Supreme Court's Bulldozer Verdict Raises Troubling Questions About Its Own Role

The court's loaded language only serves to expose its own inaction and complicity in the devastating consequences of demolitions that have displaced hundreds of thousands of people, disproportionately Muslims, over the past few years.

(Photo: The Quint)

The Supreme Court’s judgment in the so-called “bulldozer justice” case is a damning indictment of executive overreach, state violence, and the abuse of power.

However, there is a tragedy embedded within it: the indictment equally applies to the court itself, and the wider judiciary, which for years stood by as mere spectators to the state of "lawlessness" that it now condemns. A "lawlessness" that, as the court notes, is symbolised by the "chilling sight of bulldozers demolishing homes."  

The court's loaded language only serves to expose its own inaction and complicity in the devastating consequences of demolitions that have displaced hundreds of thousands of people, disproportionately Muslims, over the past few years. Since 2022, reports indicate that more than 1,50,000 homes have been demolished by bulldozer actions, leaving approximately 7,38,000 people homeless. 

Notoriously branded as “bulldozer justice” by right-wing political groups, and in some cases, state officials, these demolitions have been portrayed as a form of extra-judicial retributive punishment against Muslims. 

It was only after urgent applications were filed following the demolition of Rashid Khan’s home in Rajasthan that the court intervened, finally calling a spade a spade. Not only has the court taken a strong stance, albeit delayed, against arbitrary demolitions carried out by state governments under the guise of “illegal encroachments,” but it has also issued detailed “pan-India guidelines” on how such demolitions should be executed.  

The court does not mince words, asserting unequivocally that demolishing homes cannot be justified, even for individuals “convicted of an offence.” Such demolitions not only violate an individual’s “right to shelter,” but, as the court records, also inflict “collective punishment” on the family of the accused. These actions, the court further states, violate the fundamental principles of the “rule of law” and “separation of powers.”

As it rightly points out, executive officials cannot assume the role of judges and demolish the homes of citizens without adhering to the principles of “due process.” So, why did the court take over two years to rule on a batch of petitions challenging arbitrary demolitions? 

Unlike complex constitutional issues such as the constitutionality of the Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019 or the abrogation of Article 370, the demolition case did not necessitate prolonged deliberation. It was the court’s responsibility to demonstrate urgency in addressing the immediate injustice of arbitrary demolitions. Instead, what we witnessed was delay and evasion, subtly allowing the state's arbitrary actions to become a fait accompli - much like what has been a recurring pattern in other politically sensitive cases.  

The Supreme Court’s legitimisation of arbitrary state actions has, in fact, become the new normal in the Indian constitutional landscape, mirroring the “judiciary-state nexus” that American political theorist Murray Rothbard warned about in his highly acclaimed book Anatomy of the State. He argues that courts have historically functioned as mechanisms for legitimising state power. Rather than holding the state accountable, he contends, courts instead reinforce the very authority they are supposed to check. 

Rothbard’s description of the “judiciary-state nexus” also helps explain the futility of the court's logic behind “pan-India guidelines.” As I have recently argued, this futility has already been evident in cases involving lynchings and hate speech. Despite the court’s pan-India guidelines, lynchings and hate speech have continued unabated.  

The real farce of the “guidelines,” however, lies in their timing rather than their substance, raising serious questions about the court's acquiescence to the state's consolidation of power in the first place.

By merely establishing a procedure, the guidelines risk becoming a mechanism for legitimising state power in the case of demolitions as well. In the same book, Rothbard argues that the concept of checks and balances does not actually restrain power but instead serves as a “rubber stamp” for it. As he eloquently writes: “For if a judicial decree of ‘unconstitutional’ serves as a mighty check on government power, then an implicit or explicit verdict of ‘constitutional’ becomes a powerful tool for fostering public acceptance of ever-greater government power.”  

Silent on the past brutality of arbitrary demolitions, the judgment also fails to recognise their communal nature and how they are weaponised against the Muslim community by both the political class and state machinery. This conspicuous failure to confront the reality of “bulldozer justice” is, in itself, a form of erasure inherent in the communal dog whistle that is “bulldozer justice.”

Notably, in the immediate aftermath of demolitions in Haryana's Nuh last year, a Bench of the Punjab and Haryana High Court had dared to ask whether the demolitions targeting buildings mostly owned by Muslims amounted to an "exercise in ethnic cleansing." 

The court's handling of the "bulldozer justice” issue not only reflects the broader culture of judicial deference but also speaks directly to the future of Indian Muslims as the country’s largest religious minority group. The court's inaction on state violence and the marginalisation of Muslims paints a bleak picture of the rule of law and the protection of minority rights in contemporary India.  

The bottom line is that even in cases where the court ultimately upholds the rights of individuals and the rule of law, this comes only after a prolonged silence, during which arbitrary state actions have already been legitimised. The Supreme Court's judgment earlier this year, invalidating electoral bonds, is a case in point.  

These instances and many others from the recent past demonstrate a troubling pattern in which the court unabashedly positions itself in service of validating state actions. The questions raised in this judgment are not merely of legal significance; they strike at the heart of how state power is exercised and highlight why courts should limit, rather than facilitate, its reach in the first place.  

(Burhan Majid teaches legal and constitutional theory at the School of Law, Jamia Hamdard, New Delhi. He tweets at @burhanmajid. Views are personal.)