– SANJIV KHANNA
 Former Chief Justice of India

It is a privilege to address this gathering of the Editors Guild of India. Our institutions—yours and mine—do not often share a stage. However, we do share a common calling. A calling to act as watchdog institutions in the service of the common citizen. In essence, we are both truth seekers, though we follow different paths. 

Therefore topic “Judiciary and Media, shared principles similarities and dissimilarities”. 

Seventy-five years after India’s independence, the question before us is not whether we possess freedom of thought and expression, but whether the freedom to speak—have grown more capacious, more inclusive, and more resilient. Has it widened its arc to accommodate new voices, deeper dissent, and evolving modes of discourse? Has it responded meaningfully to the demands of our times?

At the heart of our democratic conversation stands the right to free speech and expression. It is a right as fundamental as the most important right-the right to life—for freedom to speech and expression enables all other rights. And yet, in all times, it faces renewed challenges—from within and outside, from political and executive overreach, digital distortion, economic vulnerability, and even public fatigue.

The press and the judiciary are two sentinels of our democratic order. Both act as checks on the excesses of executive and legislative power. They also act as a check on social wrongs. Media directly, we in the judiciary in more nuanced manner. 

 Both, when functioning well, speak truth to power—not to provoke, but to preserve and strengthen democracy. After all, a political and social order that works for the people, by the people and of the people necessarily implies robust watchdog institutions.

Our legitimacy stems not from any election, but from public trust and faith. And people’s trust rests on the belief that we are guided by reason, integrity, and impartiality. Like mirrors held up to power, our institutions reflect the state of governance and rights in the country. But if the mirror cracks—through bias, misinformation, or loss of independence—the reflection itself becomes distorted. Rights are the casualties. Hence, both our professions require a steadfast commitment to neutrality, fairness and objectivity. We must erect guardrails against prejudice creeping into our institutional structure. Bias can creep in quietly—but can be judged in framing, in language, in selection of views. 

It can be gathered in projection of news and opinion in the judgment. For both of us, the discipline lies in recognising and resisting bias and prejudices. 

We are also, by design, diverse and polyvocal. In the courtroom, divergent views find expression through dissents, over-ruling and concurrences. In the newsroom, it appears in diverse editorial views and reportage. This plurality is not a flaw—it is foundational to the character of our institutions. No institution tasked with protecting liberty can afford a single, unitary voice. If that becomes the case, nothing will separate rationality from propaganda. Propaganda is done to plant ideas and manufacture consent.  Propoganda has tendency to rupture democracy.

Judgments have impact on the society. News reporting can change the way we think and behave.  We underestimate the impact of news.  News coverage is not benign source of facts, but subconsciously meddles with our lives.  We may not realize we are constantly simmering in a soup of news. 

This is also where I would like to highlight the difference between toxic news and healthy news.  While there is no rigid or agreed-upon definition for it, the word toxic refers to the idea of pollution.  Water is toxic if it has a critical oxygen deficit created by pollution. In a democratic society, the news or media reporting is healthy only when the reporting is not polluted by prejudice, bias, and polarisation. 

A healthy democracy needs news media which ensures effective traffic of ideas amongst participants. It is more effective when the participants sift through multiple positions and identify the ideal aspect or solution to the issues they face. Discussion must inculcate in the viewers the capacity to listen, understand and negotiate each other’s point of view.  It must make use of language which is respectful and not denigrating or threatening.  It should not pour fuel onto sites of active conflict, making it greater. It must be mindful of the dignity of its citizens’ identity. Over time, constant toxic exposure can narrow minds and create echo chambers where the same views are repeated and reinforced. Minds become narrower, cliques form of mutually and in long-term reinforcing viewpoints. Consequently, when toxicity prevails democracy loses its fidelity and ability to govern with legitimacy.

And finally, both the judiciary and the press serve as conduits for public grievances. We listen and act differently—you through stories and articles, we through pleadings, oral arguments and written judgments— but our purpose converges: to protect the voice of truth, be fair and objective. When we do so, we uphold freedom and liberty.

Facts and opinions are not the same. This distinction matters as much for the media as it does for the judiciary. In court, we seek the truth, apply the law, and deliver a judgment. If the facts are false or incomplete, the decision will be flawed. Falsehoods and half-truths lead to wrong outcomes. Responsible reporting tells the full story without inflaming passions or narrowing public debate. It presents a range of perspectives, avoids hidden agendas, and resists the subtle art of framing or priming.

