In 2012, two young women in Maharashtra were arrested – one for a Facebook post questioning why the city shut down after Bal Thackeray’s death, and the other simply for “liking” it. Others across India were booked for sharing cartoons, cracking jokes, or criticizing politicians online. Their only “crime” was expression.
These arrests, made under Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, created a storm of protest. The law’s language was dangerously vague: what does it mean for speech to be “annoying” or “grossly offensive”? A young law student, Shreya Singhal, challenged the provision in the Supreme Court. In 2015, the Court struck down Section 66A as unconstitutional, warning that vague restrictions on speech create a chilling effect, where people censor themselves out of fear.
The story of Shreya Singhal vs Union of India is worth recalling in light of the recent incident at Kaziranga University. A Naga student’s insensitive remark about a celebrated singer’s death sparked outrage. According to the university’s statement, a group of outsiders rushed into the hostel soon after. In a video that quickly spread online, the student was seen on his knees, hands on his ears, before a crowd. He later issued a public apology, and the university suspended him until further notice. The disciplinary action against the student is clear – but what remains troubling is the quiet acceptance of the mob’s conduct. Are we, knowingly or not, edging towards normalizing mob culture?
This silence is troubling. When a crowd takes justice into its own hands, bypassing due process, it sets a precedent far more dangerous than an offensive comment. For if mobs are allowed to decide the punishment for speech, then where does it stop? Who decides what counts as “offensive,” and who ensures that the response is proportionate?
Free speech in India is not absolute. Article 19(2) of the Constitution allows “reasonable restrictions” in the interests of public order, decency, morality, and security. Yet the important word here is reasonable. The Shreya Singhal judgment showed that restrictions must be clear, narrowly defined, and applied by law – not by arbitrary force.
The Kaziranga University episode highlights the grey zone we still inhabit. On one hand, there is the need for sensitivity in how we speak, especially across cultures and communities. On the other, there is the urgent need to reject mob culture as a means of enforcing accountability. If one student’s speech can be judged through institutional procedure, should not the mob’s conduct be subject to the same standards?
The debate is not about defending offensive speech or excusing insensitivity. It is about how we, as a society, choose to respond. The Constitution gives us a framework, and the courts have clarified its limits. But what happens when public anger overrides the law?
Perhaps there are no easy answers. Yet a democracy is tested less by how it protects popular speech, and more by how it treats speech that offends. The real challenge is finding the balance between sensitivity and freedom, accountability and restraint, without normalizing mob justice.
The question remains open: where do we draw the line, and who gets to draw it?
