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“The significance of the statement lies not merely in its religious content but in the breadth of the allegation asserted and the institutional stature previously occupied by its speaker.”
The Communal Angle Must be Investigated Considering an Extraordinary Allegation, and the Discipline of Evidence : Examining a Former CBICentral Bureau of InvestigationIndia’s premier investigative agency, responsible for a wide range of criminal and national security-related cases. Chief’s Reported but Baseless Claim Concerning Friday Sermons in Indian Mosques
Now that the dust over the three year old disgraceful allegation by a former chief of the country’s premier investigation agency has settled, I see fit to address the nation, through this write-up. Because it is critical to do so. Because when not true, it means an official positioned to prevent the nation’s enemies from harming it, was quietly himself working to sow dissension among the ranks of its citizens, create disharmony and suspicion, craft the “us” versus “others” narrative : playing antinational instead of stopping them. If so, a terrible thing, even a treasonous thing. I proceed to interrogate the matter.
We do not pronounce upon the criminal liability of Rao. References to his reported statement are conditional upon authentication of the complete recording and verification of the translation. No inference concerning the conduct of the Central Bureau of Investigation, investigations undertaken during Rao’s tenure, or the subjective motives of the speaker is intended unless independently established by evidence. The argument concerns the constitutional, evidentiary and institutional implications of a publicly attributed statement and the standards by which such expression should be evaluated.
A statement attributed in a then publicly circulated recording to Rao, former interim Director of the Central Bureau of Investigation, now the critical clip seen again in a post, alleges, in substance, that Hindus are abused in mosques across India during Friday prayers. The significance of the statement lies not merely in its religious content but in the breadth of the allegation asserted and the institutional stature previously occupied by its speaker.
We do not proceed on the assumption that an offensive or communally charged statement automatically constitutes a criminal offence. Constitutional jurisprudence requires considerably greater analytical discipline. Decisions such as Ramesh v. Union of India, (1988) 1 SCC 668; Bilal Ahmed Kaloo v. State of A.P., (1997) 7 SCC 431; Manzar Sayeed Khan v. State of Maharashtra, (2007) 5 SCC 1; Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan v. Union of India, (2014) 11 SCC 477; Amish Devgan v. Union of India, (2021) 1 SCC 1; and Patricia Mukhim v. State of Meghalaya, (2021) 15 SCC 35 establish that context, intention, content, audience, impact and the relationship between the communities concerned must be examined before speech can attract penal consequences.
Measured against those standards, the reported statement raises a different and important constitutional question: what are the consequences when a former head of a premier investigative institution publicly advances an extraordinarily broad allegation concerning the religious practices of an entire community without simultaneously identifying an evidentiary basis for that allegation?
The appropriate response is neither censorship nor reciprocal communal rhetoric. It is evidence. If the allegation is true, it is capable of proof and the law must apply without regard to the religion of the offender. If it cannot be substantiated, the conversion of isolated allegation, assumption or anecdote into a nationwide assertion concerning a religious community presents precisely the danger of group stereotyping and social alienation identified in the Supreme Court’s hate-speech jurisprudence.
A publicly circulated recording attributed to M. Nageswara Rao, a former interim Director of the Central Bureau of Investigation, contains a statement which has been translated and reported, in substance, as asserting that Hindus are abused in mosques during Friday prayers throughout India.
The precise Telugu words, their complete context, the authenticity and completeness of the recording, and the accuracy of any English translation should be independently established before legal conclusions are attached to the statement. This qualification is important. Constitutional analysis cannot itself reproduce the evidentiary vice it seeks to criticise.
The present analysis therefore proceeds upon a deliberately limited premise: if the recording is authentic, if the translation substantially conveys what was said, and if the statement was intended as an assertion of fact rather than rhetorical hyperbole, what follows?
The first consequence is evidentiary rather than ideological.
An allegation that a particular preacher delivered an anti-Hindu sermon at an identified mosque on an identified date is capable of investigation. An allegation that such conduct occurs generally in mosques across India every Friday is a proposition of an entirely different magnitude. The breadth of the allegation necessarily enlarges the evidentiary burden required to make it credible in public discourse.
