, but went further by proposing the appointment of a press regulator invested with inspection powers; criminalising attacks on the government; re-interpreting defamation law to encompass democratic criticism of public servants; retaining stringent official secrecy law; and more. It was quickly acted upon by Rajiv Gandhi through his infamous Defamation Bill.

The contours of future Internet regulation

The juggernaut of Indian free speech policy has received temporary setbacks, mostly inflicted by the Supreme Court. Past experience shows us that governments with strong majorities – whether Jawaharlal Nehru’s following independence or Indira Gandhi’s in the 1970s – act on their administrative impulses to impede free speech by government policy. The Internet is a recent and uncontrollable medium of speech that attracts disproportionately heavy regulatory attention. Section 66A of the IT Act may be dead but several other provisions remain to harass and punish online free speech. Far from relaxing its grip on divergent opinions, the government appears poised for more incisive invasions of personal freedoms.

I do not believe the contours of future speech regulation on the Internet need to be guessed at, they can be derived from the last two centuries of India’s free speech policy. When section 66A is replaced – and it will be, whether overtly by fresh statutory provisions or stealthily by policy and non-justiciable committees and commissions – it will be through a regime that obeys the mandate of the First Press Commission to discourage dissenting and divergent speech while adopting the regulatory structures of the Second Press Commission to permit a limited inspector raj and forbid attacks on personalities. The interests of the community, howsoever improperly articulated, will seek precedence over individual freedoms and the accompanying threat of violence will give new meaning to Bhimrao Ambedkar’s warning of the “grammar of anarchy”.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/policy-in-india-community-custom-censorship-and-future-of-internet-regulation

Free Speech Online in India under Attack?

praskrishna — 2012-03-02T03:03:24Z

When the Union Minister for Communications and Information Technology, Mr. Kapil Sibal suggested pre-censorship for a range of popular online platforms and social networking sites, the suggestion was met by a barrage of criticism, which soon forced him to back down. Yet Sibal’s suggestion is not the only threat to free speech on the Internet in India today. Legislation such as the Intermediary Due Diligence Rules and Cyber Café Rules (also jointly known as the IT Rules) issued in April 2011 is equally dangerous for free speech online.

Achal Prabhala, Anja Kovacs and Lawrence Liang will join Sunil Abraham to discuss in more detail some of the direct threats to freedom of expression online in India today including the larger legal and social context of freedom of expression and censorship, control and resistance in which they have to be understood and the steps that can be taken to ensure that substantive protections for freedom of expression online will be put into place.

The Speakers

Achal Prabhala

Achal is based in Bangalore, Karnataka. He is a researcher, activist and writer in the areas of access to knowledge and access to medicine besides being a member of the Advisory board of the Wikimedia Foundation.

Anja Kovacs

Anja works with the Internet Democracy Project, which engages in research and advocacy on the promises and challenges that the Internet poses for democracy and social justice in the developing world.

Lawrence Liang

Lawrence is a researcher and lawyer based in Bangalore, who is known for his legal campaigns on issues of public concern. He is a co-founder of the Alternative Law Forum and works on the intersection of law, technology and culture. He has worked closely with filmmakers and artists in a number of anti-censorship campaigns.

The Moderator

Sunil Abraham

Sunil is the Executive Director of the Centre for Internet and Society, a Bangalore-based non-profit organization. He is also a social entrepreneur and Free Software advocate. He founded Mahiti in 1998 which aims to reduce the cost and complexity of Information and Communication Technology for the Voluntary Sector by using Free Software.

This event is jointly organised by the Internet Democracy Project and the Centre for Internet and Society. Join us at the Centre for Internet and Society in Bangalore, on Wednesday 21 December, at 5.30 pm.

VIDEOS

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/free-speech-online-in-india-under-attack

Free Speech and the Law on Sedition

Siddharth Narrain — 2016-02-17T09:13:05Z

Siddharth Narrain explains how the law in India has addressed sedition.

Sedition is an offence that criminalizes speech that is construed to be disloyal to or threatening to the state. The main legal provision in India is section 124A of the Indian Penal Code that criminalizes speech that “brings or attempts to bring into hatred or contempt, or attempts or attempts to excite disaffection” towards the government. The law makes a distinction between “disapprobation” (lawful criticism of the government) and “disaffection” (expressing disloyalty or enmity which is proscribed).

The British introduced this law in 1898, as a part of their efforts to curb criticism of colonial rule, and to stamp out any dissent. Many famous nationalists including Bal Gangadhar Tilak and Mahatma Gandhi have been tried and imprisoned for sedition. After a spirited debate, the Indian Constitutional Assembly decided not to include ‘sedition’ as a specific exception to Article 19(1)(a). However section 124A IPC remained on the statute book. After the First Amendment to the Constitution and the introduction of the words “in the interests of public order” to the exceptions to Article 19(1)(a), it became extremely difficult to challenge the constitutionality of section 124A.

In 1962, the Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of the law in the Kedarnath Singh case, but narrowed the scope of the law to acts involving intention or tendency to create disorder, or disturbance of law and order, or incitement to violence. Thus the Supreme Court provided an additional safeguard to the law: not only was constructive criticism or disapprobation allowed, but if the speech concerned did not have an intention or tendency to cause violence or a disturbance of law and order, it was permissible.

However, even though the law allows for peaceful dissent and constructive criticism, over the years various governments have used section 124A to curb dissent. The trial and conviction of the medical doctor and human rights activist Binayak Sen, led to a renewed call for the scrapping of this law. In the Aseem Trivedi case, where a cartoonist was arrested for his work around the theme of corruption, the Bombay High Court has laid down guidelines to be followed by the government in arrests under section 124A. The court reaffirmed the law laid down in Kedarnath Singh, and held that for a prosecution under section 124A, a legal opinion in writing must be obtained from the law officer of the district(it did not specify who this was) followed by a legal opinion in writing within two weeks from the state public prosecutor. This adds to the existing procedural safeguard under section 196 of the Code of Criminal Procedure (CrPC) that says that courts cannot take cognizance of offences punishable under section 124A IPC unless the Central or State government has given sanction or permission to proceed.

The serious nature of section 124A is seen in the light of the punishment associated with it. Section 124A is a cognizable (arrests can be made without a warrant), non-bailable and non-compoundable offence. Punishment for the offence can extend up to life imprisonment. Because of the seriousness of the offence, courts are often reluctant to grant bail. Sedition law is seen as an anachronism in many countries including the United Kingdom, and it has been repealed in most Western democracies.

IMPORTANT CASE LAW

Kedarnath Singh v. State of Bihar, AIR 1962 SC 955 Supreme Court, 5 Judges,

Medium: Offline

Brief Facts: Kedarnath Singh, a member of the Forward Communist Party, was prosecuted for sedition related to a speech that he made criticising the government for its capitalist policies. Singh challenged the constitutionality of the sedition law. The Supreme Court bunched Singh’s case with other similar incidents where persons were prosecuted under the sedition law.

Held: The law is constitutional and covered written or spoken words that had the implicit idea of subverting the government by violent means. However, this section would not cover words that were used as disapprobation of measures of the government that were meant to improve or alter the policies of the government through lawful means. Citizens can criticize the government as long as they are not inciting people to violence against the government with an intention to create public disorder. The court drew upon the Federal Court’s decision in Niharendru Dutt Majumdar where the court held that offence of sedition is the incitement to violence or the tendency or the effect of bringing a government established by law into hatred or contempt or creating disaffection in the sense of disloyalty to the state. While the Supreme Court upheld the validity of section 124A, it limited its application to acts involving intention or tendency to create disorder, or a disturbance of law and order, or incitement to violence.

Balwant Singh and Anr v. State of Punjab: AIR 1985 SC 1785

Brief Facts: The accused had raised the slogan “Khalistan Zindabad” outside a cinema hall just after the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi.

Held: The slogans raised by the accused had no impact on the public. Two individuals casually raising slogans could not be said to be exciting disaffection towards the government. Section 124A would not apply to the facts and circumstances of this case.

