Political judgement

For UP’s chief minister, justice is a selective weapon

Alittle over a year in power, Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Adityanath has put his unique stamp on the state’s law and order situation by starting the process of withdrawing all 131 cases relating to the communal riots in Muzaffarnagar and Shamli in 2013 in which 62 people died, 93 were injured and thousands displaced. These cases involve 13 pertaining to murder, 11 to attempt to murder, and 16 to promoting enmity on religious grounds, among others involving “heinous” crimes. The cases are against a former Union minister and MP from Muzaffarnagar, Sanjeev Balyan and other MPs, MLAs and senior political leaders. The reasons forwarded by the state justice department for withdrawing these cases are curious and underline the notion that due process does not figure high in the priorities of the state government. In January, for instance, the state justice department had written a letter to two district magistrates suggesting, among other things, that the cases could be withdrawn in public interest.

It is increasingly clear that this concern pertains to a narrow interpretation of the term “public interest”. Indeed, the issue becomes fraught when it is evident that, as Mr Balyan told a media outlet, all the accused are Hindus and the bulk of the victims (40 among the 62 dead) were Muslims. The ruling Bharatiya Janata Party has also claimed that the cases being withdrawn were only the false ones linked to the riots. No one in the party has explained the basis for this opinion, nor how political judgement can prevail over cases that are sub judice. Although it is true that the public prosecutor appointed by the government can petition the court to quash a case on such grounds, it is the court’s prerogative to make that decision. In arbitrarily overriding judicial prerogative, Mr Adityanath is clearly signalling that the law is a selective tool of justice in Uttar Pradesh, just as he did in January this year when his government passed a law that withdrew all the cases against him.

This amorality is of a piece with the chief minister’s singular approach to ensuring law and order in his state, in which his chosen weapon for retaliation against criminals, he proudly informed the media, is the police encounter. It is perhaps unremarkable that the chief minister admires the extremist solution of “encounter killings”, with all its pejorative connotations of police brutality and absence of due process, and considers it acceptable to impose his agenda on the judicial system. Personal militias and kangaroo court justice may work within the confines of a religious order, governing a multicultural polity in India’s most populous state based on the rule of law and the principles of democracy demands a higher degree of ethics. True, Uttar Pradesh has rarely been a haven of law and order and few chief ministers have treated the police force and the courts with respect. But Mr Adityanath’s accession was touted as ushering in a new era. It has, but probably not in the way the people of Uttar Pradesh would have bargained for.