The recent controversy involving actor-filmmaker Kamal Haasan’s film Thug Life and the Karnataka High Court’s response provides insights into how judicial sensitivity to public sentiments interacts with the constitutional right to free speech in India. The incident raises critical questions about the delicate balance between protecting freedom of expression and addressing perceived cultural or communal offenses.
The controversy began when Mr. Kamal Haasan made an off-the-cuff remark suggesting Kannada was “born out of Tamil”. The statement, though historical and linguistic in nature, triggered immediate backlash, protests, and threats of boycotting his film. The matter escalated to the Karnataka High Court when Mr. Kamal Haasan’s production company sought police protection to ensure safe screening amid protests.
Interestingly, rather than primarily addressing the petitioner’s request for protection, the Court extensively emphasized Haasan’s reluctance to apologize and the hurt sentiments of the local populace. Oral observations during the hearing, such as “Are you a historian or linguist?” and “You have no right to hurt sentiments,” drew significant media attention. The Court’s interim order notably criticized Haasan’s non-apologetic clarification, suggesting explicitly that an apology could have diffused tensions.
This approach highlights a subtle yet significant shift in judicial behaviour — away from purely constitutional reasoning toward moral adjudication of public speech. Under Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution, freedom of speech and expression is a guaranteed fundamental right, subject only to the reasonable restrictions enumerated in Article 19(2). These restrictions explicitly include considerations such as public order, decency, morality, and defamation. Crucially, “hurt sentiments” alone do not constitute a legally recognized ground for restricting speech.
The Supreme Court, through landmark judgments such as Shreya Singhal v. Union of India (2015), has clarified that protection of free speech extends even to speech that is unpopular or offensive, provided it does not incite violence or constitute defamation. In Indibily Creative Private Limited v. Government of West Bengal (2019), the Court explicitly outlined the State’s duty to protect lawful speech from violent opposition or censorship attempts by non-state actors. More recently, in Kaushal Kishore v. State of Uttar Pradesh (2023), the Supreme Court reiterated that the restrictions listed in Article 19(2) are exhaustive and cannot be arbitrarily expanded.
However, in the Thug Life case, the High Court’s insistence on an apology seemingly privileged cultural sensitivity over constitutional safeguards. This focus on civility, politeness, and the perceived appropriateness of speech potentially undermines the soundness of constitutionally protected rights. By emphasizing Mr. Kamal Haasan’s tone and demanding expressions of remorse, the judiciary implicitly risks endorsing the “heckler’s veto“—wherein public outrage, rather than legal merit, becomes the determining factor for judicial intervention.
Such judicial sensitivity, though well-intentioned, can inadvertently embolden those who seek to silence voices through intimidation or threats. A similar pattern is visible in past controversies involving scholarly works and public commentary. The withdrawal of Wendy Doniger’s scholarly book The “Hindus” due to “hurt religious sentiments” underlines how easily subjective offense can translate into effective censorship. Similarly, the Supreme Court’s creation of a Special Investigation Team to assess the appropriateness of Professor Ali Khan Mahmudabad’s critical online commentary signals a troubling judicial trend toward policing tone and phrasing rather than strictly adjudicating legality.
The noted Political Scientist Pratap Bhanu Mehta reminds us that regimes of free speech fundamentally rest on trust—trust that individuals can discern, debate, and respond maturely to even uncomfortable or challenging speech. Judicial interventions that prioritize subjective sentiment and civility over constitutional discipline implicitly express a lack of trust in citizens’ maturity. Free speech jurisprudence, Mehta argues, should reflect trust in citizens’ autonomous judgment, reserving censorship strictly for cases clearly outlined within constitutional provisions.
Moving forward, courts must reaffirm their constitutional role as neutral guardians of fundamental rights. They should rigorously adhere to established legal standards for speech restriction, intervening decisively against extra-legal pressures like mob threats or forced apologies. By clearly delineating the boundaries of legitimate legal restraint, courts can protect the vibrant discourse essential to democracy.
The lesson from the Thug Life controversy and similar cases is clear: maintaining constitutional fidelity requires judicial clarity and courage. While sensitivity to societal sentiment is valuable, it cannot supersede the imperative to uphold the fundamental right to free expression. Balancing civility with liberty, courts must trust citizens to navigate speech responsibly, reaffirming free speech as a cornerstone—not a conditional privilege—of India’s democratic framework.