Sanskar Marathe v. State of Maharashtra & Ors, Criminal Public Interest Litigation No. 3 of 2015, Bombay High Court, 2 judges

Medium: Online and Offline

Brief Facts: The case arose out of the arrest of Aseem Trivedi, a political cartoonist who was involved with the India Against Corruption movement. Trivedi was arrested in 2012 in Mumbai for sedition and insulting the National Emblems Act. The court considered the question of how it could intervene to prevent the misuse of section 124A. Held: The cartoons were in the nature of political satire, and there was no allegation of incitement to violence, or tendency or intention to create public disorder. The Court issued guidelines to all police personnel in the form of preconditions for prosecutions under section 124A: Words, signs, or representations must bring the government into hatred or contempt, or must cause, or attempt to cause disaffection, enmity or disloyalty to the government. The words, signs or representation must also be an incitement to violence or must be intended or tend to create public disorder or a reasonable apprehension of public disorder. Words, signs or representations, just by virtue of being against politicians or public officials cannot be said to be against the government. They must show the public official as representative of the government. Disapproval or criticism of the government to bring about a change in government through lawful means does not amount to sedition. Obscenity or vulgarity by itself is not a factor to be taken into account while deciding if a word, sign or representation violates section 124A. In order to prosecute under section 124A, the government has to obtain a legal opinion in writing from the law officer of the district (the judgment does not specify who this is) and in the next two weeks, a legal opinion in writing from the public prosecutor of the state.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-the-law-on-sedition

Free Speech and Surveillance

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-07-07T04:59:59Z

Gautam Bhatia examines the constitutionality of surveillance by the Indian state.

The Indian surveillance regime has been the subject of discussion for quite some time now. Its nature and scope is controversial. The Central Monitoring System, through which the government can obtain direct access to call records, appears to have the potential to be used for bulk surveillance, although official claims emphasise that it will only be implemented in a targeted manner. The Netra system, on the other hand, is certainly about dragnet collection, since it detects the communication, via electronic media, of certain “keywords” (such as “attack”, “bomb”, “blast” and “kill”), no matter what context they are used in, and no matter who is using them.

Surveillance is quintessentially thought to raise concerns about privacy. Over a series of decisions, the Indian Supreme Court has read in the right to privacy into Article 21’s guarantee of the right to life and personal liberty. Under the Supreme Court’s (somewhat cloudy) precedents, privacy may only be infringed if there is a compelling State interest, and if the restrictive law is narrowly tailored – that is, it does not infringe upon rights to an extent greater than it needs to, in order to fulfill its goal. It is questionable whether bulk surveillance meets these standards.

Surveillance, however, does not only involve privacy rights. It also implicated Article 19 – in particular, the Article 19(1)(a) guarantee of the freedom of expression, and the 19(1)(c) guarantee of the freedom of association.

Previously on this blog, we have discussed the “chilling effect” in relation to free speech. The chilling effect evolved in the context of defamation cases, where a combination of exacting standards of proof, and prohibitive damages, contributed to create a culture of self-censorship, where people would refrain from voicing even legitimate criticism for fear of ruinous defamation lawsuits. The chilling effect, however, is not restricted merely to defamation, but arises in free speech cases more generally, where vague and over-broad statutes often leave the border of the permitted and the prohibited unclear.

Indeed, a few years before it decided New York Times v. Sullivan, which brought in the chilling effect doctrine into defamation and free speech law, the American Supreme Court applies a very similar principle in a surveillance case. In NAACP v. Alabama, the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP), which was heavily engaged in the civil rights movement in the American deep South, was ordered by the State of Alabama to disclose its membership list. NAACP challenged this, and the Court held in its favour. It specifically connected freedom of speech, freedom of association, and the impact of surveillance upon both:

“Effective advocacy of both public and private points of view, particularly controversial ones, is undeniably enhanced by group association, as this Court has more than once recognized by remarking upon the close nexus between the freedoms of speech and assembly. It is beyond debate that freedom to engage in association for the advancement of beliefs and ideas is an inseparable aspect of the “liberty” assured by the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, which embraces freedom of speech. Of course, it is immaterial whether the beliefs sought to be advanced by association pertain to political, economic, religious or cultural matters, and state action which may have the effect of curtailing the freedom to associate is subject to the closest scrutiny… it is hardly a novel perception that compelled disclosure of affiliation with groups engaged in advocacy may constitute [an] effective a restraint on freedom of association… this Court has recognized the vital relationship between freedom to associate and privacy in one’s associations. Inviolability of privacy in group association may in many circumstances be indispensable to preservation of freedom of association, particularly where a group espouses dissident beliefs.”

In other words, if persons are not assured of privacy in their association with each other, they will tend to self-censor both who they associate with, and what they say to each other, especially when unpopular groups, who have been historically subject to governmental or social persecution, are involved. Indeed, this was precisely the argument that the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) made in its constitutional challenge to PRISM, the American bulk surveillance program. In addition to advancing a Fourth Amendment argument from privacy, the ACLU also made a First Amendment freedom of speech and association claim, arguing that the knowledge of bulk surveillance had made – or at least, was likely to have made – politically unpopular groups wary of contacting it for professional purposes (the difficulty, of course, is that any chilling effect argument effectively requires proving a negative).

If this argument holds, then it is clear that Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(c) are prima facie infringed in cases of bulk – or even other forms of – surveillance. Two conclusions follow: first, that any surveillance regime needs statutory backing. Under Article 19(2), reasonable restrictions upon fundamental rights can only be imposed by law, and not be executive fiat (the same argument applies to Article 21 as well).

Assuming that a statutory framework is brought into force, the crucial issue then becomes whether the restriction is a reasonable one, in service of one of the stated 19(2) interests. The relevant part of Article 19(2) permits reasonable restrictions upon the freedom of speech and expression “in the interests of… the security of the State [and] public order.” The Constitution does not, however, provide a test for determining when a restriction can be legitimately justified as being “in the interests of” the security of the State, and of public order. There is not much relevant precedent with respect to the first sub-clause, but there happens to be an extensive – although conflicted – jurisprudence dealing with the public order exception.

One line of cases – characterised by Ramji Lal Modi v. State of UP and Virendra v. State of Punjab – has held that the phrase “for the interests of” is of very wide ambit, and that the government has virtually limitless scope to make laws ostensibly for securing public order (this extends to prior restraint as well, something that Blackstone, writing in the 18^th century, found to be illegal!). The other line of cases, such as Superintendent v. Ram Manohar Lohia and S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, have required the government to satisfy a stringent burden of proof. In Lohia, for instance, Ram Manohar Lohia’s conviction for encouraging people to break a tax law was reversed, the Court holding that the relationship between restricting free speech and a public order justification must be “proximate”. In Rangarajan, the Court used the euphemistic image of a “spark in a powder keg”, to characterise the degree of proximity required. It is evident that under the broad test of Ramji Lal Modi, a bulk surveillance system is likely to be upheld, whereas under the narrow test of Lohia, it is almost certain not to be.

Thus, if the constitutionality of surveillance comes to Court, three issues will need to be decided: first, whether Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(c) have been violated. Secondly – and if so – whether the “security of the State” exception is subject to the same standards as the “public order” exception (there is no reason why it should not be). And thirdly, which of the two lines of precedent represent the correct understanding of Article 19(2)?

Gautam Bhatia — @gautambhatia88 on Twitter — is a graduate of the National Law School of India University (2011), and has just received an LLM from the Yale Law School. He blogs about the Indian Constitution at http://indconlawphil.wordpress.com. Here at CIS, he blogs on issues of online freedom of speech and expression.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-surveillance

Free Speech and Source Protection for Journalists

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-06-19T20:10:28Z

Gautam Bhatia explores journalistic source protection from the perspective of the right to freedom of speech & expression. In this post, he articulates clearly the centrality of source protection to press freedoms, and surveys the differing legal standards in the US, Europe and India.

In the previous post, we discussed Vincent Blasi’s pathological perspective on free speech. The argument forms part of a broader conception that Blasi calls the “checking value of the First Amendment”. Blasi argues that the most important role of free speech is to “check” government abuses and reveal to the public information that government wants to keep secret from them. Naturally, in this model – which is a specific application of the democracy-centred theory of free speech – the press and the media become the most important organs of a system of free expression.

In addition to the checking value of free speech, there is another consideration that is now acknowledged by Courts in most jurisdictions, including our Supreme Court. When we speak about the “right” to free speech, we do not just mean – as might seem at first glance – the right of speakers to speak unhindered. We also mean the rights of listeners and hearers to receive information. A classic example is the Indian Supreme Court’s opinion in LIC v. Manubhai D. Shah, which used Article 19(1)(a) to vest a right-of-reply in a person who had been criticised in a newspaper editorial, on the ground of providing a balanced account to readers. Furthermore, instruments like the ICCPR and the ECHR make this clear in the text of the free speech right as well. For instance, Article 19 of the ICCPR states that “everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds.”

