Centre for Internet and Society

CIS Comments on the Phase III of E-Courts draft policy

Aman Nair, Arinjay Vyas, Pallavi Bedi, Garima Saxena — 2021-06-03T12:33:10Z

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

This submission is a response by the researchers at CIS to the Supreme Court E-committee’s draft vision document of phase III of the E-courts project.

We have put forward the following comments and recommendations based on our analysis of the draft report:

A. General Comments

The report must place greater emphasis and take into consideration the digital divide between the urban and rural population as well as the the gender divide that exists amongst Indian citizens
There is a lack of clarity on how the data will be collected and shared between the different systems within the ICJS and for how long will the data be retained.
There is a lack of clarity on the rules and regulations surrounding storage of data collected under this project
There are a number of key limitations of the proposed technologies (automated courts, virtual courtrooms and online dispute resolution mechanisms) that will limit their effectiveness
Increased technological integration would require dedicated efforts to foster public trust in the judicial process.

B. International Comparison

We have comparatively analysed the integration of digital technology into the judiciary in both South Asia and Africa. Having identified their implementation in both these regions we have identified the following trends:

While South Asian countries like Philippines and Thailand are constantly developing strong systems to handle most cases online and transitioning to an e-court system, countries like Vietnam and Indonesia have introduced limited systems for exchange of documents before hearings.
The issues reported with the functioning of the e-court system in South Asian nations include insufficient infrastructure and equipment, inadequate training of court personnel, limited IT support, and staff shortages that constrain data encoding and updating of court records.
Countries like China and Singapore undertook a deliberative slow uptake process, applying eCourts and technology to judicial hearings sectorally in the beginning to test their effectiveness. Thereafter large-scale implementation of virtual or digital courts and new technologies like - data analytics for caseload prediction in Singapore and China’s e-evidence platform based on blockchain technology - have proved to serve the intended purpose of efficient and effective judicial process with the aid of digital technologies.
African countries such as Kenya and Libya have seamlessly transitioned to virtual court systems and e-filings along with other e-services for justice delivery. However, challenges with implementation persist, mainly relating to -

● Low internet penetration rates creating a digital divide mainly between the urban and rural areas of Africa.
● Power outages, mainly in rural areas of Africa thus creating an impediment to access to justice with respect to virtual hearings in rural areas without electricity backup.
● Lack of skills for operating digital judicial systems requiring effective and continuous user-training to operate technologies like Kenya’s Electronic Case Management System (ECMS).
● Challenges with complicated digital systems where continuous user platform development is required to simplify processes to access and use systems like online-filing or access to judicial websites so as to make it easy to use for all stakeholders involved.
● Need for a singular legislative and regulatory framework prior to adoption, whereby different rules on similar cases in different virtual courts across states causes inter-state judicial splits, an impediment to access to justice

C. Recommendations:
1. Dedicated programs must be identified and supported to ensure that citizen focused digitisation takes place so as to not leave any people out of the scope of the judiciary

A dedicated regulatory and administrative framework must be published as soon as possible that takes into consideration questions of data storage, data protection and purpose limitation among other considerations. Such a framework must also explicitly call out the limited use cases of technologies like virtual courts.
The MHA to codify and specify the regulations with regard to the processing of data through the systems under the ICJS and clear directives on the nature and scope of integration of judicial infrastructure with the ICJS must be provided
Studies to be conducted to identify the challenges that may arise when implementing proposals such as virtual or automated courts, virtual courtrooms that use audio visual software and online dispute resolution mechanisms. Such studies would allow for policies to be effectively identified prior to widespread implementation and would significantly reduce the possibility of unintended harms.
Identifying measures to improve public trust in the integration of technology within the judiciary through judicial education schemes, etc.
Due to varying precedents provided by High Courts and the Supreme Court of the country, there is a requirement for uniform and clear guidelines/directives with respect to the process of electronic evidence management and preservation in India.

The full submission can be found here

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/cis-comments-on-phase-iii-e-courts-draft-policy

The Internet in the Indian Judicial Imagination

Divij Joshi — 2015-09-09T05:26:50Z

This post by Divij Joshi is part of the 'Studying Internets in India' series. Divij is a final year student at the National Law School of India University, Bangalore and is a keen observer and researcher on issues of law, policy and technology. In this essay, he traces the history of the Internet in India through the lens of judicial trends, and looks at how the judiciary has defined its own role in relation to the Internet.

Introduction

On the 14th of August, 1995, the eve of the 48th anniversary of Indian Independence, India began a new, and wholly unanticipated tryst with destiny - Videsh Sanchar Nigam Limited (VSNL) launched India's first full Internet service for public access [1]. In 1998, just a few years after VSNL introduced dial-up Internet, around 0.5% of India’s population had regular Internet access. By 2013, the latest estimate, 15% of the country was connected to the Internet, and the number is growing exponentially [2]. As the influence of the Internet grew, the law and the courts began to take notice. In 1998, there were four mentions of the Internet in the higher judiciary (the High Courts in States and the Supreme Court of India), by 2015, it was referred to in hundreds of judgements and orders of the higher judiciary [3].

The revolutionary capacity of the Internet cannot be understated. It has played a critical part in displacing, creating and enhancing social structures and institutions – from the market, to ideas of community – and its potential still remains unexplored. The Internet has also unsettled legal systems around the world, because of its massive potential to create very new forms of social and legal relationships and paradigms which extant law was unequipped for. The dynamism of the Internet means that legislation and statutory law, being static and rigid, is inherently ill suited for the governance of the Internet, and much of this role is ultimately ceded to the judiciary. In a widely unregulated policy background, the role played by this institution in identifying and dealing with the peculiar nature of regulatory issues on the Internet – such as the central role of intermediaries, the challenges of intellectual property rights concerns, the conflicts of law between different jurisdictions, and the courts’ own role in being a regulator – is tremendously important. In this article, an attempt is made to weave a thread through judicial decisions as well as judicial obiter (or peripheral text) regarding the Internet, to explain how the judiciary has captured and defined the Internet and its capacities, potentials and actors, and what effects this has on the Internet and on society. Inter alia, this article examines how judicial disputes have shaped internet policy in India.

The Internet and the Role of the Courts

The relationship between the law and technology is reminiscent of the famous paradox posed by the greek philosopher Zeno – Achilles and a tortoise agree to race. The tortoise has a head start, and, by the logic of the paradox, Achilles is never able to catch up to him. Every time Achilles covers the distance between himself and the tortoise at any point, the tortoise has moved ahead some distance, which need to be covered once again. As Achilles covers that distance, the tortoise has once again moved a distance away, and so on, to infinite progression, proving that Achilles can never catch up to the tortoise [4].

