The Gujarat Evictions and the Weaponisation of National Security
Kawalpreet Kaur
A harrowing case of mass displacement has unfolded at the Chandola Lake area in Gujarat, where over 8,000 families were evicted overnight without prior notice or any alternative resettlement. Images that circulate on social media show women, children and the elderly lying in the open as their homes lay flattened by the state bulldozers. These residents had lived in the area for over three to four decades. Many possessed voter ID cards, Aadhaar cards, ration cards and other state-issued documents that validated their long-term residence in the area.
Yet, despite this, the Gujarat government reportedly labelled them as ‘foreign nationals’ or ‘Rohingya’ – a term increasingly weaponised in India’s political discourse to stigmatise and erase Muslim slum dwellers.
A voter ID card signifies not only proof of residence but also long-term inclusion on the electoral roll, thereby establishing a statutory right to vote. Similarly, ration cards have been accepted as valid proof of residence in rehabilitation policies, such as those implemented in Delhi for slum dwellers. Ironically, actual Rohingya refugees who are stateless would not possess such identity cards. This glaring contradiction exposes the hollowness of the state’s claims, which appear bent on rendering these families homeless.
The anatomy of bulldozer politics in India
Slum demolitions are not new in India. However, the frequency, scale and impunity with which they are now being carried out reflect a deeper structural rot. India’s constitutional courts – once perceived as protectors of the marginalised – have increasingly turned a blind eye to these acts, or worse, have lent them judicial legitimacy. The shift from earlier jurisprudence, such as Olga Tellis, Shantistar Builders, and Chameli Singh which recognised the right to shelter under Article 21 to today’s punitive characterisation of the urban poor as mere ‘encroachers’ is deeply troubling. These landmark decisions once envisioned a welfare state obliged to resettle displaced persons with dignity. That constitutional vision now lies in disrepair.
Previously, the state was obligated to verify the documentation of slum dwellers and facilitate their rehabilitation, taking into account their prolonged residence at the site. This obligation rooted in both statutory mandates and constitutional principles is now increasingly disregarded. Today, the process of dispossession is fast-tracked under the blanket justification of removing ‘illegal encroachments’. Courts have progressively adopted a narrow reading that frames residents as mere unlawful occupiers of public land. This framing not only excludes them from rights-based protections but also obscures the structural failures of urban planning that give rise to such settlements. In doing so, it absolves the state of its duty to ensure dignified resettlement for the displaced.
Moreover, the targeted deployment of demolition machinery acquired new dimensions in recent years. This form of punitive state action can be traced to 2017, after Adityanath assumed office as chief minister of Uttar Pradesh. Under the rubric of a ‘zero tolerance to crime’ policy, the state began utilising demolitions as an extrajudicial measure to punish individuals accused – often without trial – of criminal conduct. Since then, this practice has proliferated across several Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-ruled states and acquired the popular euphemism of ‘bulldozer justice’, serving as a tool of collective punishment primarily targeting individuals from Muslim community in India – demolishing their homes, businesses and means of livelihood.
A report by Amnesty International highlights how this practice expanded nationwide, with the Indian state openly weaponising bulldozers to dispossess the Muslim community entrenching their political, economic, social and cultural marginalisation in India. The targeted nature of these demolitions is particularly evident in the aftermath of episodes of communal violence or protest movements, wherein the state acts as an aggressor – demolishing residential settlements under the pretext of acting against rioters. The public glorification of bulldozers by state authorities further reveals how this practice has been assimilated into the machinery of governance in India, transforming bulldozers into a symbol of state’s punitive power.
A dangerous precedent in Gujarat
A closer examination of the current situation in Gujarat reveals how a new juridical language has emerged under the guise of ‘national security’ to carve out novel exceptions that seek to legitimise the state’s demolition drives. In the present case, the state of Gujarat submitted before the High Court that the demolition drive was initiated on the basis of ‘sensitive inputs’ purportedly received in the aftermath of the ‘Pahalgam terror attack.’ It further alleged the presence of undocumented ‘Bangladeshi immigrants’ residing in the affected area.