In addition to the individual right to receive information and ideas, free speech need not be understood exclusively in the language of a right at all. Free speech also serves as a public good – that is to say, a society with a thriving system of free expression is, all things considered, better off than a society without it. The unique value that free speech serves, as a public good, is in creating an atmosphere of accountability and openness that goes to the heart of the constitutive ideals of modern liberal democracies. As Justice Hugo Black noted, a good system of free speech “rests on the assumption that the widest possible dissemination of information from diverse and antagonistic sources is essential to the welfare of the public.” Unsurprisingly, he went on to add immediately after, that “a free press is a condition of a free society.”

If free speech is about the right to receive information, and about the public good of a society in which information circulates freely and widely, then the vehicles of information occupy a central position in any theory or doctrine about the scope of the constitutional right. In our societies, the press is perhaps the most important of those vehicles.

Establishing the crucial role of the free press in free speech theory is important to understand a crucial issue that has largely gone unaddressed in Indian constitutional and statutory law: that of source-protection laws for journalists. A source-protection law exempts journalists from having to compulsorily reveal their sources when ordered to do so by government or by courts. Such exemptions form part of ordinary Indian statutory law: under the Indian Evidence Act, for example, communications between spouses are “privileged” – that is, inadmissible as evidence in Court.

The question came up before the US Supreme Court in Branzburg v. Hayes. In a 5-4 split, the majority ruled against an unqualified reporters’ privilege, that could be invoked in all circumstances. However, all the justices understood the importance of the issue. Justice White, writing for the majority, held that government must “convincingly show a substantial relation between the information sought and a subject of overriding and compelling state interest.” Justice Powell’s concurring opinion emphasised that the balance must be struck on a case-to-case basis. Since Branzburg, there has been no federal legislation dealing with source protection. A number of states have, however, passed “shield laws”, albeit with broad national security exceptions.

Perhaps the reason for the American Supreme Court’s reticence lies in its reluctance – notwithstanding Justice Black’s ringing oratory – to place journalists on any kind of special pedestal above the rest of the public. The European Court of Human Rights, however, has felt no such compunctions. In Goodwin v. UK, the ECHR made it clear that the press serves a crucial function as a “public watchdog” (a consistent theme in the ECHR’s jurisprudence). Compelled disclosure of sources would definitely have a chilling effect on the functioning of the press, since sources would be hesitant to speak – and journalists would be reluctant to jeopardise their sources – if it was easy to get a court order requiring disclosure. Consequently, the ECHR – which is normally hesitant to intervene in domestic matters, and accords a wide margin of appreciation to states, found the UK to be in violation of the Convention. Journalists could only be compelled to reveal their sources if there was an “overriding requirement in the public interest.”

Where both the United States and Europe have recognised the importance of source-protection, and the simple fact that some degree of source protection is essential if the press is to perform its checking – or watchdog – function effectively, Indian jurisprudence on the issue is negligible. The Law Commission has twice proposed some manner of a shield law, but no concrete action has been taken upon its recommendations.

In the absence of any law, Article 19(1)(a) could play a direct role in the matter. As argued at the beginning of this post, the Supreme Court has accepted the democracy-based justification for free speech, as well as the individual right to receive information. Both these arguments necessarily make the role of the press crucial, and the role of the press is dependant on maintaining the confidentiality of sources. Thus, there ought to be an Article 19(1)(a) right that journalists can invoke against compelled disclosure. If this is so, then any disclosure can only be required through law; and the law, in turn, must be a reasonable restriction in the interests of public order, which – in turn, has normally been given a narrow interpretation by the Supreme Court in cases such as Ram Manohar Lohia.

It is unclear, however, whether the Courts will be sympathetic. As this article points out, while the Supreme Court has yet to rule on this issue, various High Courts have ordered disclosure, seemingly without much concern for the free speech implications. One thing is evident though: either a strong shield law, or a definitive Supreme Court ruling, is required to fill the current vacuum that exists.

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For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-source-protection-for-journalists

Free Speech and Public Order

Gautam Bhatia — 2016-02-18T06:23:38Z

In this post, Gautam Bhatia has explained the law on public order as a reasonable restriction to freedom of expression under Article 19(2) of the Constitution of India.

Article 19(2) of the Constitution authorises the government to impose, by law, reasonable restrictions upon the freedom of speech and expression “in the interests of… public order.” To understand the Supreme Court’s public order jurisprudence, it is important to break down the sub-clause into its component parts, and focus upon their separate meanings. Specifically, three terms are important: “reasonable restrictions”, “in the interests of”, and “public order”.

The Supreme Court’s public order jurisprudence can be broadly divided into three phases. Phase One (1949 – 1950), which we may call the pre-First Amendment Phase, is characterised by a highly speech-protective approach and a rigorous scrutiny of speech-restricting laws. Phase Two (1950 – 1960), which we may call the post-First Amendment Expansionist Phase, is characterised by a judicial hands-off approach towards legislative and executive action aimed at restricting speech. Phase Three (1960 - present day), which we may call the post-First Amendment Protectionist phase, is characterised by a cautious, incremental move back towards a speech-protective, rigorous-scrutiny approach. This classification is broad-brush and generalist, but serves as a useful explanatory device.

Before the First Amendment, the relevant part of Article 19(2) allowed the government to restrict speech that “undermines the security of, or tends to overthrow, the State.” The scope of the restriction was examined by the Supreme Court in Romesh Thappar vs State of Madras and Brij Bhushan vs State of Delhi, both decided in 1950. Both cases involved the ban of newspapers or periodicals, under state laws that authorised the government to prohibit the entry or circulation of written material, ‘in the interests of public order’. A majority of the Supreme Court struck down the laws. In doing so, they invoked the concept of “over-breadth”: according to the Court, “public order” was synonymous with public tranquility and peace, while undermining the security of, or tending to overthrow the State, referred to acts which could shake the very foundations of the State. Consequently, while acts that undermined or tended to overthrow the State would also lead to public disorder, not all acts against public order would rise to the level of undermining the security of the State. This meant that the legislation proscribed acts that, under Article 19(2), the government was entitled to prohibit, as well as those that it wasn’t. This made the laws “over-broad”, and unconstitutional. In a dissenting opinion, Fazl Ali J. argued that “public order”, “public tranquility”, “the security of the State” and “sedition” were all interchangeable terms, that meant the same thing.

In Romesh Thappar and Brij Bhushan, the Supreme Court also held that the impugned legislations imposed a regime of “prior restraint” – i.e., by allowing the government to prohibit the circulation of newspapers in anticipation of public disorder, they choked off speech before it even had the opportunity to be made. Following a long-established tradition in common law as well as American constitutional jurisprudence, the Court held that a legislation imposing prior restraint bore a heavy burden to demonstrate its constitutionality.

The decisions in Romesh Thappar and Brij Bhushan led to the passage of the First Amendment, which substituted the phrase “undermines the security of, or tends to overthrow, the State” with “public order”, added an additional restriction in the interests of preventing an incitement to an offence, and – importantly – added a the word “reasonable” before “restrictions”.

The newly-minted Article 19(2) came to be interpreted by the Supreme Court in Ramji Lal Modi vs State of UP (1957). At issue was a challenge to S. 295A of the Indian Penal Code, which criminalised insulting religious beliefs with an intent to outrage religious feelings of any class. The challenge made an over-breadth argument: it was contended that while some instances of outraging religious beliefs would lead to public disorder, not all would, and consequently, the Section was unconstitutional. The Court rejected this argument and upheld the Section. It focused on the phrase “in the interests of”, and held that being substantially broader than a term such as “for the maintenance of”, it allowed the government wide leeway in restricting speech. In other words, as long as the State could show that there was some connection between the law, and public order, it would be constitutional. The Court went on to hold that the calculated tendency of any speech or expression aimed at outraging religious feelings was, indeed, to cause public disorder, and consequently, the Section was constitutional. This reasoning was echoed in Virendra vs State of Punjab (1957), where provisions of the colonial era Press Act, which authorised the government to impose prior restraint upon newspapers, were challenged. The Supreme Court upheld the provisions that introduced certain procedural safeguards, like a time limit, and struck down the provisions that didn’t. Notably, however, the Court upheld the imposition of prior restraint itself, on the ground that the phrase “in the interests of” bore a very wide ambit, and held that it would defer to the government’s determination of when public order was jeopardised by speech or expression.