Judges reach balanced conclusions by weighing all sides before speaking through reasoned judgments. Journalism should strive for the same discipline and standard: accuracy and fairness are non-negotiable. Truth, perspective, and critical thinking are the shared ground on which justice and a free press stand together.

While one will agree that they are not absolute or universal truths, most of the time they are relative truths shaped by language, culture and concept and that relativism has merit, but it should be based upon firm foundation.  This foundation may represent relative ideas but never with the intent of mind manipulation or sensational journalism.  News reporting will be fair when it tells story it tries to accommodate different viewpoints.  It should not be to promote narrow viewpoints and to inflame.  It should not have an agenda setting.  The media should not engage in framing and primming , i.e., taking up certain issues and influence the public, and to influence the criteria by which the public evaluates particular matters.    

Media has to engage in dialogue and critical thinking.

Despite these shared burdens, there remains a crucial distinction between our institutions. The media is an institution of opinion.

Judges are constitutional functionaries, we respond to the facts on record, interpret the law, and speak through our judgments. We do not choose our cases, nor do we comment on them outside the courtroom. We cannot and must not editorialise. Any constitutional functionary who chooses to do so risks betraying the oath of judicial life. 

The media, rightly, exercises greater speech freedom. It may raise any issue, adopt any editorial stance, and frame narratives. 

Today, there is much debate about regulation, if not control of the media. But to truly grasp the contours of the censorship discussion, we must first turn to history, to the origins of Article 19 and its evolving meaning. Barely a year after our Constitution came into force, the republic confronted its first major constitutional reckoning. In Romesh Thapar and Brij Bhushan, Supreme Court firmly expressed its view that there could not be any kind of restrictions on the freedom of speech and expression other than those mentioned in Article 19(2) and thereby made it clear that there could not be any interference with that freedom in the name of public interest. 

For the government then, however, the implications were somewhat unsettling. With the wounds of Partition still raw, and the memory of communal unrest fresh, there was growing concern that speech—especially provocative or inflammatory expression—could destabilize the social fabric of India. In response, the government introduced the First Amendment to expand the grounds of permissible restrictions under Article 19(2).

This amendment added “public order,” “friendly relations with foreign states,” and “incitement to an offence” as new grounds for limiting speech. On the face of it, this was a regressive turn—it enlarged the State’s power to censor and control. But it also introduced a critical safeguard: the requirement that such restrictions be “reasonable.” This single term, hard-won and bitterly debated, became the bridge for constitutional accountability.

The passage of the First Amendment sparked significant political resistance. More than 75 Members of Parliament demanded a free vote on the issue. Ministers began to insist that the phrase “reasonable restrictions” be inserted to preserve judicial oversight. Without it, many believed that the amendment threatened to strip Part III of the Constitution of its teeth, granting Parliament unchecked authority to curtail fundamental rights. A contemporary news report described how the Cabinet had “decided to meet the mounting criticism”^[1] by rendering the new restrictions justiciable—subject to judicial review, and not beyond constitutional scrutiny.

The judiciary, for its part, took this mandate seriously. In later cases like Express Newspapers and Sakal Papers, the Supreme Court built out the meaning of “reasonable,” insisting that any restriction must be fair, just, non-arbitrary, and proportionate to the objective pursued. Over time, this matured into a constitutional doctrine: reasonableness requires that a restriction (i) serve a legitimate aim, (ii) be narrowly tailored to that aim, and (iii) not disproportionately infringe on the right’s core.

The “reasonable restrictions” permitted under Article 19(2) are neither rigid nor formulaic; they are inherently contextual and must evolve with time. Their elasticity is deliberately crafted to accommodate the tensions and contradictions of a plural, democratic society. And this very flexibility demands constitutional vigilance. Courts must guard against the temptation to censor merely because speech is uncomfortable, inconvenient, or unsettling to some. 

After all, as Justice Brandeis famously wrote in Whitney v. California, “freedom to think as you will and to speak as you think are means indispensable to the discovery and spread of political truth… the greatest menace to freedom is an inert people… public discussion is a political duty.” These words echo with undiminished urgency in our times. 

Indian Supreme Court, in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, laid down a foundational framework that remains essential to recall. The Court made clear that so long as speech remains within the realms of discussion or even spirited advocacy—no matter how unorthodox, irreverent, or unsettling—it lies at the core of Article 19(1)(a) and must be constitutionally protected. Only when expression graduates into incitement—posing a tangible threat to public order or another legitimate interest—do the restrictions under Article 19(2) properly arise. In doing so, the Court underscored that the Constitution does not grant the State, or indeed the judiciary, a licence to become arbiters of taste, satire, or social decorum. The responsibility of constitutional adjudication lies not in endorsing majoritarian morality, but in upholding the dignity and autonomy of the speaker—even when the words may offend, provoke, or disturb.

