Free Speech on Eggshells: What the Ali Khan Mahmudabad Case Signals for All of Us

The Supreme Court’s observations in the Ali Khan Mahmudabad case, apart from judging Ali Khan’s speech and expression, have likely also passed judgment on each one of us who teach, write, research, argue, analyse, or speak out.

An invisible asterisk now hovers over our fundamental right to free speech and expression – *provided it is not repugnant to any sentiments; provided the language is “polite, respectful, and neutral”; provided there are no double meanings; provided it is in a language commonly understood; and provided it is context-sensitive.

It’s almost as if a new set of de facto “reasonable restrictions” is stealthily attaching itself to Article 19(1)(a).

Like many, I am genuinely confused about what constitutes reasonable speech anymore. Besieged by self-doubt, I ask myself questions – questions that have no clear or confident answers.

Can I respectfully and reasonably dissent?

What if my reasonable words are not understood, or are misunderstood in ways I did not intend?

What if they are too “hard” to understand or swallow?

How can I be sure not to offend, hurt, or disturb someone with my views?

Will it take just an FIR in a police station to trigger a chain of inquiry, events, and a trial that becomes horribly Kafkaesque?

These are not just my personal questions. They hang so thick in the air that they could well qualify as free-speech FAQs. There is still enough in law – in its word, spirit, judgments, and precedents – to hold on to, but sometimes it feels like sand in our clenched fists: the tighter we hold, the more it slips out.

Selection

A friend asked me if this case will set new precedents. I thought about it and replied: even if Ali Khan is exonerated of all charges, and even if no new case-law precedents are formally set, there are already new “precedents” in motion. Before any case reaches the stage where legal precedent can apply, there is an entire ecosystem – forged by irate publics, police, statutory bodies, commissions, lower courts, and more – where these new de facto standards of free-speech conditionality are already being enforced.

The press release by the present and former Vice-Chancellors, objecting to the remarks and activities of Ali Khan Mahmudabad, is a case in point.

Their statement ignores the endorsement and fulsome praise Ali Khan directs at the Indian Army, and instead alleges that his post “undermines institutional integrity” and “introduces disaffection towards the State.”

It ignores the fact that he is “very happy to see so many right-wing commentators applauding Colonel Sofiya Qureshi,” and instead charges him with “misogyny” and with questioning her “legitimacy and agency.”

It ignores his plea for similar agency for common Muslims, and instead labels this as “destabilizing communal harmony.”

It ignores his parting statement that the “press conference shows that an India, united in its diversity, is not completely dead as an idea,” and instead alleges that Ali is “framing critical national security operations in communal terms.”

Casting a shadow of suspicion over dissenting speech-acts has never been easier. The circle within which speech is permitted to move has been freshly strewn with more eggshells – so walk cautiously, walk gingerly, watch your step. The safest option is to tiptoe.

Freedom of speech so constrained is no longer the freedom to ask, as Arjun did, “O Krishna, seeing my kinsmen standing with a desire to fight, my limbs fail and my mouth becomes dry.” It becomes, instead, a reason to shut up and fall in line.

Language

A word about academic language, which is often pilloried and dismissed as needlessly “too tough.” I am an academic trained in the discipline of political science. Just as I often do not fully understand the language of experts from other fields – a banker, chartered accountant, doctor, or advocate, for instance – it is equally possible that many may not find my words accessible.

When doctors, nutritionists, dermatologists, or investment advisors post on social media, they present their case in a language that convinces the listener or reader of their expertise. I listen to them, and take their advice not because I fully understand every word, but because they sound persuasive. I follow them because they know more than I do in their respective fields.

Why, then, is there a condition placed on a political scientist (or any other academic from any other discipline) that their words ought to be free from expert content?

You may disagree with a proposition, dismiss an argument, or discard an ideology – but the expectation that academics ought to simplify their content, cleanse it of expressive or analytical nuance, or tailor it to the lowest common denominator of understanding is bizarre.

It is not disciplinary or academic privilege that I seek. Nor do I intend to make a special case for academic freedom. Academic freedom and free speech are one and the same. I simply want to state that the academic community is a marketplace of ideas – a place where truth emerges from the clash of competing opinions. And just as the courts must be left free to pursue justice, universities and schools (and their teachers) must be left free to pursue their truths.

Rajshree Chandra teaches political science at Janki Devi Memorial College, Delhi University.

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