In its order dated 29 April 2025, delivered in response to a writ petition filed by affected residents in the immediate aftermath of the first wave of demolitions, the Gujarat high court declined to grant an interim stay, despite the petitioners’ longstanding residence in the Chandola Lake area. The reasoning operated in the order functions as a legal subterfuge and performs two troubling functions.
First, the court treated the affected residents as mere encroachers on public land, framing the matter as an innocuous instance of eviction. It justified its refusal to grant a stay on the sole ground that the occupation in question was on public land, thereby amounting to an illegality. This reasoning was used to override the foundational principles of natural justice, extinguishing the requirement of prior notice before demolition. It also enabled the Court to entirely sidestep the question of the underlying motivations behind the demolition drive.
Second, the Court failed to engage with the serious implications of the sweeping submissions made by the State. These submissions demanded elementary legal scrutiny which the Court did not undertake. No inquiry was made into the basis upon which the state had determined that 8,000 families – many of whom possessed valid identity documents and had resided in the area for decades – were to be considered ‘foreigners.’ The Court declined to examine the merits of the claims branding residents as ‘Rohingya’ or ‘Bangladeshi.’ It also ignored the conspicuous timing of the State’s declaration of the entire neighbourhood as a security threat. Most critically, the Court did not address the violation of due process guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution. It failed to ask whether demolition based solely on unsubstantiated allegations of foreign nationality could constitute a valid ground for denying constitutional protections. This omission reflects a serious abdication of the Court’s constitutional responsibility. Its silence allowed the State to weaponize the discourse of ‘national security’ to justify mass evictions without legal safeguards.
This ostensibly routine order and eviction set a deeply troubling precedent. It inaugurates a new and dangerous dimension of bulldozer politics where the amorphous and unverified claim of ‘national security’ becomes the basis for suspending the constitutional rights of an entire community. Slum clearance operations, when cloaked in the rhetoric of national security, risk transforming every Muslim neighbourhood into a site of suspicion and rendering every informal settlement vulnerable to arbitrary state action.
The Supreme Court’s silence and the justice paradox
The Supreme Court in its recent judgment laid down procedural safeguards against arbitrary demolitions. While the judgment rightly affirms the illegality of demolitions carried out without adherence to due process—particularly those involving the demolition of properties belonging to individuals merely accused of criminal conduct—it nonetheless falls short of addressing the deeper structural and political underpinnings of such state actions. The judgment’s failure to recognise the disproportionality of these actions specifically targeting poor Muslim communities has emboldened the state to carve out unlawful exceptions under the pretext of ‘national security’, as exemplified in the recent Gujarat demolitions.
Further, by explicitly excluding cases involving ‘public encroachments’ from the ambit of its judgment, the Court effectively delegates to the state the unchecked authority to determine which properties and residences fall within that category. In doing so, it carves an exception where the principle of natural justice no longer applies uniformly, rendering due process selective and contingent on the discretion of the state.
Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben warned that a state of exception becomes most dangerous when it is no longer tied to emergencies but becomes a routine part of governance. In India today, the law is not simply suspended; it is reactivated in selective and strategic ways. The state decides who receives the protection of law and who is subject to its punitive arm. Within this paradigm of ‘bulldozer justice,’ law operates dually, as an instrument of governance and as a vector of violence. The veneer of legality remains intact even as fundamental rights, particularly of minority communities, are steadily eroded.
In the end, this marks a serious erosion of constitutional protections. Arbitrary state actions are being normalized as legitimate governance, even when they result in the destruction of thousands of homes. It is imperative that the courts confront this state-led illegality. If they fail to do so, the rights to life, dignity, and due process may soon become relics of a fading constitutional promise.
Kawalpreet Kaur is a Delhi based lawyer and activist.
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