In Ramji Lal Modi and Virendra, the Court had rejected the argument that the State can only impose restrictions on the freedom of speech and expression if it demonstrates a proximate link between speech and public order. The Supreme Court had focused closely on the breadth of the phrase “in the interests of”, but had not subjected the reasonable requirement to any analysis. In earlier cases such as State of Madras vs V.G. Row, the Court had stressed that in order to be “reasonable”, a restriction would have to take into account the nature and scope of the right, the extent of infringement, and proportionality. This analysis failed to figure in Ramji Lal Modi and Virendra. However, in Superintendent, Central Prison vs Ram Manohar Lohia, the Supreme Court changed its position, and held that there must be a “proximate” relationship between speech and public disorder, and that it must not be remote, fanciful or far fetched. Thus, for the first time, the breath of the phrase “in the interests of” was qualified, presumably from the perspective of reasonableness. In Lohia, the Court also stressed again that “public order” was of narrower ambit than mere “law and order”, and would require the State to discharge a high burden of proof, along with evidence.

Lohia marks the start of the third phase in the Court’s jurisprudence, where the link of proximity between speech and public disorder has gradually been refined. In Babulal Parate vs State of Maharashtra (1961) and Madhu Limaye vs Sub-Divisional Magistrate (1970), the Court upheld prior restraints under S. 144 of the CrPC, while clarifying that the Section could only be used in cases of an Emergency. Section 144 of the CrPC empowers executive magistrates (i.e., high-ranking police officers) to pass very wide-ranging preventive orders, and is primarily used to prohibit assemblies at certain times in certain areas, when it is considered that the situation is volatile, and could lead to violence. In Babulal Parate and Madhu Limaye, the Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of Section 144, but also clarified that its use was restricted to situations when there was a proximate link between the prohibition, and the likelihood of public dirsorder.

In recent years, the Court has further refined its proximity test. In S. Rangarajan vs P. Jagjivan Ram (1989), the Supreme Court required proximity to be akin to a “spark in a powder keg”. Most recently, in Arup Bhuyan vs State of Assam (2011), the Court read down a provision in the TADA criminalizing membership of a banned association to only apply to cases where an individual was responsible for incitement to imminent violence (a standard borrowed from the American case of Brandenburg).[GB1]

Lastly, in 2015, we have seen the first instance of the application of Section 144 of the CrPC to online speech. The wide wording of the section was used in Gujarat to pre-emptively block mobile internet services, in the wake of Hardik Patel’s Patidar agitation for reservations. Despite the fact that website blocking is specifically provided for by Section 69A of the IT Act, and its accompanying rules, the Gujarat High Court upheld the state action.

The following conclusions emerge:

(1) “Public Order” under Article 19(2) is a term of art, and refers to a situation of public tranquility/public peace, that goes beyond simply law-breaking

(2) Prior restraint in the interests of public order is justified under Article 19(2), subject to a test of proximity; by virtue of the Gujarat High Court judgment in 2015, prior restraint extends to the online sphere as well

(3) The proximity test requires the relationship between speech and public order to be imminent, or like a spark in a powder keg

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-public-order-1

Free Speech and Contempt of Courts – II: Article 19(1)(a) and Indian Law

gautam — 2014-06-16T05:48:55Z

Gautam Bhatia continues his examination of free speech implications of the law of contempt: the power that equips courts to "protect the dignity of the Bench".

Towards the end of the last post, we saw how the Law Commission traced the genealogy of the “scandalising the Court” offence, inasmuch as it sought to protect the “standing of the judiciary”, to that of seditious libel. The basic idea is the same: if people are allowed to criticise state institutions in derogatory terms, then they can influence their fellow-citizens who, in turn, will lose respect for those institutions. Consequently, the authority of those institutions will be diminished, and they will be unable to effectively perform their functions. Hence, we prevent that eventuality by prohibiting certain forms of speech when it concerns the functioning of the government (seditious libel) or the Courts (scandalising the Court). This, of course, often ties the judges into knots, in determining the exact boundary between strident – but legitimate – criticism, and sedition/scandalising the Court.

Seditious libel, of course, went out in the United States with the repeal of the Sedition Act in 1800, and was abolished in the England in 2009. Notoriously, it still remains on the statute books in India, in the form of S. 124A of the Indian Penal Code. An examination of the Supreme Court’s sedition jurisprudence would, therefore, be apposite. Section 124A makes it an offence to bring or attempt to bring into hatred or contempt, or excite or attempt to excite, disaffection, towards the government. The locus classicus is Kedar Nath Singh v. Union of India. I have analysed the case in detail elsewhere, but briefly, Kedar Nath Singh limited the scope of 124A to incitement to violence, or fostering public disorder, within the clear terms of Article 19(2). In other words, prosecution for sedition, if it was to succeed, would have to satisfy the Court’s public order jurisprudence under Article 19(2). The public order test itself – as we discussed previously on this blog, in a post about Section 66A – was set out in highly circumscribed terms in Ram Manohar Lohia’s Case, which essentially required a direct and imminent degree of proximity between the speech or expression, and the breach of public order (in that case, the Court refused to sustain the conviction of a speaker who expressly encouraged an audience to break the law). Subsequently, in S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, the Court noted that the relation ought to be like that of a “spark in a powder keg” – something akin to inciting an enraged mob to immediate violence. Something that the Court has clearly rejected is the argument that it is permissible to criminalise speech and expression simply because its content might lower the authority of the government in the eyes of the public, which, in turn, could foster a disrespect for law and the State, and lead to breaches of public order.

Unfortunately, however, when it comes to contempt and scandalising, the Court has adopted exactly the chain of reasoning that it has rejected in the public order cases. As early as 1953, in Aswini Kumar Ghose v. Arabinda Bose, the Court observed that “it is obvious that if an impression is created in the minds of the public that the Judges in the highest Court in the land act on extraneous considerations in deciding cases, the confidence of the whole community in the administration of justice is bound to be undermined and no greater mischief than that can possibly be imagined.”

Subsequently, in D.C. Saxena v. CJI, the Court held that “Any criticism about judicial system or the judges which hampers the administration of justice or which erodes the faith in the objective approach of the judges and brings administration of justice to ridicule must be prevented. The contempt of court proceedings arise out of that attempt. Judgments can be criticised. Motives to the judges need not be attributed. It brings the administration of justice into disrepute. Faith in the administration of justice is one of the pillars on which democratic institution functions and sustains.” Notice the chain of causation the Court is working with here: it holds faith in the administration of justice as a necessary pre-requisite to the administration of justice, and prohibits criticism that would cause other people to lose their faith in the judiciary. This is exactly akin to a situation in which I make an argument advocating Marxist theory, and I am punished because some people, on reading my article, might start to hold the government in contempt, and attempt to overthrow it by violent means. Not only is it absurd, it is also entirely disrespectful of individual autonomy: it is based on the assumption that the person legally and morally responsibly for a criminal act is not the actor, but the person who convinced the actor through words and arguments, to break the law – as though individuals are incapable of weighing up competing arguments and coming to decisions of their own accord. Later on, in the same case, the Court holds that scandalising includes “all acts which bring the court into disrepute or disrespect or which offend its dignity or its majesty or challenge its authority.” As we have seen before, however, disrepute or disrespect of an institution cannot in itself be a ground for punishment, unless there is something more. That something more is actual disruption of justice, which is presumably caused by people who have lost their confidence in the judiciary, but in eliding disrepute/disrespect with obstruction of justice, the Court entirely fails to consider the individual agency involved in crossing that bridge, the agency that is not that of the original speaker. This is why, again, in its sedition cases, the Court has gone out of its way to actually require a proximate relation between “disaffection” and public order breaches, in order to save the section from unconstitutionality. Its contempt jurisprudence, on the other hand, shows no such regard. It is perhaps telling that the Court, one paragraph on, adopts the “blaze of glory” formulation that was used in an 18^th century, pre-democratic English case.

Indeed, the Court draws an express analogy with sedition, holding that “malicious or slanderous publication inculcates in the mind of the people a general disaffection and dissatisfaction on the judicial determination and indisposes in their mind to obey them.” Even worse, it then takes away even the basic protection of mens rea, holding that all that matters is the effect of the impugned words, regardless of the intention/recklessness with which they were uttered. The absence of mens rea, along with the absence of any meaningful proximity requirement, makes for a very dangerous cocktail – an offence that can cover virtually any activity that the Court believes has a “tendency” to certain outcomes: “Therefore, a tendency to scandalise the court or tendency to lower the authority of the court or tendency to interfere with or tendency to obstruct the administration of justice in any manner or tendency to challenge the authority or majesty of justice, would be a criminal contempt. The offending act apart, any tendency if it may lead to or tends to lower the authority of the court is a criminal contempt. Any conduct of the contemnor which has the tendency or produces a tendency to bring the judge or court into contempt or tends to lower the authority of the court would also be contempt of the court.”