The legal regulation of the Internet follows a similar path. The Internet was not an immediate concern for law and policy, which meant that its evolution was largely determined in a space free from centralized governmental regulation. By the time parliaments and courts began to understand the implications of Internet regulation, it was apparent that such regulation would be constrained by the very features of the Internet. The core feature of the Internet is decentralization of control, which is necessarily antithetical to creating a centralized legal regulation with. Moreover, the constant mutation in the function and use of the technology renders statutory law incredibly ineffective in being an adequate regulator. Even where legislatures determined a need to step in and draw special regulations for the Internet, they need to be either so broad or vague that they cede much of the regulatory space to interpreters – the courts – or be so specific that much of the regulation quickly becomes obsolete. Most importantly, the final authority to determine matters of constitutional import such as the content and scope of fundamental rights rests with the higher judiciary. In this scenario, the courts become the de facto policy makers for regulating technology. In light of our current political and social context, where the level of legislative debate on issues of public importance and constitutional import is negligible, the judiciary’s analysis of Internet regulation becomes even more important [5].

The judiciary is thus in a unique position to decide Internet policy and governance. The preliminary question is whether there is even a need to talk about the Internet as a special system with distinct policy concerns. The regulation of the Internet is certainly fundamental to the development of knowledge and education in societies, but do its unique features merit a departure from traditional law? The second and connected question is whether the law can actually play a role in determining how the Internet is shaped, i.e. how does technology respond to the law? The architecture of the system that defines the functionality of the Internet – like the TCP/IP protocol – has embodied certain values such as decentralization, autonomy, openness and privacy [6], which have to a large extent underlined the social and ethical implications of the Internet – the way it is used, the way it functions and the way it grows. These were the values explicitly introduced into the systems we use today to communicate and interact on the Internet [7]. However, there is no a priori, fixed nature of the Internet. The form the technologies that make up the Internet take, depend upon its architecture and its design, which are malleable, and to which laws contribute by incentivizing certain values and encumbering others. The legal regulation of the Internet, therefore critically affects the architecture of the system, and promotes and secures certain values.

Recognizing the effect of law upon the architecture of the Internet is critical to any balancing exercise that the judiciary has to conduct when it decides disputes about the Internet. The Internet is a unique public resource, in that its participants are (mostly) private actors pursuing a vareity of goals and interests. The values outlined above emerged in this context, where control was decetnralized and regulation depended to a large extent upon how these disparate parties act. However, the same values also disturb existing structures to control information for legitimate causes - such as protecting intellectual property rights or preventing hate speech. Adjudicating these values, often in the absence of any explicit social or political moral framework (with respect to lack of legislative or constitutional guidance on these values), the judicial responses end up as policy directions that shape the Internet. Seen outside a broader, progressive social context, which takes into account the impact of shaping technologies to reflect values, interests on the Internet are generally adjudicated and enforced as proprietary rights between private actors, which ultimately results in changing the dynamics and relative distribution of control over the technologies that make up the Internet. This proprietory conception of interests on the Internet is highly insular, and tends to undermine the intersts of the public as a stakeholder in the regulation of the Internet. This can play out in many ways – from regulation being overwhelmingly determined according to private interests like restricting new technologies in order to protect intellectual property; or with private actors imputed as the focal point of regulation, and therefore given massive control over the Internet. However, the courts can take a different approach to regulating the Internet. The judiciary, especially the Indian Supreme Court, has a generally activist trend, especially in environmental matters [8]. One of the most elegant principles invoked by the courts for the protection of the common environment, has been the public trust doctrine, which postulates that certain (environmental) resources exist for the public benefit and can only be eroded upon to ensure that they develop in the most beneficial way for the common resources [9]. A commons approach to the Internet would require a comprehensive evaluation of the roles played by different actors across different layers of the Internet and how to regulate them [10], but would be principally similar, in that rules of private property would be constrained by potential spillover effects on intellectual information resources.

As a prelude to examining the judicial analysis of the Internet, it is interesting to examine the judiciary’s own perception of its role in Internet regulation. Courts are constrained in their exercise of power by rules of jurisdiction, which become incredibly convoluted on the Internet. A broad assertion of state power over the net can potentially fragment it, which is an obvious problem. At the same time, state sovereignty and protection of the interests of its citizens and laws has to be balanced with the above concerns [11]. The judiciary in India first attempted to grapple with the problem by exercising ‘universal jurisdiction’ over all actions on the Internet, which allowed the Court to claim jurisdiction over a defendant as long as the website or service could be accessed from within its jurisdiction [12]. This broad-reaching standard was antithetical to the development of a harmonized, unfragmented Internet and created problems of jurisdictional and sovereign conflict. As the implications of such a direction became clear, the court evolved different standards for jurisdiction which were based on whether the Internet service had some connection with the territorial jurisdiction of the court in question. The judiciary began to develop caution in its approach towards exercising personal jurisdiction in Internet cases, first applying the ‘interactivity test’ and then the ‘specific targeting’ standards for questions of jurisdiction [13]. However, the judiciary continues to adhere to a ‘long-arm’ standard for copyright and trademark violations, which allows it to extend its jurisdiction extra-territorially under those laws, through rather specious analogies with pre-internet technologies. For example, in WWE v Reshma [14], the Court explicitly analogized sale of services or goods on the Internet with contracts concluded over the telephone. Although analogies provide a comfortable framework for analysis, they also shield important distinctions between technologies from legal analysis. Problems arising from Internet cases – where many actors across many jurisdictions are involved in varying degrees – are unique to Internet technologies and such analogies ignore these important distinctions. Morever, in all the above cases, the judiciary’s assertions of power over the Internet seems to be restricted only by pragmatic regulatory concerns (such as whether personal obedience of the defendant can be secured) and its evolving understanding of questions of jurisdiction are explicitly linked to changes in the use and perception of the Internet and an understanding of interactivity and communication on the Internet.

The Early Internet and Judicial Perceptions

The Internet crept into the judicial vocabulary in 1996; a year after public access was made available, when the Supreme Court first took cognizance of ‘Internet’ as a means of interlinking countries and gathering information instantaneously [15]. Several other cases in the High Courts also spoke of the ‘Information Highway’ [16] and the various services that companies were offering, which could be availed by individuals on the Internet [17]. This corresponded with the popular understanding of the ‘first wave’ of the Internet, mostly relating to business providing services and information to users on the World Wide Web or as a space for limited personal interaction (such as through email) [18].

