By Anurag

Copyright opindia

On 6th October, a shoe flew towards the Chief Justice of India, BR Gavai. It was not just an act of courtroom fury but a metaphor for how the age of social media has turned judicial speech into a public spectacle.

What happened was, the CJI gave an off-the-cuff advice to a petitioner who had approached the apex court to give directions for the restoration of a Bhagwan Vishnu idol. Instead of just asking the petitioner to approach the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) as it was under its domain to restore such ancient monuments or idols, the CJI went on to pass an unwarranted comment and sarcastically asked the petitioner to “Go and ask the deity himself to do something. Go and pray.”

His oral comments, which obviously did not make it to the judgment, sparked outrage beyond the courtroom. Within hours, social media was filled with criticism questioning the CJI, a Buddhist, about his intentions behind the comments. The outrage continued to grow to the point that the CJI himself tried to alleviate the situation by claiming that his comments were misunderstood. Solicitor General Tushar Mehta also commented on the social media outrage and, in a sense, called it an unnecessary attack on the judiciary. Retired judges, lawyers, so-called intellectuals, activists, everyone wanted to take a bite of the piece of cake the CJI served on a silver platter. Some favoured him, some went against him.

The situation became tense and moved away from the CJI’s comments when a 71-year-old lawyer, Rakesh Kishor, hurt by the top judge’s comments, hurled a shoe at him during open court. The CJI escaped narrowly from the attack. When Kishor was being taken away by the security personnel, he reportedly shouted, “India will not tolerate insult of Sanatan Dharma,” in Hindi.

The attack on the CJI was condemned by politicians, judges, former judges, lawyers, and others. In fact, Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself came forward to condemn the attack. Some voices, however, criticised Justice Gavai and pointed out that the outrage Kishor demonstrated was the result of the CJI’s own doing.

Among them was former Supreme Court Judge Markandey Katju, historically a liberal judge himself, who condemned the attack but categorically blamed the CJI for “inviting” the attack on himself. Katju’s remark captured an uncomfortable truth. Oral observations, once forgotten as courtroom chatter, now linger like viral hashtags. The comments made by judges, no matter whether of the Supreme Court, High Courts, or even the District Courts, are dissected, politicised, criticised, commented on, and immortalised online. What has changed is not merely judicial tone but public memory.

The missing serenity of the courtroom

In an op-ed, Justice Katju recalled the quiet atmosphere of the British High Court where, as he put it, judges “rarely spoke and allowed lawyers to make their case in low tones.” In contrast, even the Supreme Court has evolved into theatres of constant dialogues. Judges deliver lectures, rhetorical questions are raised, and, at times, sarcasm and satire find their place masquerading as “courtroom wit.” Katju quoted the Attorney General and Lord Chancellor of England, Francis Bacon’s warning, “A much-talking judge is like an ill-tuned cymbal.”

If we look at the history of courtrooms in India, any oral comments made by judges hardly made headlines before the era of live streaming and social media feeds. Courtroom exchanges often evaporated once the day ended. There used to be no instant amplification, no meme culture to replay a judge’s jest or jibe. Courtrooms used to be part of a closed universe which only a few had access to. They used to be a sanctum where judicial language could be lofty, personal, or even political without consequence. Not anymore.

When social media entered the courtroom

The privacy that judges enjoyed has vanished. Live reporting from courtrooms means that every pause, smile, or quip now lives online within seconds. Judges who once spoke freely without bothering about public scrutiny now find their words constantly under the microscope. Take the instance of the 2022 hearing of former Bharatiya Janata Party spokesperson Nupur Sharma, who had approached the apex court seeking the clubbing of multiple FIRs filed against her after a propagandist masquerading as a fact-checker, Alt News’ Mohammed Zubair, made an intentionally trimmed video of Sharma viral, making her the prime target of Islamists worldwide.

