The lowest bar for defamation in any modern, liberal legal system is that the court examines the allegedly defamatory content. A Delhi court’s blanket order ignored this minimum requirement on September 6: It ordered that articles alleged to be defamatory by Adani Enterprises Limited (AEL) be taken down, and allowed AEL to identify other links to be taken down. On the basis of this order, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting sent notices to several online publishers and content creators. The court allowed, in effect, “prior restraint”: It restrained the defendants — journalists — from publishing “unverifiable” content about AEL. Fortunately, District Sessions Judge Ashish Agarwal set aside the ex parte interim order for four of the journalists after their appeal. His reasoning was simple and must be heeded more broadly: “The court of the senior civil judge ought to have made observations of which material was defamatory… the judge should have granted the defendants a chance before prima facie declaring that they (the posts) were defamatory.”
This silver lining aside, the September 6 order, its broader context, and the way it was weaponised by the government raise disturbing questions and have a chilling effect on the embattled right to free speech and press freedom under Article 19. As early as 1950, the Supreme Court in Romesh Thappar v State of Madras and Brij Bhushan v State of Delhi reinforced press freedom and declared prior restraint unconstitutional. It has emphasised, on several occasions, that restrictions on free speech must not only be “reasonable” but as narrowly construed as possible. In 2024, it reiterated: “The grant of a pre-trial injunction against the publication of an article may have severe ramifications on the right to freedom of speech”. AEL’s petition did not meet this threshold. Equally disturbing was the alacrity with which the Centre acted. As of September 18, the I&B Ministry ordered the takedown of at least 138 YouTube links, 83 Instagram posts, and sent notices to several online publishers. The action is reminiscent of censorship under Section 66a of the IT Act, which the Supreme Court struck down in Shreya Singhal. It’s somewhat perplexing that the government felt the need to do so, when AEL can, without doubt, afford a team of lawyers to send notices. Whatever its intentions, the Ministry’s actions send a disturbing signal about who and what journalists can’t write about in its view.
It is ironic that the plaintiff demanding prior restraint is not just a mega corporation; it is also a player in India’s media landscape. Large corporations have an increasing stake in the press. As proprietors, they may decide to tell their newsrooms which stories to pursue and which to ignore. They must realise that their activities, businesses, and even rivalries have a bearing on politics, policies, and the lives of ordinary citizens. The journalists and newsrooms that choose to pursue these stories, to hold the powerful to account, are protected by the guarantees that flow from Article 19, guarantees that have been reinforced by a string of court rulings. Prior restraint has no place in a democracy, the earlier corporates-turned-media mavens realise this, the better it will be for the newsroom — even the ones they own.