Some of the earliest cases where the Courts had the opportunity to examine the nature of the Internet were related to Intellectual Property on the Internet, specifically trademark and copyright in the online world. The Domain Name System, which serve to identify devices accessible on the Internet, was one of the first regulatory challenges on the Internet. Domain name disputes were unprecedented in the analog world of intellectual property, since domain names were uniquely scarce goods due to the limitations of the DNS technology. In India, the Delhi High Court in the case of Yahoo v Akash Arora first took cognizance of regulatory challenges of the DNS system on the Internet, a space which it conceptualized as a large public network of computers, and held that domain names serve the same functions on the Internet as trademarks. This case saw the recognition of the Internet as a separate, regulable space, which the Court defined as “a global collection of computer networks linking millions of public and private computers around the world.” The Court recognized some of the core, democratic features of the Internet: “The Internet is now recognized as an international system, a communication medium that allows anyone from any part of the lobe with access to the Internet to freely exchange information and share data.” In this case, the Court upheld traditional trademark rights in the case of use of domain names. The Court’s first recognition of trademark on the Internet heralded the imputation of proprietary interests on the decentralized, shared network that was the Internet, and was a precursor to the many such cases, which mostly focused on private commercial concerns. Even as the Court understood the importance of the Internet commons, i.e. the information and architecture that makes up the Internet, it chose to ignore concerns of public interest in the openness of those commons, in its balancing of proprietary rights for trademark cases. The commercial significance of the Internet was echoed in the Rediff case, where the Bombay High Court opined that “Undoubtedly the Internet is one of the important features of the Information Revolution. It is increasingly used by commercial organisations to promote themselves and their product and in some cases to buy and sell” [19]. Moreover, in these early cases, the law of the analog age was applied wholesale to the Internet, without examining in-depth the possible differences in principle and approach, providing no precedent for the development of an ‘internet law’ [20]. Overly focussed on the proprietary nature of Internet interests, the conception of the Internet as a non-commercial space for collaboration at a decentralized or an individual level is absent from the judicial vocabulary at this stage.

Private Actors and Public Interest

The Internet permits decentralization in the hands of several private actors, which makes control of information over it so difficult. However, the information and technology that makes up the Internet are also highly centralized at certain nodal points, such as the services which provide the physical infrastructure of the Internet (like ISPs) or intermediaries which create platforms for distribution of information. Since the Internet has no centralized architecture to enable governmental control, these private intermediaries fall squarely in the crosshairs of regulatory concerns, specifically concerning their liability as facilitators of offensive or illegal content and actions. Facebook, Ebay, Twitter, Myspace, YouTube and Google are examples of private actors that have emerged as dominant service providers that host, index or otherwise facilitate access to user-generated content. Other forms of intermediaries, such as software like Napster or torrent databases like The Pirate Bay, are responsible for driving the growth of Internet-based technologies, like new modes of information sharing and communication. These services have emerged as the most important platform for sharing of information and free speech on the Internet. Most of the interaction and communication on the Internet takes place through these intermediaries and therefore they are in a position to control much of the speech that takes place online. The implications of regulating such actors are quite enormous, and its context is unique to the Internet. These private actors now control the bulk of the information that is shared online, and many of them have almost monopolistic control over certain unique forms of information sharing – think Google in the case of search engines. Developing an adequate regulatory mechanism for them is therefore critical to the future of the net. If the laws do not adequately protect their ability to host content without being liable for the same, it is likely that these actors will lean towards collateral censorship of speech beyond that which is prohibited by law, simply to protect against liability. Secondly, such liability would tend to disincentivise the creation of new platforms and services that increase access to knowledge, which have been integral to innovation on the Internet [21]. The issue of intermediary liability at this scale is unique to the Internet. The court has to adequately frame policy considerations which strike at the fundamental nature of the Internet, such as intellectual property and access to information. At the same time, concerns about legal accountability need to also be addressed. The approach that courts have taken towards the role of intermediaries is therefore critical towards any examination of Internet regulation [22].

In India, the first court to explicitly examine the public importance in issues of online intermediary liability was in the context of regulation of pornography, specifically child pornography, which has been a mainstay of regulatory concerns on the Internet. The case prompted legislative action in the form of creating rules to secure intermediary immunity. In this case the Court imputed liability for the listings of certain offensive content upon the owners of the website, Bazzee.com. Hard cases make bad law, and the same was true of this case. Referring to the challenges of regulating content on the Internet, due to the inability of methods to screen and filter such content, the Court held that intermediaries must be strictly liable for all offensive content on their site. The Court held that:

The proliferation of the internet and the possibility of a widespread use through instant transmission of pornographic material, calls for a strict standard having to be insisted upon. Owners or operators of websites that offer space for listings might have to employ content filters if they want to prove that they did not knowingly permit the use of their website for sale of pornographic material…even if for some reason the filters fail, the presumption that the owner of the website had the knowledge that the product being offered for sale was obscene would get attracted.

Intermediaries, therefore, were imputed with the liability of controlling ‘obscene’ speech – a vague and over-broad standard which did not account for the realities of online speech [23]. The above analysis reflects the judiciary’s refusal to take into account the technical concerns on the Internet which ultimately shape its architecture – and the limitations of the judiciary in reflecting upon their own role in policy making on the internet. Ultimately, the decision was overturned by a legislative act, which invoked different standards of liability for intermediaries.

In Consim Info Pvt. Ltd vs Google India Pvt. Ltd [24], the Madras High Court considered “Keyword Advertising” and the liability of search engines and competitors for ‘meta-tags’ that resulted in search engine results which may divert a trademark holder’s traffic. Google’s AdWord programme, which allows purchase of certain ‘keywords’ for the search engine results, and can potentially enable certain forms of trademark infringement, was at issue [25]. Trademarks as AdWords or search terms fulfil and important social utility of information access [26]. However, the Court’s reasoning was conspicuously missing an analysis of the public interest in protecting and promoting search engines, which were important concerns taken into account when these issues were deliberated in other forums [27]. The Court saw this dispute only taking into account private property interests and not public interest considerations, such as the general public benefit of technology which enables new forms of searching and indexing. In fact, an argument by the defendant based on the fundamental right to free (commercial) speech was raised and ignored by the court. The Court therefore ignored the public importance of search engines in favour of protecting proprietary interests which arose in a different context.

