IT WAS A COURTROOM LIKE ANY OTHER. Polished wood, disciplined hush, robes in command. The matter was familiar too, a politician, hauled up for an alleged remark about the Indian Army. Then came an observation that had no place in the order, no basis in the statute, no footing in law. A judge leaned in and said, “If you are a true Indian, you would not say this.”
No one needed to be in the room to feel the chill. Since when did the Court become the custodian of citizenship purity? When did our legal system start requiring moral certification for free speech? Because when judges begin to weigh statements on invisible scales of patriotism, they cross from adjudication into an arena they are sworn to stay out of: political morality.
In the ordinary scheme of things, courts determine legality, not loyalty. Their duty is to protect rights, not administer nationalist catechisms. Patriotism is an internal compass, a matter of conscience and affection. Nationalism, when wielded carelessly, demands allegiance and silence. Patriotism allows questions. Nationalism fears them.
India’s history is filled with people punished in their time, celebrated in hindsight. Bal Gangadhar Tilak was sentenced to six years for writing articles urging Indians to rise. Nehru was arrested again and again for calling out imperial arrogance. In the darkest hour of our democracy, Justice H R Khanna (as he was then) reminded us that being a true Indian means protecting the right to dissent, even if you must stand alone. He did so in ADM Jabalpur (1976), knowing the consequences. None of them passed a patriotism test. They simply passed the test of courage.