The constitutional problem is therefore not that Islam, mosques or religious preaching are immune from criticism. They plainly are not. Nor are Hindu institutions, Christian institutions, political organisations, governments or public officials. Article 19(1)(a) protects vigorous criticism, including criticism capable of causing offence.
The real question is whether criticism of identifiable conduct has been replaced by an unsupported attribution of hostile conduct to a religious collective.
That distinction lies at the centre of the Supreme Court’s modern jurisprudence on hate speech.
Any serious analysis must begin by rejecting an overbroad proposition: speech does not become unlawful merely because members of a religious community find it offensive.
In Ramesh v. Union of India, (1988) 1 SCC 668, para 13, while considering the television serial Tamas, the Supreme Court approved the standard that the effect of expression must be judged from the standpoint of : “reasonable, strong-minded, firm and courageous men” and not those who detect danger in every hostile viewpoint.
That principle remains fundamental. Constitutional adjudication cannot proceed according to the sensibilities of the most easily offended listener.
The same caution appears in Manzar Sayeed Khan v. State of Maharashtra, (2007) 5 SCC 1. Considering Section 153A IPC, the Court emphasised that the material complained of must be considered as a whole. It rejected an approach based upon extracting isolated sentences and connecting them through strained inferential reasoning. The Court further held that intention to promote enmity or hatred was central to the offence and that the relevant intention had to be assessed from the language employed and the circumstances in which it was published. See Manzar Sayeed Khan, (2007) 5 SCC 1, paras 16–17.
The safeguard is constitutionally important. Criminal law cannot become an instrument for punishing unpopular opinions.
Patricia Mukhim v. State of Meghalaya, (2021) 15 SCC 35, paras 10–13, reinforces the point. The Supreme Court quashed criminal proceedings arising from a Facebook post criticising governmental inaction following violence against non-tribal residents. The Court refused to equate criticism concerning inter-community relations with promotion of hatred between communities. Free speech, it stressed, cannot be suppressed through criminal prosecution unless the speech possesses the legally relevant tendency to affect public order.
Any assessment of Rao’s reported statement must therefore begin with a presumption in favour of freedom of expression, not with a presumption of criminality.
But that is the beginning of the inquiry, not its conclusion.
The jurisprudential turning point is Amish Devgan v. Union of India, (2021) 1 SCC 1.
The Supreme Court undertook an extensive examination of the constitutional distinction between protected speech and hate speech. The judgment recognises that speech may move beyond disagreement with ideas or conduct and begin instead to operate through the identity of the targeted group.
At paras 48–49, the Court discussed three interrelated dimensions relevant to identifying hate speech: content, intent and harm or impact.
Content concerns what the communication objectively conveys. Intent concerns whether the speaker seeks to promote hatred, resentment, humiliation or vilification of an identifiable group. Harm includes not merely physical violence but the possibility of social subordination, exclusion and structural injury.
The Court consequently distinguished criticism directed towards political, social and economic questions from expression whose substance is the humiliation or alienation of a targeted community.
That distinction is directly relevant here.
Consider two propositions.
First : “An imam at Mosque X delivered a sermon on Friday Y containing statements hostile to Hindus.”
Second : “Mosques across India abuse Hindus every Friday.”
The former alleges misconduct by an identifiable individual at an identifiable place and time. Its truth or falsity can readily be investigated.
The latter does something qualitatively different. It takes alleged individual conduct and converts it into a characteristic associated with a religious institution on a nationwide scale. Depending upon the precise words and context, the ordinary listener may understand the assertion not simply as criticism of a preacher but as an accusation concerning a religious community and one of its principal institutions.
That movement from conduct to collective identity is constitutionally significant.
As Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan v. Union of India, (2014) 11 SCC 477, paras 6–9, recognised, hate speech can operate by marginalising persons because of their membership in a group and by reducing the social standing and acceptance of that group in the eyes of others.
The Court nevertheless adopted an important limiting principle. At paras 6–7, drawing upon comparative jurisprudence, it distinguished extreme manifestations of “detestation” and “vilification” from expression that is merely repugnant or offensive.