The assumption implicit in these judgments – that the people need to be protected from certain forms of speech, because they are incompetent at making up their own minds, in a reasonable manner, about it – was made express in Arundhati Roy’s Case, in 2002. After making observations about how confidence in the Courts could not be allowed to be “tarnished” at any cost, the Court noted that “the respondent has tried to cast an injury to the public by creating an impression in the mind of the people of this backward country regarding the integrity, ability and fairness of the institution of judiciary”, observed that the purpose of the offence was to protect the (presumably backward) public by maintaining its confidence in the judiciary, which had been enacted keeping in mind “the ground realities and prevalent socio-economic system in India, the vast majority of whose people are poor, ignorant, uneducated, easily liable to be misled. But who acknowledly (sic) have the tremendous faith in the dispensers of Justice.” So easy, indeed, to mislead, that there was no need for any evidence to demonstrate it: “the well-known proposition of law is that it punishes the archer as soon as the arrow is shot no matter if it misses to hit the target. The respondent is proved to have shot the arrow, intended to damage the institution of the judiciary and thereby weaken the faith of the public in general and if such an attempt is not prevented, disastrous consequences are likely to follow resulting in the destruction of rule of law, the expected norm of any civilised society.”

The American legal scholar, Vince Blasi, has outlined a “pathological perspective” of free speech. According to him, heightened protection of speech – even to the extent of protecting worthless speech – is important, because when the government passes laws to regulate speech that is hostile towards it, it will, in all likelihood, over-regulate purely out of self-interest, sometimes even unconsciously so. This is why, if the Courts err, they ought to err on the side of speech-protection, because it is quite likely that the government has over-estimated public order and other threats that stem out of hostile speech towards government itself. The pathological perspective is equally – if not more – applicable in the realm of contempt of Court, because here the Court is given charge of regulating speech hostile towards itself. Keenly aware of the perils of speech suppression that lie in such situations, we have seen that the United States and England have abolished the offence, and the Privy Council has interpreted it extremely narrowly.

The Indian Supreme Court, however, has gone in precisely the opposite direction. It has used the Contempt of Court statute to create a strict-liability criminal offence, with boundlessly manipulable categories, which is both overbroad and vague, entirely inconsistent with the Court’s own free speech jurisprudence, and at odds with free speech in a liberal democracy.

Gautam Bhatia — @gautambhatia88 on Twitter — is a graduate of the National Law School of India University (2011), and presently an LLM student at the Yale Law School. He blogs about the Indian Constitution at http://indconlawphil.wordpress.com. Here at CIS, he blogs on issues of online freedom of speech and expression.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-contempt-of-courts-2013-ii-article-19-1-a-and-indian-law

Free Speech and Contempt of Court – I: Overview

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-06-08T15:29:33Z

Gautam Bhatia explores an under-theorised aspect of India's free speech jurisprudence: the contempt power that equips courts to "protect the dignity of the Bench". In this introductory post, he examines jurisprudence from the US and England to inform our analysis of Indian law.

On May 31, the Times of India reported some observations of a two-judge bench of the Supreme Court on its contempt powers. The Court noted that the power to punish for contempt was necessary to “secure public respect and confidence in the judicial process”, and also went on to add – rather absurdly – to lay down the requirements, in terms of timing, tone and tenor, of a truly “contrite” apology. This opinion, however, provides us with a good opportunity to examine one of the most under-theorised aspects of Indian free speech law: the contempt power.

Indeed, the contempt power finds express mention in the Constitution. Article 19(2) permits the government to impose reasonable restrictions upon the freedom of speech and expression “… in relation to contempt of court.” The legislation governing contempt powers is the 1971 Contempt of Courts Act. Contempt as a civil offence involves willful disobedience of a court order. Contempt as a criminal offence, on the other hand, involves either an act or expression (spoken, written or otherwise visible) that does one of three things: scandalises, or tends to scandalize, or lowers, or tends to lower, the authority of any court; prejudices or interferes (or tends to interfere) with judicial proceedings; or otherwise obstructs, or tends to obstruct, the administration of justice. As we can see, contempt can – broadly – take two forms: first, obstructing the proceedings of the Court by acts such as disobeying an order, holding up a hearing through absence or physical/verbal disturbance etc. This is straightforward enough. More problematically, however, contempt also covers instances of what we may call “pure speech”: words or other forms of expression about the Court that are punished for no other reason but their content. In particular, “scandalising the Court” seems to be particularly vague and formless in its scope and ambit.

“Scandalising the court” is a common law term. The locus classicus is the 1900 case of R v. Gray, which – in language that the Contempt of Courts Act has largely adopted – defined it as “any act done or writing published calculated to bring a Court or a judge of the Court into contempt, or to lower his authority.” The basic idea is that if abusive invective against the Court is permitted, then people will lose respect for the judiciary, and justice will be compromised.

It is obvious that this argument is flawed in many respects, and we shall analyse the Supreme Court’s problematic understanding of its contempt powers in the next post. First, however, it is instructive to examine the fate of contempt powers in the United States – which, like India, constitutionally guarantees the freedom of speech – and in England, whose model India has consciously followed.

America’s highly speech-protective Courts have taken a dim view of contempt powers. Three cases stand out. Bridges v. California involved a contempt of court accusation against a labour leader for calling a Court decision “outrageous”, and threatening a strike if it was upheld. Reversing his prior conviction, the Supreme Court noted that “public interest is much more likely to be kindled by a controversial event of the day than by a generalization, however penetrating, of the historian or scientist.” Given the strong public interest, the burden of justifying restrictions upon this speech was particularly high. The Court identified two possible justifications: respect for the judiciary, and the orderly administration of justice. On the first, it observed that “an enforced silence, however limited, solely in the name of preserving the dignity of the bench would probably engender resentment, suspicion, and contempt much more than it would enhance respect.” On the second, it held that since striking itself was entirely legal, it was no argument that the threat of a strike would illegally intimidate a judge and subvert the course of justice. Throughout the case, the Court stressed that unfettered speech on matters of public interest was of paramount value, and could only be curtailed if there was a “clear and present danger” that the substantially evil consequences would result out of allowing it.

Similarly, in Garrison v. Lousiana, an attorney accused certain judges of inefficiency and laziness. Reversing his conviction, the Supreme Court took note of “the paramount public interest in a free flow of information to the people concerning public officials, their servants…. few personal attributes are more germane to fitness for office than dishonesty, malfeasance, or improper motivation, even though these characteristics may also affect the official's private character.” Consequently, it held that only those statements could be punished that the author either knew were false, or were made with reckless disregard for the truth. And lastly, in Landmark Communications v. Virginia, the Court held that “the operations of the courts and the judicial conduct of judges are matters of utmost public concern”, and endorsed Justice Frankfurter’s prior statement, that “speech cannot be punished when the purpose is simply "to protect the court as a mystical entity or the judges as individuals or as anointed priests set apart from the community and spared the criticism to which in a democracy other public servants are exposed.”

What stands out here is the American Courts’ rejection of the ideas that preserving the authority of judges by suppressing certain forms of speech is an end in itself, and that the Courts must be insulated to some greater degree than other officials of government. Consequently, it must be shown that the impugned expression presents a clear and present danger to the administration of justice, before it can be punished.

Now to England. The last successful prosecution of the offence was in 1931. In 2012, the Law Commission published a paper on contempt powers, in which it expressly recommended abolishing the offence of “scandalising the Court”; its recommendations were accepted, and the offence was abolished in 2013. Admittedly, the offence remains on the statute books in many commonwealth nations, although two months ago – in April 2014 – the Privy Council gave it a highly circumscribed interpretation while adjudicating a case on appeal from Mauritius: there must, it held, be a “real risk of undermining public confidence in the administration of justice” (something akin to clear and present danger?), and the Prosecution must demonstrate that the accused either intended to do so, or acted in reckless disregard of whether or not he was doing so.