Freedom of speech is an autonomy and dignity right, grounded in the individual’s capacity to think, choose, and speak freely. Its protection is not only essential to personal self-fulfilment, but also to our collective search for truth in a democratic society.  This epistemic utility of free speech is captured well by the elucidation in S Rangarajan v. P Jagjivan Ram Rangarajan^[2]: 

“Democracy is government by the people via open discussion. The democratic form of government itself demands from its citizens an active and intelligent participation … public discussion with people’s participation is a basic feature and a rational process of democracy which distinguishes it from all other forms of Government.”

 Article 19(1)(g) of the Constitution of India guarantees the freedom to practise any profession or to carry on any occupation, trade, or business. For the media, this encompasses the freedom to raise capital, publish across platforms, and grow independently. Restricting this freedom weakens both our democracy and our economy. The media is often the first to uncover errors in public functioning. If we silence that voice, we lose a key instrument of democratic correction. 

Nearly a century back in 1919, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes’ dissenting opinion in defence of free speech principles coined the phrase “marketplace of ideas”.  He had argued that the best rule of truth is the power of thought to get itself accepted in the competition of the market.  He rejected the test of clear and present danger to curtail the right to thought and speech, with the expression that danger must be both clear and imminent and not merely a potential or abstract threat.  

A little earlier, in late 19th-century America, two rival newspapers— New York World and  New York Journal—engaged in a fierce circulation battle. In their race for readership, they pioneered what would come to be known as yellow journalism: a style marked by exaggerated headlines, emotional appeals, and half-truths masquerading as reporting. The term itself arose from the “Yellow Kid,” a cartoon used to lure readers, but it soon came to symbolise a deeper decay: the prioritisation of attention over accuracy. The lesson from that era remains relevant today. In a time when speed trumps substance and virality often outruns verification, we must guard against the new avatars of yellow journalism—whether they wear the garb of ideology, entertainment, or algorithmic amplification. A democracy that loses its fidelity to facts begins to lose its ability to govern with legitimacy.

The rise of social media, which allows users to have access to news and varied opinions, obviously has advantages. It does not require substantial investment and there is ease of uploading and access. 

  A majority of people today receive news selected by algorithms based on either their past interests or what the algorithm thinks someone like that person would want to see. 

Unlike the print media where the user reads, assimilates and reasons, social media thrives on speed of information dissemination and the magic bullet theory, i.e., short bullets of information. This has its consequences. 

Firstly, the combative capacity of the user gets diminished.  Thinking in-depth requires effort and energy.  Social media is attractive and many or most of the times it does not require the combative capacity and time.  Today, the youngsters do not have the sustainable ability to think about complex topics. Its consequences are that the best ideas do not rise to the top.  The ideas that carry the majority support get the upvotes based on familiarity or position, emotional silence and so on.  

Secondly, controversial topics often result in an exchange of heated comments.  No topic is truly safe- we witness flame wars every evening on our TV sets. Acrimonious exchanges online do not result in bridges being built, instead, they tend to intensify the anger and vitriol and the increase abusive and intolerant position among the participants.  For a community to be cohesive, we as citizens should be able to discuss issues such as politics, religion, and gender without combative interactions by discussing them calmly.  

The third consequence is that quantity becomes its own quality.  The disparity in positions creates a sense of being hounded by popular opinion, and eventually results in users with minority views exiting the community. Populist views become the norm and shake the people’s behaviour and thinking.  There is a spiral of silence as those having minority views are less likely to speak out due to fear or social isolation.  Individuals tend to rely upon self-selected information consistent with their prior beliefs, which get exaggerated into personalised fields.  

The judiciary and the press are two distinct organs, but our health is interdependent. The Constitution gives each of us a separate role. Neither must usurp the other. Judges must remain within the four corners of their brief. The media must remain free, but fair. Our institutions do not need applause; we need credibility. That comes not from always being right, but from always being principled.

To end, I would like to borrow and tweak a few words from Rabindranath Tagore. The minds and souls of the journalists and judges must always remain free. We must operate without fear, favour, bias or prejudice. For it is when our institutions are free and fearless will our nation’s head be held high.      

Thank you. Jai Hind.

[1] ‘Constitution Amendment Bill to Be Modified: Bid to Meet Criticism’, Times of India, 25 May 1951, Bombay, p. 1.

[2] (1989) 2 SCC 574 [36].