The distinction protects both sides of the constitutional equation.
A democracy must tolerate offensive criticism. It need not regard deliberate communal vilification as constitutionally indistinguishable from legitimate criticism.
The reported assertion presents an elementary question that precedes criminal law : what is its evidentiary foundation?
The allegation is empirically testable.
If sermons abusing Hindus as a community are being delivered at particular mosques, those incidents should be identified and investigated. Recordings, witnesses, complaints, contemporaneous reports and other admissible material can establish what was said, by whom, where and in what context.
Indeed, the constitutional position should be entirely symmetrical. An imam who deliberately promotes hatred against Hindus is no more entitled to constitutional immunity than a Hindu speaker who deliberately promotes hatred against Muslims. The identity of the speaker cannot determine the content of the law.
The difficulty arises when identifiable incidents are replaced by a universal or near-universal assertion.
No responsible analysis can safely assert that no mosque in India has ever witnessed an objectionable sermon. Such a proposition would itself require evidence of impossible breadth. Equally, however, the existence of one incident, several incidents, or even a disturbing cluster of incidents cannot logically establish a proposition concerning mosques throughout a country of India’s geographical and religious scale.
This is where the former institutional position of the speaker becomes relevant.
M. Nageswara Rao was not merely a participant in ordinary public debate. He served as interim Director of the Central Bureau of Investigation. That circumstance does not diminish his post-retirement freedom of speech. Former public officials remain citizens and retain the constitutional liberties enjoyed by other citizens.
But institutional history can affect how an audience receives a factual assertion.
A former head of a national investigative agency may reasonably be perceived as possessing access, experience or knowledge beyond that available to an ordinary speaker. An audience may consequently attribute evidentiary weight to his factual assertions precisely because of the office he formerly occupied.
The greater the authority attached to the speaker, therefore, the stronger the case for insisting upon intellectual discipline in distinguishing information, inference, opinion and allegation.
Amish Devgan is particularly instructive because the Court rejected a purely lexical approach to hate speech. Words cannot invariably be classified in abstraction.
The Court’s analysis requires attention to what may conveniently be described as the who, whom, where, when and in what circumstances of the communication.
The identity and social position of the speaker matter. The targeted and non-targeted groups matter. The occasion matters. Existing relations between the communities matter. The ordinary and reasonable meaning conveyed by the words matters. So does the proximity between the expression and the harm against which the statute protects.
This contextual approach prevents two opposite errors.
The first is over-criminalisation: treating every provocative statement concerning religion as hate speech.
The second is under-analysis: pretending that an identical sentence has precisely the same social meaning irrespective of whether it is whispered privately, published by an anonymous account, broadcast by a national television anchor, delivered to a mass gathering, or spoken by a former head of a national investigative institution.
Context does not predetermine guilt.
It determines the seriousness with which the communication must be examined.
The Indian Penal Code has now been replaced by the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023Indian Justice Code, 2023One of three new criminal codes enacted in India in 2023, replacing the Indian Penal Code (IPC) and coming into effect in July 2024.. Section 196 BNS substantially occupies the field formerly covered by Section 153A IPC in relation to promoting enmity between groups and acts prejudicial to harmony.
It would nevertheless be legally excessive to declare, merely from a circulated extract, that Rao has committed an offence under Section 196.
Supreme Court authorities require considerably more.
In Bilal Ahmed Kaloo v. State of A.P., (1997) 7 SCC 431, the Court held, while examining Sections 153A and 505(2) IPC, that the statutory conception of promoting enmity operates “between different” religious or other identified groups. The Court also treated mens rea as an essential ingredient.
Manzar Sayeed Khan, (2007) 5 SCC 1, paras 16–17, similarly requires the intention and context of the communication to be examined and the material to be read as a whole.
Most importantly, Amish Devgan cautions against deciding disputed factual questions prematurely. Criminal liability cannot be pronounced through political commentary or newspaper analysis.