What is particularly interesting is the Law Commission’s reasoning in its recommendations. Tracing the history of the offence back to 18^th century England, it noted that the original justification was to maintain a “haze of glory” around the Courts, and it was crucial that the Courts not only be universally impartial, but also perceived to be so. Consequently, the Law Commission observed that “this language suggests that “to be impartial” and “to be universally thought so” are two independent requirements, implying that the purpose of the offence is not confined to preventing the public from getting the wrong idea about the judges, and that where there are shortcomings, it is equally important to prevent the public from getting the right idea.” Obviously, this was highly problematic.

The Law Commission also noted the adverse impact of the law on free speech: the well-known chilling effect, whereby people would self-censor even justified criticism. This was exacerbated by the vagueness of the offence, which left unclear the intent requirement, and the status of defences based on truth and public interest. The Law Commission was concerned, as well, about the inherently self-serving nature of the offence, which give judges the power to sit in judgment over speech and expression that was directly critical of them. Lastly, the Law Commission noted that the basic point of contempt powers was similar to that of seditious libel: to ensure the good reputation of the State (or, in the case of scandalising, the judges) by controlling what could be said about them. With the abolition of seditious libel, the raison d’être of scandalising the Court was also – now – weakened.

We see, therefore, that the United States has rejected sweeping contempt powers as unconstitutional. England, which created the offence that India incorporated into its law, stopped prosecuting people for it in 1931, and formally abolished it last year. And even when its hands have been bound by the law that it is bound the enforce, the Privy Council has interpreted the offence in as narrow a manner as possible, in order to remain solicitous of free speech concerns. Unfortunately, as we shall see in the next essay, all these developments have utterly passed our Courts by.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-contempt-of-court-2013-i-overview

Free Speech and Civil Defamation

gautam — 2014-07-08T08:31:18Z

Does defamation become a tool in powerful hands to suppress criticism? Gautam Bhatia examines the strict and unrealistic demands of defamation law, and concludes that defamation suits are a weapon to silence dissent and bad press.

Previously on this blog, we have discussed one of the under-analysed aspects of Article 19(2) – contempt of court. In the last post, we discussed the checking – or “watchdog” – function of the press. There is yet another under-analysed part of 19(2) that we now turn to – one which directly implicates the press, in its role as public watchdog. This is the issue of defamation.

Unlike contempt of court – which was a last-minute insertion by Ambedkar, before the second reading of the draft Constitution in the Assembly – defamation was present in the restrictions clause since the Fundamental Rights Sub-Committee’s first draft, in 1947. Originally, it accompanied libel and slander, before the other two were dropped for the simpler “reasonable restrictions… in the interests of… defamation.” Unlike the other restrictions, which provoked substantial controversy, defamation did not provoke extended scrutiny by the Constituent Assembly.

In hindsight, that was a lapse. In recent years, defamation lawsuits have emerged as a powerful weapon against the press, used primarily by individuals and corporations in positions of power and authority, and invariably as a means of silencing criticism. For example, Hamish MacDonald’s The Polyester Prince, a book about the Ambanis, was unavailable in Indian bookshops, because of threats of defamation lawsuits. In January, Bloomsbury withdrew The Descent of Air India, which was highly critical of ex-Aviation Minister Praful Patel, after the latter filed a defamation lawsuit. Around the same time, Sahara initiated a 200 crore lawsuit against Tamal Bandyopadhayay, a journalist with The Mint, for his forthcoming book, Sahara: The Untold Story. Sahara even managed to get a stay order from a Calcutta High Court judge, who cited one paragraph from the book, and ruled that “Prima facie, the materials do seem to show the plaintiffs in poor light.” The issue has since been settled out of Court. Yet there is no guarantee that Bandyopadhyay would have won on merits, even with the absurd amount claimed as damages, given that a Pune Court awarded damages of Rs. 100 crores to former Justice P.B. Sawant against the Times Group, for a fifteen-second clip by a TV channel that accidentally showed his photograph next to the name of a judge who was an accused in a scam. What utterly takes the cake, though, is Infosys serving legal notices to three journalistic outlets recently, asking for damages worth Rs. 200 crore for “loss of reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles.”

Something is very wrong here. The plaintiffs are invariably politicians or massive corporate houses, and the defendants are invariably journalists or newspapers. The subject is always critical reporting. The damages claimed (and occasionally, awarded) are astronomical – enough to cripple or destroy any business – and the actual harm is speculative. A combination of these factors, combined with a broken judicial system in which trials take an eternity to progress, leading to the prospect of a lawsuit hanging perpetually over one’s head, and financial ruin just around the corner, clearly has the potential to create a highly effective chilling effect upon newspapers, when it come to critical speech on matters of public interest.

One of the reasons that this happens, of course, is that extant defamation law allows it to happen. Under defamation law, as long as a statement is published, is defamatory (that is, tending to lower the reputation of the plaintiff in the minds of reasonable people) and refers to the plaintiff, a prima facie case of defamation is made out. The burden then shifts to the defendant to argue a justification, such as truth, or fair comment, or privileged communication. Notice that defamation, in this form, is a strict liability offence: that is, the publisher cannot save himself even if he has taken due care in researching and writing his story. Even an inadvertent factual error can result in liability. Furthermore, there are many things that straddle a very uncomfortable barrier between “fact” and “opinion” (“opinions” are generally not punishable for defamation): for example, if I call you “corrupt”, have I made a statement of fact, or one of opinion? Much of reporting – especially political reporting – falls within this slipstream.

The legal standard of defamation, therefore, puts almost all the burden upon the publisher, a burden that will often be impossible to discharge – as well as potentially penalising the smallest error. Given the difficulty in fact-checking just about everything, as well as the time pressures under which journalists operate, this is an unrealistic standard. What makes things even worse, however, is that there is no cap on damages, and that the plaintiff need not even demonstrate actual harm in making his claims. Judges have the discretion to award punitive damages, which are meant to serve both as an example and as a deterrent. When Infosys claims 2000 crores, therefore, it need not show that there has been a tangible drop in its sales, or that it has lost an important and lucrative contract – let alone showing that the loss was caused by the defamatory statement. All it needs to do is make abstract claims about loss of goodwill and reputation, which are inherently difficult to verify either way, and it stands a fair chance of winning.

A combination of onerous legal standards and crippling amounts in damages makes the defamation regime a very difficult one for journalists to operate freely in. We have discussed before the crucial role that journalists play in a system of free speech whose underlying foundation is the maintenance of democracy: a free press is essential to maintaining a check upon the actions of government and other powerful players, by subjecting them to scrutiny and critique, and ensuring that the public is aware of important facts that government might be keen to conceal. In chilling journalistic speech, therefore, defamation laws strike at the heart of Article 19(1)(a). When considering what the appropriate standards ought to be, a Court therefore must consider the simple fact that if defamation – as it stands today – is compromising the core of 19(1)(a) itself, then it is certainly not a “reasonable restriction” under 19(2) (some degree of proportionality is an important requirement for 19(2) reasonableness, as the Court has held many times).

This is not, however, a situation unique to India. In Singapore, for instance, “[political] leaders have won hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages in defamation cases against critics and foreign publications, which they have said are necessary to protect their reputations from unfounded attacks” – the defamation lawsuit, indeed, was reportedly a legal strategy used by Lee Kuan Yew against political opponents.

Particularly in the United States, the European Union and South Africa, however, this problem has been recognised, and acted upon. In the next post, we shall examine some of the legal techniques used in those jurisdictions, to counter the chilling effect that strict defamation laws can have on the press.

We discussed the use of civil defamation laws as weapons to stifle a free and critical press. One of the most notorious of such instances also birthed one of the most famous free speech cases in history: New York Times v. Sullivan. This was at the peak of the civil rights movement in the American South, which was accompanied by widespread violence and repression of protesters and civil rights activists. A full-page advertisement was taken out in the New York Times, titled Heed Their Rising Voices, which detailed some particularly reprehensible acts by the police in Montgomery, Alabama. It also contained some factual errors. For example, the advertisement mentioned that Martin Luther King Jr. had been arrested seven times, whereas he had only been arrested four times. It also stated that the Montgomery police had padlocked students into the university dining hall, in order to starve them into submission. That had not actually happened. On this basis, Sullivan, the Montgomery police commissioner, sued for libel. The Alabama courts awarded 500,000 dollars in damages. Because five other people in a situation similar to Sullivan were also suing, the total amount at stake was three million dollars – enough to potentially boycott the New York Times, and certainly enough to stop it from publishing about the civil rights movement.