Copyright law also has tremendous implications on the Internet. As the Internet became the primary mode for the distribution of different kinds of information and creative content, the very ease of sharing that contributed to its popularity made it prone to violations of copyright, and this created a conflict between the interests of traditional rights holders and the development of the Internet as a means of better sharing of information and knowledge. The problem of holding intermediaries liable for conduct has been compounded in cases where the Court ordered ex-parte ‘John Doe’ orders against unknown defendants likely to be infringing copyright, and imputed the liability for removal of such content on the intermediaries or ISP’s, effectively issuing wide blocking orders without considering their implications or even providing a fair hearing [28]. In RK Productions [29], for instance, when holding that ISPs could be liable for failure to follow blocking orders against infringing content, the Madras High Court described the role of ISPs, such as Airtel and VSNL, as “vessels for others to use their services to infringe third party works.” Once again, the court took a particularly pessimistic view of the Internet’s capabilities, limiting its analysis to the ISP’s function in facilitating infringement and holding that “Without the ISPs, no person would be in a position to access the pirated contents nor would the unknown persons be in a position to upload the pirated version of the film.” In Myspace, the Delhi High Court held that no different standard for secondary infringement (by intermediaries) applied on the Internet, and imputed the same standard as in the 1957 Copyright Act. (In fact, it explicitly compared Myspace to brick and mortar shops selling infringing DVD’s or CD’s) [30]. The Court held that the principles of immunity under the IT Act were overridden by the provisions of the Copyright Act, and then went on to impute a strict standard for intermediaries seeking safe harbor for infringing material, including, inexplicably, that provision of some means to tackle infringement would be sufficient proof of knowledge of actual infringement, and therefore implicating mere passive platforms as infringers. Further, the Court expressly rejected a post-hoc solution for the same, and held that the intermediaries must ensure prior restraint of infringing works to escape liability. The claims that arise in cases of infringement of intellectual property on the Internet, specifically in the liability of intermediaries, are unique, and have unique implications. The inability or refusal of the judiciary to identify claims of freedom of speech and freedom of information of the larger public within the internet commons, in response to broad censorship orders for preventing infringement means that implicitly, policy takes a direction that favours private interests.

An analysis of the above cases shows that important implications of intermediary liability such as the effect on the public’s access to information and the freedom of speech in the context of the Internet did not play a role in the Courts decisions. In particular, the examination of cases above shows that private disputes are now at the forefront of issues of public importance. The Courts have unfortunately taken an insular view of these disputes, adjudicating them as inter-party, without considering the public function that private players on the Internet provide, and how their decisions should factor in these considerations.

However, the recent case of Shreya Singhal v Union of India [31], decided by the Supreme Court this March, hopefully announces a departure from this insular examination of the Internet towards a constitutional analysis, where framing an appropriate public policy for the Internet is at the forefront of the Court’s analysis.

Shreya Singhal and Constitutionalizing the Internet

In March, 2015, the Supreme Court of India struck down the notoriously abused Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, which criminalized certain classes of speech, and hopefully heralded a new phase of Internet jurisprudence in India, which imports constitutionalism into matters of cyberspace. Section 66A, premised on the pervasiveness of the Internet, criminalized online speech on vague grounds such as ‘grossly offensive’ or ‘menacing’. The Court’s examination of the nature of the Internet is particularly important. While dismissing a challenge that speech on the Internet should not be treated as distinct from other speech, the Supreme Court opined that “the internet gives any individual a platform which requires very little or no payment through which to air his views”, and by this reasoning concluded that to a limited extent, specific offences could be drawn for online speech. However, this understanding of the features of the Internet – the democratization of knowledge sharing by making it cheap and expansive, was implicit throughout the Court’s judgement, which upheld the idea of the Internet as a ‘marketplace of ideas’ and a space for free and democratic exchange, and struck down the impugned restrictive provisions as unconstitutional, in part because of their vagueness and likelihood to censor legitimate speech, bearing no relation to the constitutional restrictions on free speech under Article 19(2). Moreover, the Court understood the importance of collateral censorship and intermediary safe harbor, although only briefly examined, and read down expansive intermediary liability terms under the IT Rules to include prior judicial review of takedown notices [32].

Hopefully, the Shreya Singhal judgement marks the beginning of constitutional engagement of the judiciary with the Internet. At this moment itself, the Supreme Court is grappling with questions of limitations of online pornography [33]; search engine liability for hate speech [34]; intermediary liability for defamation [35]; and liability for mass surveillance. How the Supreme Court takes cognizance of these cases, how they ultimately proceed, and how they take into account the principles sounded by the Shreya Singhal court, will have a tremendous impact on the internet and society in India.

Conclusion

This article was an attempt to study the Internet in India, and look at the relationship between the judiciary and the Internet. But ‘the Internet’ is not some fixed, immutable space, and any study has to take this into account. The function of the Internet depends upon the values built in to it. These values can be in favor of free speech, or enable censorship. They can protect privacy, or enable mass surveillance. The growth of the Internet as a medium of free speech and expression has been fuelled to a large extent in the spaces free of legal regulation, but the law is perhaps the most important regulator of the Internet, in its ability to use state power to create incentives for certain values, and to change the nature of the Internet. This study, therefore, charted the dynamic relationship between judicial law and other factors responsible for the regulation of the Internet.

For a technology which is so pervasive in our daily lives, and growing in importance day by day, it is surprising that the Supreme Court of India has only recently taken cognizance of constitutional issues on the Internet. While important internet-specific issues have arisen in disputes before the judiciary, judicial examination has generally ignored technical nuances of the new technology, and furthermore ignored the wider implications of framing Internet policy by applying rules that applied in other contexts, such as for copyright or trademark. Without a clear articulation of political and moral bases to guide Internet policy, a clear policy-driven approach to the Internet remains absent, and the regulatory space has been captured by fragmented interest groups without an assessment of larger interests in maintaining the Internet commons, such as allowing peer-based production and sharing of information.

There is, however, reason to be optimistic about the courts and the Internet. The Supreme Courts reaffirmation and identification of the freedom of speech on the Internet in Shreya Singhal, will, hopefully, resonate in the policy decisions of both the courts and legislators, and the internet can be reformulated as a space deserving constitutional scrutiny and protection.

References

[1] VSNL Starts India's First Internet Service Today, The Indian Technomist, (14th August, 1995), available at http://dxm.org/techonomist/news/vsnlnow.html.

[2] Internet Statistics by Country, International Telecommunication Union, available at http://www.itu.int/en/ITU-D/Statistics/Pages/stat/default.aspx.

