Last week, the Supreme Court passed what may well be one of its most scathing orders in recent memory, wherein the Court publicly reprimanded a sitting High Court judge by name, accusing him of making a “mockery of justice”. The Bench, comprising Justices J B Pardiwala and R Mahadevan, further described the High Court order under challenge as one of the “worst and most erroneous” decisions they had encountered in their tenures. In and of itself, this case may have remained a matter of routine appellate criticism. But what makes this case stand out is the shift in tone — from a reasoned disagreement to a categorical denunciation of the judge, his legal acumen, and his future role on the bench.
The facts are not novel. The case pertained to a private commercial dispute over payment dues for goods supplied. The complainant/seller had initiated criminal proceedings alleging breach of trust. The Magistrate, “erroneously” as per the Supreme Court, took cognisance of the complaint. When challenged before the High Court, the judge upheld the Magistrate’s decision. The SC’s response, however, went far beyond a corrective appellate ruling. It tore into both the Magistrate and the High Court judge. The former was accused of “complete ignorance of law” — a statement which, taken literally, should raise institutional alarms. However, what followed was far more troubling: The High Court judge was not only rebuked in open court, but the SC went on to direct that he be barred from hearing criminal matters until his retirement and be assigned to a senior judge on a Division Bench — the Chief Justice of India later rolled back this order — seemingly as a punishment.
It is not uncommon for the SC to step in when lower court rulings are problematic. There is precedent for the Court taking exception to scandalous remarks, gendered or communal stereotypes in judgments, and even the use of improper or outdated legal language. However, this instance is not about language or tone but hits directly on the content of judicial reasoning. And that is where the line between appellate correction and institutional humiliation begins to blur.
Every judge gets the law wrong at some point — that is the basis of an appellate system. Every lawyer, too, has lost cases because a lower court or the HC misapplied legal precedent. But to infer from a misreading of the distinction between cheating and criminal breach of trust that a judge is unfit to hear criminal matters is a leap — one that is institutionally damaging. It implies that judicial error is evidence of incapacity. And that has implications far beyond this case.
Judges, especially in trial courts and most HCs, do not have the luxury of trained judicial clerks or institutional research wings backing them. With increasing caseloads and minimal systemic support, judgments are often delivered under pressure. Unlike the SC, which has weeks to draft a decision, supported by a regiment of highly qualified, trained law clerks, HC judges hear dozens of matters a day and deliver verdicts in real time. To call such a judge legally ignorant, without acknowledging this systemic reality, is unfair, and worse, unwise.
Equally problematic is the direction that the judge be removed from all criminal matters till his retirement. This is not merely administrative advice. It has a binding, disciplinary overtone, and yet, the power to decide judicial rosters vests solely with the Chief Justice of the concerned High Court. That position of law was made clear in the State of Rajasthan vs Prakash Chand (1998), where a larger bench of the SC itself acknowledged the centrality of the Chief Justice as the master of the roster, and hence, the bench led by Justice Pardiwala ought to follow the binding precedent. This direction, therefore, not only ignores the internal autonomy of HC but also potentially transgresses a constitutional boundary.
The broader issue, though, is one of tone and consequence. When the Supreme Court says, “we are not surprised” that a Magistrate got the law wrong, it is not just addressing one officer of the court. It is casting a shadow on the entire lower judiciary. That has ripple effects. Trial courts are often the first and only interface the common person has with the judiciary. To erode public faith in these institutions through public castigation is to deepen a crisis of trust already brewing in the justice delivery system.
Judicial independence is a two-way street. If judges are to be fearless in the discharge of their duties, they must also be protected from institutional shaming. The fear is not about accountability, but ensuring that accountability does not become retribution. There must be space for appellate courts to correct, even criticise. But when criticism turns into career-altering sanction, delivered in open court without procedural safeguards, it creates a culture of fear, not reform.
One cannot ignore the optics either. In a country where executive overreach is a constant concern, the judiciary must speak in a voice that is not only constitutionally correct but also institutionally coherent. The SC is not just the apex court. It is regarded to be the voice of final authority by the public. That voice, when exercised, carries weight far beyond the confines of the case. And that is why it must be wielded with temperance, not temper. The ripple effects of this order are already being felt. In an unprecedented move, at least thirteen sitting judges of the Allahabad HC reportedly wrote to the Chief Justice of the HC requesting a full court hearing to collectively respond to the Supreme Court’s direction, not because they defend judicial error, but because they recognise the precedent this sets. It is rare, and deeply telling, when HC judges rise in solidarity, not for an individual, but for the dignity of the institution.
In response, Chief Justice of India B R Gavai intervened, prompting the SC to delete the most controversial paragraphs and recall the directive removing the judge from criminal matters. In acknowledging that the HC Chief Justice is the sole authority over rosters, the apex court quietly recalibrated its message. Ultimately, this judgment may be remembered less for its legal impact than for its institutional aftershocks. Judges are not above critique. But the manner of that critique must reflect the values of the institution they serve. Judicial dignity does not lie in never being questioned — it lies in being questioned with care.
The writer is a practising advocate in Delhi and leads Project Saathi. Views are personal