While hearing Sharma’s plea, Justice Surya Kant’s bench rebuked her and declared she was “single-handedly responsible for what is happening in the country” and that her “loose tongue has set the entire nation on fire.” Those comments were uncalled for and painted another direct target on her back. Within hours, the remarks dominated news cycles. Within days, the judges themselves became targets of criticism on social media. So much so, Justice JB Pardiwala, irked by the scrutiny judges were facing online, later warned that online commentary had evolved into “dangerous scenario” and urged regulation of judicial reporting.

It was an extraordinary moment, the judiciary lamenting the same transparency it had long demanded of others. The microphone that once amplified judges’ moral authority now amplifies their missteps.

Selective outrage and changing norms

Public reaction to oral observations cannot be expected to be ideologically neutral. When judges speak against those disliked by the liberal ecosystem, it is framed as moral courage. When they speak in ways that discomfort the ecosystem, it becomes “improper conduct.” However, there is another side that has developed over time, especially after the boom in social media platforms. Now, the comments are criticised or praised according to ideology. There is no single commentator but hundreds of thousands out there who are running their fingers on mobile screens or keyboards to express their views and be part of the larger ecosystem of their side.

Another such example is the Supreme Court’s oral observation during the farmers’ protest hearing. The bench made strong remarks criticising the Central Government’s handling of the agitation. While the left-leaning commentariat celebrated it as “speaking truth to power”, social media replayed those very statements and prompted questions about judicial overreach. The left-leaning “intellectuals” do not speak to the masses.

The masses, on the other hand, form their own views based on the available information. Since they have started questioning judges and criticising the overreach that comes with oral observations, the same left-leaning ecosystem started spewing a few voices that argued that oral remarks should not be taken seriously or criticised the media trial based on such observations. The principle had changed, not the practice.

Judicial speeches are now praised or condemned depending on the ideology of the commentator. While one person may like it and praise the judge, the other side may dislike it and call for the judge’s impeachment, or even hurl a shoe at him in the courtroom.

The anti-Hindu quips that went unchallenged

For years, oral observations that mocked or dismissed Hindu faith barely registered in mainstream discourse. For example, in 2008, Delhi High Court Judge Sanjay Kaul dismissed obscenity cases against painter MF Husain. He rebuked the outrage against nude depictions of Hindu goddesses. He said, “It is unfortunate that India’s new puritanism is being carried out in the name of culture,” and derided the Hindu protesters as “ignorant people vandalising art.”

In 2022, when Justice Surya Kant’s remarks against Nupur Sharma were met with protests, many of the same voices who had celebrated Kaul’s liberalism denounced public criticism of judges as an “attack on the judiciary.”

The double standard runs deeper. The Supreme Court, in 2003 and 2004, while hearing riot-related cases, delivered some of the harshest oral censures ever directed at an elected government. Chief Justice VN Khare infamously said, “I have no faith left in the prosecution and the Gujarat government to bring to book the guilty.” A year later, Justices Doraiswamy Raju and Arijit Pasayat compared the same administration to “modern-day Neros who were looking elsewhere while innocent women and children were burning.”

Back then, those comments were applauded by the liberal press as moral bravery. However, the other side found virtually no voice in the mainstream media. Today, the same liberal press decries even mild criticism of judicial behaviour as “dangerous rhetoric.” The yardstick changes with the politics of the moment.

The turnaround – how liberal circles went from praise to caution

For years, such oral remarks were not only ignored but often weaponised to build narratives that painted Hindus as intolerant and regressive. Each judicial aside that mocked Hindu belief was recycled across mainstream and social media to legitimise the “Hindu fundamentalist” trope. In those moments, oral observations were not just tolerated but celebrated, quoted, editorialised, and amplified by the same liberal intelligentsia that now pleads for restraint.

However, as the tide of digital opinion turned and social media began holding the judiciary accountable, the same ecosystem suddenly discovered the virtue of silence. What was once used to vilify the majority is now defended as “non-binding discourse.” The call for judges to “speak cautiously” arrived only when the scrutiny did not suit their narrative. The transformation from celebrating anti-Hindu judicial quips to demanding judicial mindfulness underlines not reflection, but fear of losing control over the story.