[3] Source: http://manupatra.com/.

[4] Nick Huggett, Zeno's Paradoxes, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Edward N. Zalta (ed.), available at http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2010/entries/paradox-zeno/.

[5] See: http://indianexpress.com/article/india/india-others/a-little-reminder-no-one-in-house-debated-section-66a-congress-brought-it-and-bjp-backed-it/; Publicly available records of Lok Sabha debates also show no mention of this controversial law.

[6] I take values to mean certain desirable goals and methods, which could be both intrinsically good to pursue and whose pursuit allows other instrumental goods to be achieved. See Michael J. Zimmerman, Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Value, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Edward N. Zalta (ed.), available at http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2015/entries/value-intrinsic-extrinsic/.

[7] Hellen Nissenbaum, How Computer Systems Embody Values, Computer Magazine, 118, (March 2001), available at https://www.nyu.edu/projects/nissenbaum/papers/embodyvalues.pdf.

[8] S.P. Sathe, Judicial Activism: The Indian Experience, 6 Washington University Journal of Law & Policy, 29, (2001).

[9] M.C. Mehta v. Kamal Nath and Ors., 2000(5) SCALE 69.

[10] Yochai Benkler, From Consumers to Users: Shifting the Deeper Structures of Regulation Toward Sustainable Commons and User Access, 52(3) Federal Communications Law Journal, 561, (2000).

[11] Thomas Shultz, Carving up the Internet: Jurisdiction, Legal Orders, and the Private/Public International Law Interface, 19(4) European Journal Of International Law, 799, (2008); Wendy A. Adams, Intellectual Property Infringement in Global Networks: The Implications of Protection Ahead of the Curve, 10 Int’l J.L. & Info. Tech, 71, (2002).

[12] Casio India Co. Limited v. Ashita Tele Systems Pvt. Limited, 2003 (27) P.T.C. 265 (Del.) (India).

[13] Banyan Tree Holding (P) Ltd. v. A. Murali Krishna Reddy & Anr., CS(OS) 894/2008.

[14] World Wrestling Entertainment v. Reshma Collection (FAO (OS) 506/2013 (Delhi).

[15] Dr. Ashok v. Union of India and Ors., AIR 1997 SC 2298.

[16] Rajan Johnsonbhai Christy vs State Of Gujarat, (1997) 2 GLR 1077.

[17] Union Of India And Ors. Vs. Motion Picture Association And Ors, 1999 (3) SCR 875; Yahoo!, Inc. vs Akash Arora & Anr., 1999 IIAD Delhi 229 – “The Internet provides information about various corporations, products as also on various subjects like educational, entertainment, commercial, government activities and services.”

[18] Yochai Benkler, The Wealth of Networks.

[19] Rediff Communication Limited vs Cyberbooth & Another, 1999 (4) Bom CR 278.

[20] Even when the Supreme Court finally recognized these concerns a few years later, when the Internet had morphed into a massive commercial platform and an important forum for free speech, in the Satyam Infotech case (2004(3)AWC 2366 SC), it discussed the unique problem of domain name identifiers and scarcity of domain names, yet went on to hold that an even higher standard of passing off for trademarks should apply in domain names, disregarding the prior standard of an ‘honest concurrent user’.

[21] Jack Balkin, The Future of Free Expression in a Digital Age, 36 Pepperdine Law Review, (2008)

[22] Id.

[23] Avnish Bajaj v. State (NCT of Delhi), 3 Comp. L.J. 364 (2005).

[24] 2013 (54) PTC 578 (Mad)

[25] The judgement also reveals the predominance of Google’s search engine service. The Court defines the operation of “search engines” as synonymous with Google’s particular service – including adding elements like the ‘I’m Feeling Lucky’ option as defining elements of search engines.

[26] David J. Franklyn & David A. Hyman, Trademarks As Search Engine Keywords: Much Ado About Something?, 26(2) Harvard Journal of Law and Technology, 540, (2013).

[27] Id.

[28] Reliance Big Entertainment v. Multivision Network and Ors, Delhi High Court, available at http://cis-india.org/internet-governance/resources/john-doe-order-reliance-entertainment-v-multivision-network-and-ors.-movie-singham; Sagarika Music Pvt. Ltd. v. Dishnet Wireless Ltd., C.S. No. 23/2012, G.A. No. 187/2012 (Calcutta High Court Jan. 27, 2012) (order); See Generally, Ananth Padmanabhan, Give Me My Space and Take Down His, 9 Indian Journal of Law and Technology, (2013).

[29] R.K. Productions v. BSNL Ltd and Ors. O.A.No.230 of 2012, Madras High Court.

[30] Super Cassetes Industries Ltd. v. Myspace Inc. and Anr., 2011 (47) P.T.C. 49 (Del.)

[31] Shreya Singhal and Ors. V Union of India and Ors., W.P.(Crl).No. 167 of 2012, Supreme Court, (2015).

[32] The courts refusal to address important questions of intermediary responsibility has also been criticized, see Jyoti Pandey, The Supreme Court Judgment in Shreya Singhal and What It Does for Intermediary Liability in India?, Centre for Internet and Society, available at http://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/sc-judgment-in-shreya-singhal-what-it-means-for-intermediary-liability.

[33] See: http://sflc.in/kamlesh-vaswani-v-uoi-w-p-c-no-177-of-2103/.

[34] See: http://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/search-engine-and-prenatal-sex-determination.

[35] See: https://indiancaselaws.wordpress.com/2013/10/23/google-india-pvt-ltd-vs-visaka-industries-limited/.

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Governing Speech on the Internet: From the Free Marketplace Policy to a Controlled 'Public Sphere'

Smarika Kumar — 2015-08-28T05:57:55Z

This post by Smarika Kumar is part of the 'Studying Internets in India' series. Smarika is a consultant with Alternative Law Forum, Bangalore. She is interested in issues concerning law and technology. In this essay, Smarika explores how through the use of policy and regulation, the private marketplace of the internet is sought to be reined in and reconciled to the public sphere, which is mostly represented through legislations governing the internet.

Introduction

The internet is widely thought to be unprecedented and radically different from the media which preceded it. Interestingly, the internet has been unlike other media, in that it does not have a history of being monopolised by governments. True, certain States have tried to regulate the internet in a manner which allows them to exercise an increased control over it, some others have a greater control over the internet root given the history of development of the internet, but nevertheless no one State can be said to “own” the internet in any jurisdiction, in the manner of telephone or broadcast monopolies. Internet as it stands now, at its essence, is a largely private of networks connecting privately-owned, and occasionally publicly-funded platforms.

