An editorial from 1909 published in The Svadeshabhimani gives us perspectives on a changing judicial order. The excerpt also offers a critical lens to think about morality and constitutional law–themes that are as relevant today as they were then.
This article is part of an ongoing series examining the recently digitized archives of the short-lived yet formative early 20th-century Travancorean newspaper, The Svadeshabhimani.
‘When a government tasked with the wellbeing of its subjects itself violates the laws of justice and brings grief to the subjects, the judges who are tasked with preventing such a situation and resolving disputes between subjects—divinely appointed arbiters—do not belong to a particular class or lineage’.
Thus begins an editorial published on August 1, 1909, in The Svadeshabhimani. It addresses the context of the appointment of Mr. Krishnan Nair as Chief Justice of Travancore, which presumably generated differences of opinion among people of ‘other’ castes (this could be read ‘Brahmins’, who were the keepers and interpreters of the law in caste societies), the editorial focuses on what constitutes this foremost figure of the judiciary. The article is built on the ideas of independence and separation of powers as the foundation of the judicial system. Fundamental to its smooth functioning is the figure of the judge, who is asserted to be a neutral and impartial entity to ensure justice for all subjects. The way in which the editorial, titled ‘ജഡ്ജിയ്ക്ക് ജാതിയില്ല‘ (A Judge Has No Caste), presents this argument is very interesting, especially when we read it through a contemporary lens.
Firstly, what is asserted is the judiciary’s ultimate and fundamental responsibility to stand up for all aggrieved subjects, no matter what social tier they belong to, when the government, which is tasked with their welfare, fails. However, the editorial fails to grapple with the scope of this proclamation, even to the extent that it rhetorically advises the appellant to rethink approaching the appellate court in a scenario where the judge fails to assume this dutiful air of impartiality.
The second point that the editorial raises to make the case for the neutrality of judges follows a different tangent entirely. In the present context of an Indian judicial system that derives its power from the Constitution, the editorial’s insistence on a divine power that guides judges in performing their duty seems alien. Or does it? Rejecting all social and ‘worldly’ allegiances that the individual who assumes a judgeship might have borne, the editors put their trust in ‘a divine power’ that resides within them, guiding their judgments.This is the paradox that comes out in this excerpt that, at the outset, proposes a modern and secular perspective on the judicial system at a time of considerable social and political change in Kerala. On the one hand, it impinges on the need for a secular and modern system of justice, but on the other, it brackets the same in a vocabulary of divine power and religious essence that greatly resembles Brahmanical Hinduism.
Written decades before Independence and the drafting of the Constitution, the paradox that the editorial brings out is yet to be comfortably cast into the buried archives of legal history. This was made evident in a recent address by the former Chief Justice of India, where he admitted to seeking divine inspiration before passing a historic judgment. Instances like these prove that the judicial system in India continues to exist in a tussle between reliance on the court of law as a secular institution and on religious divine temperament.
While the editorial tries to criticise the casteist outlook surrounding the judiciary, its insistence on the power of a divine entity and the judge as a revered figure with godlike powers makes it fall short of its intended aim. It, however, provokes important questions concerning today’s legal system and practices.
Read the full editorial on the Svadeshabhimani digital archive.