In his book about the Sullivan case, Make No Law, Anthony Lewis notes that the stakes in the case were frighteningly high. The civil rights movement depended, for its success, upon stirring public opinion in the North. The press was just the vehicle to do it, reporting as it did on excessive police brutality against students and peaceful protesters, practices of racism and apartheid, and so on. Sullivan was a legal strategy to silence the press, and its weapon of choice was defamation law.

In a 9 – 0 decision, the Supreme Court found for the New York Times, and changed the face of free speech law (and, according to Lewis, saved the civil rights movement). Writing for the majority, Justice Brennan made the crucial point that in order to survive, free speech needed “breathing space” – that is, the space to make errors. Under defamation law, as it stood, “the pall of fear and timidity imposed upon those who would give voice to public criticism [is] an atmosphere in which the First Amendment freedoms cannot survive.” And under the burden of proving truth, “would-be critics of official conduct may be deterred from voicing their criticism, even though it is believed to be true and even though it is, in fact, true, because of doubt whether it can be proved in court or fear of the expense of having to do so. They tend to make only statements which "steer far wider of the unlawful zone." For these reasons, Justice Brennan laid down an “actual malice” test for defamation – that is, insofar as the statement in question concerned the conduct of a public official, it was actionable for defamation only if the publisher either knew it was false, or published it with “reckless disregard” for its veracity. After New York Times, this standard has expanded, and the press has never lost a defamation case.

There are some who argue that in its zeal to protect the press against defamation lawsuits by the powerful, the Sullivan court swung the opposite way. In granting the press a near-unqualified immunity to say whatever it wanted, it subordinated the legitimate interests of people to their reputation and their dignity to an intolerable degree, and ushered in a regime of media unaccountability. This is evidently what the South African courts felt. In Khulamo v. Holomisa, Justice O’Regan accepted that the common law of defamation would have to be altered so as to reflect the new South African Constitution’s guarantees of the freedom of speech. Much like Justice Brennan, she noted that “the media are important agents in ensuring that government is open, responsive and accountable to the people as the founding values of our Constitution require”, as well as the chilling effect in requiring journalists to prove the truth of everything they said. Nonetheless, she was not willing to go as far as the American Supreme Court did. Instead, she cited a previous decision by the Supreme Court of Appeals, and incorporated a “resonableness standard” into defamation law. That is, “if a publisher cannot establish the truth, or finds it disproportionately expensive or difficult to do so, the publisher may show that in all the circumstances the publication was reasonable. In determining whether publication was reasonable, a court will have regard to the individual’s interest in protecting his or her reputation in the context of the constitutional commitment to human dignity. It will also have regard to the individual’s interest in privacy. In that regard, there can be no doubt that persons in public office have a diminished right to privacy, though of course their right to dignity persists. It will also have regard to the crucial role played by the press in fostering a transparent and open democracy. The defence of reasonable publication avoids therefore a winner-takes-all result and establishes a proper balance between freedom of expression and the value of human dignity. Moreover, the defence of reasonable publication will encourage editors and journalists to act with due care and respect for the individual interest in human dignity prior to publishing defamatory material, without precluding them from publishing such material when it is reasonable to do so.”

The South African Constitutional Court thus adopts a middle path between the two opposite zero-sum games that are traditional defamation law, and American first amendment law. A similar effort was made in the United Kingdom – the birthplace of the common law of defamation – with the passage of the 2013 Defamation Act. Under English law, the plaintiff must now show that there is likely to be “serious harm” to his reputation, and there is also public interest exception.

While South Africa and the UK try to tackle the problem at the level of standards for defamation, the ECHR has taken another, equally interesting tack: by limiting the quantum of damages. In Tolstoy Milolasky v. United Kingdom, it found a 1.5 million pound damage award “disproportionately large”, and held that there was a violation of the ECHR’s free speech guarantee that could not be justified as necessary in a democratic society.

Thus, constitutional courts the world over have noticed the adverse impact traditional defamation law has on free speech and a free press. They have devised a multiplicity of ways to deal with this, some more speech-protective than others: from America’s absolutist standards, to South Africa’s “reasonableness” and the UK’s “public interest” exceptions, to the ECHR’s limitation of damages. It is about time that the Indian Courts took this issue seriously: there is no dearth of international guidance.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-civil-defamation

FOEX Live: May 28-29, 2014

geetha — 2014-05-29T08:58:47Z

A selection of news from across India with a bearing on online freedom of expression and use of digital technology

Media focus on the new government and its ministries and portfolios has been extensive, and to my knowledge, few newspapers or online sources have reported violations of freedom of speech. However, on his first day in office, the new I&B Minister, Prakash Javadekar, acknowledged the importance of press freedom, avowing that it was the “essence of democracy”. He has assured that the new government will not interfere with press freedom.

Assam:

A FICCI discussion in Guwahati, attended among others by Microsoft and Pricewaterhouse Coopers, focused on the role of information technology in governance.

Goa:

Following the furore over allegedly inflammatory, ‘hate-mongering’ Facebook posts by shipping engineer Devu Chodankar, a group of Goan netizens formed a ‘watchdog forum’ to police “inappropriate and communally inflammatory content” on social media. Diana Pinto feels, however, that some ‘compassion and humanism’ ought to have prompted only a stern warning in Devu Chodankar’s case, and not a FIR.

Karnataka:

Syed Waqar was released by Belgaum police after questioning revealed he was a recipient of the anti-Modi MMS. The police are still tracing the original sender.

Madhya Pradesh:

The cases of Shaheen Dhada and Rinu Srinivasan, and recently of Syed Waqar and Devu Chodankar have left Indore netizens overly cautious about “posting anything recklessly on social media”. Some feel it is a blow to democracy.

Maharashtra:

In Navi Mumbai, the Karjat police seized several computers, hard disks and blank CDs from the premises of the Chandraprabha Charitable Trust in connection with an investigation into sexual abuse of children at the Trust’s school-shelter. The police seek to verify whether the accused recorded any obscene videos of child sexual abuse.

In Mumbai, even as filmmakers, filmgoers, artistes and LGBT people celebrated the Kashish Mumbai International Queer Film Festival, all remained apprehensive of the new government’s social conservatism, and were aware that the films portrayed acts now illegal in India.

Manipur:

At the inauguration of the 42nd All Manipur Shumang Leela Festival, V.K. Duggal, State Governor and Chairman of the Manipur State Kala Akademi, warned that the art form was under threat in the digital age, as Manipuri films are replacing it in popularity.

Rajasthan:

Following the lead of the Lok Sabha, the Rajasthan state assembly has adopted a digital conference and voting system to make the proceedings in the House more efficient and transparent.

Seemandhra:

Seemandhra Chief Minister designate N. Chandrababu Naidu promised a repeat of his hi-tech city miracle ‘Cyberabad’ in Seemandhra.

West Bengal:

West Bengal government has hired PSU Urban Mass Transit Company Limited to study, install and operationalize Intelligent Transport System in public transport in Kolkata. GPS will guide passengers about real-time bus routes and availability. While private telecom operators have offered free services to the transport department, there are no reports of an end-date or estimated expenditure on the project.

News and Opinion:

Over a week ago, Avantika Banerjee wrote a speculative post on the new government’s stance towards Internet policy. At Fair Observer, Gurpreet Mahajan laments that community politics in India has made a lark of banning books.

India’s Computer Emergency Response Team (CERT-In) has detected high-level virus activity in Microsoft’s Internet Explorer 8, and recommends upgrading to Explorer 11.

Of the projected 400 million users that Twitter will have by 2018, India and Indonesia are expected to outdo the United Kingdom in user base. India saw nearly 60% growth in user base this year, and Twitter played a major role in Elections 2014. India will have over 18.1 million users by 2018.

Elsewhere in the world:

Placing a bet on the ‘Internet of Everything’, Cisco CEO John Chambers predicted a “brutal consolidation” of the IT industry in the next five years. A new MarketsandMarkets report suggests that the value of the ‘Internet of Things’ may reach US $1423.09 billion by 2020 at an estimated CAGR of 4.08% from 2014 to 2020.

China’s Xinhua News Agency announced its month-long campaign to fight “infiltration from hostile forces at home and abroad” through instant messaging. Message providers WeChat, Momo, Mi Talk and Yixin have expressed their willingness to cooperate in targeting those engaging in fraud, or in spreading ‘rumours’, violence, terrorism or pornography. In March this year, WeChat deleted at least 40 accounts with political, economic and legal content.