The legally sustainable proposition is therefore narrower : If the recording and translation are authentic, and if the statement in its full context amounts to an assertion that mosques or Muslims as a religious collectivity systematically engage in anti-Hindu abuse, the statement warrants examination against Section 196 BNS in light of the content, intent, context, speaker, target, audience, impact and proximity principles identified in the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence.
Whether those requirements are ultimately satisfied is a matter for lawful investigation and, if prosecution follows, judicial determination.
That qualification does not weaken the criticism. It makes the criticism constitutional.
There is a temptation in controversies involving religion to treat the criminal law as the first instrument of response. Supreme Court jurisprudence counsels otherwise.
In Patricia Mukhim, the Court demonstrated why criticism touching upon communal relations cannot automatically be transformed into a criminal offence.
In Ramesh, it rejected the sensitivities of the timid listener as the constitutional standard.
In Manzar Sayeed Khan, it insisted upon context and the communication as a whole.
And in Amish Devgan, while elaborating the constitutional dangers of hate speech, the Court simultaneously recognised the indispensable democratic value of free expression.
These decisions together produce a coherent rule :The constitutional response to potentially communal speech must neither trivialise group vilification nor criminalise legitimate disagreement.
That principle must operate irrespective of the religious identity of the speaker or the target.
It follows that the question raised by Rao’s reported assertion is not whether criticism of Islamic practices should be prohibited. It plainly should not.
The question is whether an assertion presented as fact and attributing systematic wrongdoing to religious institutions across India has an identifiable factual foundation.
That is a question a former investigator should welcome.
The constitutional significance of the controversy extends beyond Article 19.
The Preamble promises fraternity, assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the nation. Amish Devgan places considerable emphasis upon the relationship between fraternity, pluralism, dignity and equality.
This is important because communal stereotyping injures constitutional citizenship in a manner different from ordinary personal insult.
An allegation directed against an identified individual leaves the remainder of the community untouched.
An allegation that attributes a hostile practice to a religious institution generally can operate differently. Individual citizens may cease to be perceived as individuals and instead become representatives of a supposedly suspect collective identity.
That is precisely why constitutional democracies distinguish criticism of ideas from the social degradation of persons by reason of immutable or deeply constitutive group identity.
Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan, (2014) 11 SCC 477, paras 7–9, recognised that hate speech can diminish the ability of members of targeted groups to participate as equals in democratic society.
The injury, therefore, is not confined to hurt feelings.
It concerns equal citizenship.
A separate question must be carefully distinguished from criminal liability: what does such speech mean for the reputation of the institution once headed by the speaker?
Here, caution is especially necessary.
The personal opinions expressed by a retired officer cannot automatically be attributed to the institution in which he once served. Nor would it be legitimate, without evidence, to infer that investigations conducted during his tenure were communally biased merely because of statements subsequently made by him.
Institutional criticism must obey the same evidentiary discipline demanded of the person being criticised.
The defensible concern is narrower.
The CBI depends heavily upon public confidence in its political neutrality, investigative objectivity and fidelity to evidence. A person who has occupied its highest office inevitably carries some residual public association with that institution.
Consequently, when a former head of such an agency makes a sweeping factual assertion concerning a religious community without publicly identifying its evidentiary basis, the resulting controversy can affect public perceptions of the culture of objectivity expected from persons selected for such positions.
That is a legitimate institutional question.
It is not legitimate to convert that question into an unsupported allegation that the CBI itself acted with communal prejudice.
The distinction is essential.
Perhaps the most important safeguard against transforming this criticism into counter-majoritarian rhetoric is symmetry.
Suppose reliable evidence established that particular mosques were routinely being used to promote hatred against Hindus.
The constitutional answer would not be denial.
The answer would be investigation and equal enforcement of law.
A Muslim cleric who intentionally promotes religious enmity enjoys no special exemption from Section 196 BNS. Nor does a Hindu religious leader, Christian preacher, political leader, journalist, former bureaucrat or retired police officer.
The constitutional vice lies not in which community speaks.
It lies in whether the legally prohibited conduct is established.
This principle is indispensable because hate-speech regulation itself becomes dangerous when selectively enforced. Criminal law cannot become a weapon through which the majority suppresses minority criticism, or through which minority status immunises genuinely unlawful incitement.