This feature of the internet poses an interesting problem when one tries to think about speech. In law and policymaking, an important question remains: Should internet be treated as the marketplace of privately managed avenues for speech, or should speech on the internet be treated within the bigger concept of the public sphere? Moreover, how are law and policy in India currently disposed towards speech on the internet? In the present essay, I hope to discuss some of these issues by looking at the judgement in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India [1], which was pronounced by the Supreme Court of India in March 2015. The judgement is most widely recognised as a culmination of several challenges to Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 which criminalised a wide range of speech on the internet on the grounds of very broad terms like “grossly offensive”, “causing annoyance” and “inconvenience, danger, and obstruction.” Section 66A was challenged along with Sections 69A and 79 of the Act, which lay down the rules for blocking of content on the internet, and for intermediary liability and responsibility to take down internet content, respectively. This challenge was made on grounds of being in violation of the Right to Freedom of Speech and Expression and Right to Equality guaranteed by the Constitution of India among others. However, while the judgement struck down Section 66A as unconstitutional, it upheld the constitutionality of the State-directed Internet blocking Rules as well as Intermediary Liability Guidelines. This may pose a paradox if one accounts for the fact that at the heart of it, all—Section 66A, Section 69A and Section 79, were actually legislations regulating speech. Then why strike one down and uphold others? To seek an answer in the present essay, I broadly look at the philosophical origins of regulation of speech on the internet. Two theories in philosophy—John Stuart Mill’s The Marketplace of Ideas and Jurgen Habermas’ Public Sphere have been very influential in liberal democratic traditions and jurisdictions in thinking about the governance of speech. Scholarly work concerning media law in other jurisdictions has also elaborated on how each of these theories can be implicitly used differently in judicial interpretations to serve different ends [2]. In this, the Marketplace of Ideas approach tends to treat speech and platforms for speech as part of the competition within a market context, whereby different kinds of ideas or speech compete with each other to find an avenue for expression. The Public Sphere approach on the other hand, treats different kinds of speech as part of a larger democratic concept of discussion and speech, whereby the aspiration is for representation of diverse kinds and sources of speech, rather than competition between them.

With the utilisation of these different underlying philosophical assumptions, legal implications can be so vastly different. And when that happens, it becomes essential to trace the process of how these philosophical approaches themselves work in legal argumentation. For these reasons, it becomes critical to probe the thinking in Shreya Singhal judgement to understand which philosophical attitude to speech it actually inheres: the Marketplace of Ideas conception, or the Public Sphere approach? I argue in this essay that while traces of both the Marketplace of Ideas and the Public Sphere approach are present in Shreya Singhal, neither of these philosophies actually govern the rationale of the judgement. An analysis of Shreya Singhal along with the judgement in Cricket Association of Bengal (1995) [3] which it refers to, shows that it is in fact, a third philosophy, rooted in the impulse of colonial control, which gives Shreya Singhal its philosophical consistency.

The Marketplace of Ideas in Shreya Singhal

The judgement in Shreya Singhal actually employs the idea of the marketplace in its approach to discuss the implications of Section 66A. It begins by referring to the 2010 Supreme Court judgement of S. Khushboo v. Kanniamal and Anr [4] which had spoken about the concept of the marketplace of ideas, and how employing it is essential to safeguard “unpopular speech” under the Right to Freedom of Speech and Expression in the Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution of India. The Court marks out this reference to the marketplace of ideas, tracing this concept back to the 1919 American judgement of Abrams v. United States [5]. The Supreme Court states, talking about the Khushboo case:

This last judgement is important in that it refers to the “market place of ideas” concept that has permeated American Law. This was put in the felicitous words of Justice Holmes in his famous dissent in Abrams v. United States, 250 US 616 (1919), thus: “But when men have realized that time has upset many fighting faiths, they may come to believe even more than they believe the very foundations of their own conduct that the ultimate good desired is better reached by free trade in ideas-that the best test of truth is the power of thought to get itself accepted in the competition of the market, and that truth is the only ground upon which their wishes safely can be carried out. That at any rate is the theory of our Constitution.” (para 11)

The Supreme Court judgement goes onto trace the history of Marketplace of Ideas in American jurisprudence, and understand its place within the Indian Constitution. The Court holds:

This leads us to a discussion of what is the content of the expression “freedom of speech and expression”. There are three concepts which are fundamental in understanding the reach of this most basic of human rights. The first is discussion, the second is advocacy, and the third is incitement. Mere discussion or even advocacy of a particular cause howsoever unpopular is at the heart of Article 19(1)(a). It is only when such discussion or advocacy reaches the level of incitement that Article 19(2) kicks in. (para 13)

The Marketplace of Ideas then becomes the philosophical tenet which pivots the judgement around its unique jurisprudential concept: the distinction between discussion, advocacy and incitement. This conception of the marketplace holds that State interference in speech on the internet has to be kept off as long as the condition of such speech being incitement is not fulfilled. In a way, this is a hands-off approach to the governance of speech which is solidified in the Court’s declaration of the unconstitutionality of Section 66A. The Court refers to the American judgement of Reno, Attorney General of United States v. American Civil Liberties Union [6] to bring this logic to speech on the internet as well. Citing the district court judgement in this case, it holds:

[I]t is no exaggeration to conclude that the Internet has achieved, and continues to achieve, the most participatory marketplace of mass speech that this country – and indeed the world – as yet seen. The plaintiffs in these actions correctly describe the ‘democratizing’ effects of Internet communication: individual citizens of limited means can speak to a worldwide audience on issues of concern to them. Federalists and Anti-federalists may debate the structure of their government nightly, but these debates occur in newsgroups or chat rooms rather than in pamphlets. Modern-day Luthers still post their theses, but to electronic bulletins boards rather than the door of the Wittenberg Schlosskirche. More mundane (but from a constitutional perspective, equally important) dialogue occurs between aspiring artists, or French cooks, or dog lovers, or fly fishermen. 929 F. Supp. At 881. (at page 425) (para 60)

Shreya Singhal’s striking down of 66A then becomes founded in the idea that the State need not interfere in what kind of speech is made in the marketplace of the internet, as long as such speech does not amount to incitement. In a particular sphere of speech which is “not incitement” then, the logic of the Marketplace of Ideas approach seems to work in the Shreya Singhal judgement.