Thailand’s military junta interrupted national television broadcast to deny any role in an alleged Facebook-block. The site went down briefly and caused alarm among netizens.

Snowden continues to assure that he is not a Russian spy, and has no relationship with the Russian government.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-may-28-29-2014

FOEX Live: May 26-27, 2014

geetha — 2014-05-27T12:42:51Z

A selection of news from across India implicating online freedom of expression and use of digital technology

Media reports across India are focusing on the new government and its Cabinet portfolios. In the midst of the celebration of and grief over the regime change, we found many reports indicating that civil society is wary of the new government’s stance towards Internet freedoms.

Andhra Pradesh:

Andhra MLA and All India Majlis-e-Ittihad ul-Muslimin member Akbaruddin Owaisi has been summoned to appear before a Kurla magistrate’s court on grounds of alleged hate speech and intention to harm harmony of Hinduism and Islam. Complainant Gulam Hussain Khan saw an online video of a December 2012 speech by Owaisi and filed a private complaint with the court. “I am prima facie satisfied that it disclosed an offence punishable under Section(s) 153A and 295A of the Indian Penal Code,” the Metropolitan Magistrate said.

Goa:

A Goa Sessions Judge has dismissed shipbuilding diploma engineer Devu Chodankar’s application for anticipatory bail. On the basis of an April 26 complaint by CII state president Atul Pai Kane, Goa cybercrime cell registered a case against Chodankar for allegedly posting matter on a Facebook group with the intention of promoting enmity between religious groups in view of the 2014 general elections. The Judge noted, inter alia, that Sections 153A and 295A of the Indian Penal Code were attracted, and that it is necessary to find out whether, on the Internet, “there is any other material which could be considered as offensive or could create hatred among different classes of citizens of India”.

Karnataka:

Syed Waqas, an MBA student from Bhatkal pursuing an internship in Bangalore, was picked up for questioning along with four of his friends after Belgaum social activist Jayant Tinaikar filed a complaint. The cause of the complaint was a MMS, allegedly derogatory to Prime Minister Narendra Modi. After interrogation, the Khanapur (Belgaum) police let Waqas off on the ground that Waqas was not the originator of the MMS, and that Mr. Tinaikar had provided an incorrect mobile phone number.

In another part of the country, Digvijaya Singh is vocal about Indian police’s zealous policing of anti-Modi comments, while they were all but visible when former Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh was the target of abusive remarks.

Kerala:

The Anti-Piracy Cell of Kerala Police plans to target those uploading pornographic content on to the Internet and its sale through memory cards. A circular to this effect has been issued to all police stations in the state, and civil society cooperation is requested.

In other news, Ernakulam MLA Hibi Eden inaugurated “Hibi on Call”, a public outreach programme that allows constituents to reach the MLA directly. A call on 1860 425 1199 registers complaints.

Maharashtra:

Mumbai police are investigating pizza delivery by an unmanned drone, which they consider a security threat.

Tamil Nadu:

Small and home-run businesses in Chennai are flourishing with the help of Whatsapp and Facebook: Mohammed Gani helps his customers match bangles with Whatsapp images, Ayeesha Riaz and Bhargavii Mani send cakes and portraits to Facebook-initiated customers. Even doctors spread information and awareness using Facebook. In Madurai, you can buy groceries online, too.

Opinion:

Chethan Kumar fears that Indian cyberspace is strangling freedom of expression through the continued use of the ‘infamous’ Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 (as amended in 2008). Sunil Garodia expresses similar concerns, noting a number of arrests made under Section 66A.

However, Ankan Bose has a different take; he believes there is a thin but clear line between freedom of expression and a ‘freedom to threaten’, and believes Devu Chodankar and Syed Waqar may have crossed that line. For more on Section 66A, please redirect here.

While Nikhil Pahwa is cautious of the new government’s stance towards Internet freedoms, given the (as yet) mixed signals of its ministers, Shaili Chopra ruminates on the new government’s potential dive into a “digital mutiny and communications revolution” and wonders about Modi’s social media management strategy. For Kashmir Times reader Hardev Singh, even Kejriwal’s arrest for allegedly defaming Nitin Gadkari will lead to a chilling effect on freedom of expression.

Elsewhere, the Hindustan Times is intent on letting Prime Minister Narendra Modi know that his citizens demand their freedom of speech and expression. Civil society and media all over India express their concerns for their freedom of expression in light of the new government.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-may-26-27-2014

FOEX Live: June 16-23, 2014

geetha — 2014-06-24T10:23:18Z

A weekly selection of news on online freedom of expression and digital technology from across India (and some parts of the world).

A quick and non-exhaustive perusal of this week’s content shows that many people are worried about the state of India’s free speech following police action on account of posts derogatory to or critical of the Prime Minister. Lawyers, journalists, former civil servants and other experts have joined in expressing this worry.

While a crackdown on freedom of expression would indeed be catastrophic and possibly unconstitutional, fears are so far based on police action in only 4 recent cases: Syed Waqar in Karnataka, Devu Chodankar in Goa and two cases in Kerala where college students and principals were arrested for derogatory references to Modi. Violence in Pune, such as the murder of a young Muslim man on his way home from prayer, or the creation of a Social Peace Force of citizens to police offensive Facebook content, are all related, but perhaps ought to be more carefully and deeply explored.

Kerala:

In the Assembly, State Home Minister Ramesh Chennithala said that the State government did not approve of the registration of cases against students on grounds of anti-Modi publications. The Minister denunciation of political opponents through cartoons and write-ups was common practice in Kerala, and “booking the authors for this was not the state government’s policy”.

Maharashtra:

Nearly 20,000 people have joined the Social Peace Force, a Facebook group that aims to police offensive content on the social networking site. The group owner’s stated aim is to target religious posts that may provoke riots, not political ones. Subjective determinations of what qualifies as ‘offensive content’ remain a troubling issue.

Tamil Nadu:

In Chennai, 101 people, including filmmakers, writers, civil servants and activists, have signed a petition requesting Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa to permit safe screening of the Indo-Sri Lankan film “With You, Without You”. The petition comes after theatres cancelled shows of the film following threatening calls from some Tamil groups.

Telangana:

The K. Chandrasekhar Rao government has blocked two Telugu news channels for airing content that was “derogatory, highly objectionable and in bad taste”.

The Telagana government’s decision to block news channels has its supporters. Padmaja Shaw considers the mainstream Andhra media contemptuous and disrespectful of “all things Telangana”, while Madabushi Sridhar concludes that Telugu channel TV9’s coverage violates the dignity of the legislature.

West Bengal:

Seemingly anti-Modi arrests have led to worry among citizens about speaking freely on the Internet. Section 66A poses a particular threat.

News & Opinion:

The Department of Telecom is preparing a draft of the National Telecom Policy, in which it plans to treat broadband Internet as a basic right. The Policy, which will include deliberations on affordable broadband access for end users, will be finalised in 100 days.

While addressing a CII CEO’s Roundtable on Media and Industry, Information and Broadcasting Minister Prakash Javadekar promised a transparent and stable policy regime, operating on a time-bound basis. He promised that efforts would be streamlined to ensure speedy and transparent clearances.

A perceived increase in police action against anti-Modi publications or statements has many people worried. But the Prime Minister himself was once a fierce proponent of dissent; in protest against the then-UPA government’s blocking of webpages, Modi changed his display pic to black.

Medianama wonders whether the Mumbai police’s Cyber Lab and helpline to monitor offensive content on the Internet is actually a good idea.

G. Sampath wonders why critics of the Prime Minister Narendra Modi can’t voluntarily refrain from exercising their freedom of speech, and allow India to be an all-agreeable development haven. Readers may find his sarcasm subtle and hard to catch.

Experts in India mull over whether Section 79 of the Information Technology Act, 2000, carries a loophole enabling users to exercise a ‘right to be forgotten’. Some say Section 79 does not prohibit user requests to be forgotten, while others find it unsettling to provide private intermediaries such powers of censorship.

Some parts of the world:

Sri Lanka has banned public meetings or rallies intended to promote religious hatred.

In Pakistan, Twitter has restored accounts and tweets that were taken down last month on allegations of being blasphemous or ‘unethical’.

In Myanmar, an anti-hate speech network has been proposed throughout the country to raise awareness and opposition to hate speech and violence.

For feedback, comments and any incidents of online free speech violation you are troubled or intrigued by, please email Geetha at geetha[at]cis-india.org or on Twitter at @covertlight.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-june-16-23-2014