Equality before law requires both propositions to be rejected.
There is ultimately a simple method of resolving the factual controversy generated by the reported statement.
Produce the evidence.
If the proposition concerns identifiable sermons, identify them.
If recordings exist, authenticate them.
If complaints were filed, produce them.
If investigations established a recurring pattern, identify those findings subject to lawful confidentiality.
If prosecutions resulted, cite them.
If the proposition is based upon a systematic study, publish the methodology and data.
Conversely, critics of Rao should resist claiming that no anti-Hindu sermon has ever been delivered in any Indian mosque unless they possess evidence capable of supporting such an absolute proposition.
The correct response to overgeneralisation is not reverse overgeneralisation.
It is epistemic discipline.
This is particularly important in communal discourse because anecdote possesses enormous rhetorical power. A single genuine incident can easily be transformed into a claim about millions of people. Once that transformation occurs, citizens cease to be judged according to their individual conduct and become bearers of an attributed collective guilt.
Constitutionalism exists partly to resist precisely that process.
There is an additional reason why this controversy deserves scrutiny.
Investigation is institutionally organised scepticism.
A professional investigator distinguishes suspicion from proof, information from admissible evidence, correlation from causation, allegation from finding, and individual misconduct from collective culpability.
The criminal justice system would become impossible if those distinctions disappeared.
The significance of a former CBI Director advancing a sweeping factual allegation therefore lies less in his political or ideological preferences than in the epistemological contradiction involved.
The office he once occupied represents the proposition that serious accusations require evidence.
That principle cannot logically become less important when the accused is not an individual but an entire religious community.
Indeed, the broader the accusation, the greater the need for evidentiary restraint.
The controversy surrounding M. Nageswara Rao’s reported statement should not be resolved by reciprocal outrage.
Nor should criticism of the statement depend upon declaring its speaker criminally guilty without investigation or trial.
The stronger constitutional response is more exacting.
If a former Director of the Central Bureau of Investigation asserts, in substance, that Hindus are systematically abused during Friday worship in mosques throughout India, the proposition is capable of being tested. Its extraordinary breadth requires correspondingly substantial evidence.
If such evidence exists, it should be produced and the individual offenders identified. The law must then operate without religious favour.
If such evidence does not exist, however, a sweeping allegation concerning a religious community cannot acquire truth merely because it is repeatedly asserted or because its speaker once occupied high public office.
The Supreme Court’s jurisprudence supplies the appropriate constitutional framework.
Ramesh protects society against censorship generated by hypersensitivity.
Bilal Ahmed Kaloo identifies the inter-group character required by the statutory offence.
Manzar Sayeed Khan demands context, mens rea and consideration of the communication as a whole.
Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan explains the democratic harm caused by group marginalisation.
Patricia Mukhim protects robust criticism from opportunistic criminalisation.
And Amish Devgan provides the contemporary synthesis : the constitutional inquiry must examine content, intent, context, speaker, target, audience, impact and the relationship between expression and the legally protected harm.
Applied faithfully, those decisions produce neither censorship nor impunity.
They produce a demand for evidence.
That demand becomes especially compelling when the speaker has previously commanded an institution whose authority rests upon evidence itself.
The troubling question, therefore, is not whether a retired public official is entitled to hold strong religious or political opinions. He unquestionably is.
The question is whether the residual authority of high investigative office should lend credibility to a nationwide communal allegation for which no verifiable evidentiary foundation accompanies the assertion.
A constitutional democracy should answer that question without fear, favour or communal preference. It should ask for proof. And until proof is produced, allegation must remain allegation.
Having said that, perhaps every investigation conducted by an institution while a person of such mentality headed it requires to be revisited, and interrogated to check whether it was free from communal bias. To check whether a public official drawing a salary from the exchequer was quietly playing fifth column games and steering the nation, and the Courts, into chaos. To check whether he should be prosecuted, and those investigated under his charge be freed from a stigma neither merited nor justified.
Jai Hind
Disclaimer:The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Rift.