Recognition of the Limitations of the Marketplace of Ideas and a Move towards Public Sphere

One would then surmise that the use of the Marketplace of Ideas approach is what makes Shreya Singhal such a pro-freedom of speech pronouncement. But interestingly, the judgement also cites the matter of The Secretary, Ministry of Information & Broadcasting v. Cricket Association of Bengal and Anr [3] which has been remarkable for outlining the limitations of the marketplace in the governance and production of a diversity of opinions and sources in speech. The Cricket Association of Bengal case was brought forth before the Supreme Court in 1995, after the liberalisation regime in media, to challenge the constitutionality of preventing a private broadcaster to use Indian airwaves in order to exclusively broadcast a cricket match.

The Court, while holding that there was no such exclusive right inhering in a private broadcaster since airwaves had to be allocated and used in public interest, also held that the limitations on a private broadcaster’s right to broadcast also could not extend beyond Article 19(2). In doing so, the Court recognises that the marketplace in a free and competitive system may not always be sufficient enough to make use of the media to generate and represent speech which is in the democratic public interest of discussion and advocacy. Shreya Singhal cites this portion of the judgement in support of its own rationale of striking down Section 66A. It holds:

The right to use the airwaves and the content of the programmes, therefore, needs regulation for balancing it and as well as to prevent monopoly of information and views relayed, which is a potential danger flowing from the concentration of the right to broadcast/telecast in the hands either of a central agency or of few private affluent broadcasters. That is why the need to have a central agency representative of all sections of the society free from control both of the Government and the dominant influential sections of the society. This is not disputed. But to contend that on that account the restrictions to be imposed on the right under Article 19(1)(a) should be in addition to those permissible under Article 19(2) and dictated by the use of public resources in the best interests of the society at large, is to misconceive both the content of the freedom of speech and expression and the problems posed by the element of public property in, and the alleged scarcity of, the frequencies as well as by the wider reach of the media. (para 29)

The recognition in Shreya Singhal that unregulated, the marketplace can lead to “a monopoly of information and views relayed” flowing from the hands of “either a central agency or a few private affluent broadcasters” points to the limitation of the Marketplace of Ideas approach itself. Such recognition culminated into a more participation-focused idea of what it means to live in a democracy: the idea of a Public Sphere where regulation and governance of media is done in order to expand participation of different kinds of ideas and people within public speech. The Court again cites Cricket Association of Bengal in this regard to state:

When, however, there are surplus or unlimited resources and the public interests so demand or in any case do not prevent telecasting, the validity of the argument based on limitation of resources disappears. It is true that to own a frequency for the purposes of broadcasting is a costly affair and even when there are surplus or unlimited frequencies, only the affluent few will own them and will be in a position to use it to subserve their own interest by manipulating news and views. That also poses a danger to the freedom of speech and expression of the have-nots by denying them the truthful information on all sides of an issue which is so necessary to form a sound view on any subject. (para 29)

In background of this, it could be said that the Marketplace of Ideas, while it forms an important part of the backbone in the striking down of Section 66A, it is not all there is to it. The idea of participation in a Public Sphere is recognised as well, and to an extent it is the barrier to participation in this Public Sphere, which enables the declaration of Section 66A as unconstitutional.

Public Sphere or the Marketplace? : (N)either, but a Dynamics of Control

Much of the discourse around Shreya Singhal’s discussion on Sections 69A and 79, has seen it as divorced from the discussion around Section 66A. The discussion on Section 69A and 79 in the judegment has been seen as regressive, or ambiguous, while the portion of the judgement dealing with Section 66A has been largely been pronounced progressive and liberal. It has also been argued that the discussion on Section 66A in Shreya Singhal departs from a myriad previous judgements and their approach towards the governance of free speech [7]. I would like to argue on the contrary, that there is in fact, a deep continuity in the judgement on various provisions, as well as with prior judgements on speech, as far as the approach which is taken towards the governance of speech generally, and speech on the internet, specifically, is concerned.

To understand this continuity, it is of critical importance to note how the approaches of Public Sphere and the Marketplace of Ideas are contrasted in Cricket Association of Bengal, and by reference in Shreya Singhal as well—while the former is used to justify regulation for participation of a larger public in reception of information from the media, and the latter to keep off excessive interference by the Government. Moreover, the judgement also seems to conflate the Marketplace of Ideas and the Public Sphere conceptions of speech governance when it states:

It is clear, therefore, that the petitioners are correct in saying that the public’s right to know is directly affected by Section 66A. Information of all kinds is roped in – such information may have scientific, literary or artistic value, it may refer to current events, it may be obscene or seditious. That such information may cause annoyance or inconvenience to some is how the offence is made out. It is clear that the right of the people to know – the market place of ideas – which the internet provides to persons of all kinds is what attracts Section 66A. (para 20)

One notes in the abovementioned extract that the right to know is seen to emerge from the Marketplace of Ideas rather than through participation in the Public Sphere. In light of these observations, one can then ask the question: What is really at the philosophical heart of Shreya Singhal judgement when it can employ both these approaches? One can argue that the focus of the judgement is to balance these two approaches for the governance of speech. But what is the aim of such an attempt to “balance”? Where is it really leading to? The answer may lie in analysing the rest of Shreya Singhal, including its pronouncements on Executive Rules under Section 69A and Section 79, both of which while being regressive, were upheld as constitutional.

The issue under Section 69A concerned the constitutional validity of the Blocking Rules of the internet, while that under Section 79 concerned the liability of intermediaries on the internet. What is interesting is that the Court in its analysis of Rules under both these sections does not go into the grounds which have been prescribed for the blocking of websites, or for pinning intermediary liability. Commenting on the Rules under Section 69A, the judgement holds:

Merely because certain additional safeguards such as those found in Section 95 and 96 CrPC are not available does not make the Rules constitutionally infirm. We are of the view that the Rules are not constitutionally infirm in any manner. (para 111)

Additionally it places emphasis on the premise the satisfaction of the Central Government that it is necessary to block a website, is a valuable assumption to proceed with the blocking of such website within the tenet of Article 19(2). It holds:

It will be noticed that Section 69A unlike Section 66A is a narrowly drawn provision with several safeguards. First and foremost, blocking can only be resorted to where the Central Government is satisfied that it is necessary so to do. (para 109)

Similarly, for the Rules under Section 79, the Court strikes down the premise that private censorship of internet content based on the judgement of intermediaries is constitutionally permissible. (see para 117) However, it upholds constitutionality of removal of content by an intermediary upon knowledge of a court order to this effect, as well as knowledge of notification by the appropriate government. It states:

Section 79(3)(b) has to be read down to mean that the intermediary upon receiving actual knowledge that a court order has been passed asking it to expeditiously remove or disable access to certain material must then fail to expeditiously remove or disable access to that material. This is for the reason that otherwise it would be very difficult for intermediaries like Google, Facebook etc. to act when millions of requests are made and the intermediary is then to judge as to which of such requests are legitimate and which are not. We have been informed that in other countries worldwide this view has gained acceptance, Argentina being in the forefront. Also, the Court order and/or the notification by the appropriate Government or its agency must strictly conform to the subject matters laid down in Article 19(2). (para 117)

In this manner while the power of speech regulation is taken away from private intermediaries existing in the Marketplace of Ideas, it is restored within the organs of the State—the Judiciary and the Executive. This may not necessarily be repressive, as long as these powers of regulations are used to actually expand the Public Sphere, rather than limiting or controlling it. But the architecture of the regulations under both Sections 69A, and 79 suggest that they have been designed for control, rather than promoting discussion in the Public Sphere, as is evident from the strong censorship models they employ.

Such type of speech regulation aimed at creating a State-controlled “Public Sphere” has a long history: It has been additionally opined that the First Amendment to the Constitution which expanded the grounds under Article 19(2) embodies this colonial continuity within the Constitution framework itself [8]. Eminent lawyer, Rajeev Dhavan has analysed the colonial history of laws governing speech in India to observe continuity from the administration then, to the post-independence orientation of speech laws, to point out that an inherent distrust of the media has always existed in the legal structure, be it before or after the Indian Constitution. He traces such form of legal structure to a desire to control, rather than enable the “public” rooted in the context of colonial rather than democratic pressures [9].

This trend also links back to what happens in the case of Cricket Association of Bengal which is cited in support of the striking down of Section 66A in Shreya Singhal. In Cricket Association of Bengal, while there is a recognition of the limitations of Marketplace of Ideas in how it can concentrate participation in democratic discussions only to the hands of those with adequate purchasing power,9 it also fails to amend this through a process of greater participation and representation of diverse public on media. What it broadly does instead is conflate the public to the State, holding that it is only through State-administered public broadcasting that greater participation and representation of diverse public on media can happen. Accordingly, Justice B.P. Jeevan Reddy in his judgement states:

Public good lies in ensuring plurality of opinions, views and ideas and that would scarcely be served by private broadcasters, who would be and who are bound to be actuated by profit motive. There is a far greater likelihood of these private broadcasters indulging in misinformation, disinformation and manipulation of news and views than the government-controlled media, which is at least subject to public and parliamentary scrutiny. (para 181, emphasis added)

Such architecture of Government regulation in the governance of speech, visible both in Cricket Association of Bengal, and by extension in the 66A discussion in Shreya Singhal, but also in the Sections 69A and 79 discussion in the latter judgement, aspires not at expanding and creating a Habermasian Public Sphere of unlimited lively discussion, but rather, a pre-defined, controlled sphere of the “public” which behaves in congruence with the interests of the State. While on the surface it may seem to recognise the limits of the Marketplace of Ideas approach in speech governance and aim for reform of the same, in the bigger scheme of things, the criticism of the marketplace is really directed towards putting more control of public speech in the hands of the State machinery [9].

In such a background of the control trend, even a judgement like Shreya Singhal with such a progressive outcome, appears like a flash in the pan. It might allow for some seemingly liberal advancements in free speech, but it does so only within the larger structure of control mechanisms created for speech ingrained within a pre-independence, undemocratic form of governance which was disrespectful of an independent Public Sphere. The question which then needs to be asked is this: While judgements like Shreya Singhal strike down the really repressive, do they actually bring about a structural change in legal assumptions about public speech? Or is the same colonial desire of control which is permeating the most progressive pronouncements of our jurisdiction? Is it moving towards a participatory, diverse and independent Public Sphere, or something which appears close enough to free discussion, but really is carefully monitored to produced “socially relevant” content, whereby what is relevant is defined through a complicated State apparatus? As our speech laws move to the Internet Age, these are some questions we must ask if the hope for the law is to enable involved, democratic citizenry, rather than a colonial-flavoured Internet public.

References

[1] Judgement accessed from http://supremecourtofindia.nic.in/FileServer/2015-03-24_1427183283.pdf.

[2] Stein, Laura. 2006. Speech rights in America: The First Amendment, Democracy, and the Media. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

[3] Judgement accessed from http://indiankanoon.org/doc/539407/.

[4] Judgement accessed from http://indiankanoon.org/doc/1327342/.

[5] 250 US 616 (1919).

[6] 521 U.S. 844 (1997).

[7] Bhatia, Gautam. 2015. At the Heart of the Landmark 66A Ruling: The Crucial Distinction between Advocacy and Incitement. Scroll. March 25. Accessed from http://scroll.in/article/716034/at-the-heart-of-the-landmark-66a-ruling-the-crucial-distinction-between-advocacy-and-incitement.

[8] See: Liang, Lawrence. 2011. Reasonable Restrictions and Unreasonable Speech. InfoChange. Accessed from http://infochangeindia.org/agenda/freedom-of-expression/reasonable-restrictions-and-unreasonable-speech.html. Also see: Acharya, Bhairav. 2015. Free Speech Policy in India: Community, Custom, Censorship, and the Future of Internet Regulation. May 06. Accessed from http://notacoda.net/2015/05/06/free-speech-policy-in-india-community-custom-censorship-and-the-future-of-internet-regulation/.

[9] Dhavan, Rajeev. 2009. Moral Consensus in a Law and Order Society. In Aravind Rajagopal (ed.), The Indian Public Sphere. Oxford University Press. Pp. 92-93.

[10] See the discussion in the previous section of this essay.

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Centre for Internet and Society

CIS Comments on the Phase III of E-Courts draft policy

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

A. General Comments

B. International Comparison

C. Recommendations:

The Internet in the Indian Judicial Imagination

Introduction

The Internet and the Role of the Courts

The Early Internet and Judicial Perceptions

Private Actors and Public Interest

Shreya Singhal and Constitutionalizing the Internet

Conclusion

References

Governing Speech on the Internet: From the Free Marketplace Policy to a Controlled 'Public Sphere'

Introduction

The Marketplace of Ideas in Shreya Singhal

Recognition of the Limitations of the Marketplace of Ideas and a Move towards Public Sphere

Public Sphere or the Marketplace? : (N)either, but a Dynamics of Control

References