The age of ‘divine and bovine’ interventions

Even outside the Bench, retired judges have contributed to this moral theatre. Former Justice Rohinton F Nariman, while speaking at a public event, mocked the idea of divine guidance in the Ram Janmabhoomi judgment and said, “Whether divine or bovine intervention, such remarks violate the oath to the Constitution.” The choice of words, placing the cow, a sacred Hindu symbol, beside the divine, was not lost on his audience. Hindu groups called it a sneer; liberals hailed it as “rationalism.”

Nariman had earlier warned against Hindu petitions seeking the reclamation of temples under mosques and described them as “hydra-heads popping up all over the country.” Again, there were two ways to see the comments. While liberals hailed it and saw nothing wrong with a former judge likening Hindu plaintiffs to mythical monsters, the Hindu side outraged. But the fact is, judges, even the former ones, still escape without facing any legal action for such outrageous comments against Hindus, Sanatan Dharma and Hindu practices.

The smiling silence of Justice Joseph

Then came the episode of Justice KM Joseph, whose smile became a symbol of selective empathy. During the 2023 hearing on hate speech, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta cited instances of explicit hate against Hindus, including a DMK leader’s call to “butcher Brahmins.” Justice Joseph reportedly responded with a smile, quipping about Periyar’s historical crusade against caste.

The moment, captured by court reporters, enraged Hindu groups who saw it as a judicial smirk at calls for genocide. If such levity had greeted hate speech against any minority, there would have been editorials, candle marches, and televised indignation. Instead, there was silence, broken only by a few right-leaning outlets that dared to ask whether some judges had normalised prejudice when the victims were Hindus.

The new accountability, the new anxiety

The modern courtroom operates under the surveillance of millions. Judges, while keeping up with their habit of not pausing before speaking, are aware that a sentence uttered in jest may outlive their career. CJI Gavai himself admitted to warning a colleague to “speak cautiously” and keep it to themselves recently as the observation might cause social media unrest and criticism.

CJI BR Gavai: My brother Justice Vinod Chandran had something to say. But in the age of social media we don’t know how it will be reported. So I told him to let it be for my ears only. #SupremeCourt pic.twitter.com/wsPS2d6QP6— Bar and Bench (@barandbench) October 7, 2025

Transparency has, paradoxically, become both a shield and a sword. It forces accountability but breeds caution, sometimes bordering on fear. The judiciary that once commanded reverence through mystique now navigates the same public opinion it used to rise above. Judges do read social media and newspapers. They face the heat while hiding their identities on the internet, and it is affecting them, but not to the point that they at least start thinking of the consequences of their words. Old habits take time to fade away, someone has rightly said.

When hypocrisy meets hashtags

The liberal establishment’s discomfort is not with the scrutiny itself but with losing monopoly over it. For decades, their narratives framed judicial speech. Progressive judges were “voices of conscience,” conservative ones were “activists in robes.” The rise of platforms like OpIndia and others has shattered that monopoly. Every courtroom quip can now be replayed, reframed, and re-evaluated by audiences outside Lutyens’ drawing rooms.

When the shoe was thrown at the Chief Justice, outrage was universal, but so was introspection. Katju’s comment that “he invited this” was not cruelty; it was a mirror. Judges who once spoke without restraint now face the same unforgiving glare they once directed at others. The internet has no hierarchy, only memory.

In the end, the issue is not whether judges should speak at all, but whether they should mistake performance for persuasion. Oral observations were once theatre without spectators; now they are live broadcasts shaping public trust. The only remedy is restraint, applied uniformly, not selectively.

Those who once cheered the Supreme Court for “speaking truth to power” must also accept criticism when the power spoken to is their own ideology. The same transparency that once humbled governments is now humbling judges, and perhaps that is the balance democracy always needed.

If the courts are temples of justice, their sanctity lies not in silence but in discipline, the discipline to remember that in an era where every word trends, even the wisest tongue can set the court ablaze.