At the stroke of midnight on June 25, 1975, a constitutional republic, born of perhaps the most disciplined independence struggle in world history, had descended into authoritarian darkness. At the behest of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed declared a proclamation of Emergency under Article 352, declaring “internal disturbance” as a national security threat. Neither was it the “enemy state” declaration of war nor a natural disaster announcement. It was a constitutional charade to protect Indira Gandhi from the impact of an unfavourable court ruling.
Just earlier that month, the Allahabad High Court, in a historic decision which runs by the name State of Uttar Pradesh v. Raj Narain, Justice Jagmohanlal Sinha declared Indira Gandhi’s 1971 Lok Sabha election void based on electoral malpractices. The ruling was clear: the Prime Minister broke election law and must resign. But instead of accepting the judgment, she used the emergency provisions to retain power. It was a watershed moment for Indian democracy, not because the provisions for the Emergency had always been in place, but because the state of Emergency was declared not for national security but for personal political security.
One of the first outcomes of the announcement of Emergency was the suspension of basic rights. An executive that had previously had to answer to the courts and the legislature was now able to operate without fear of any such checks. Constitutional provisions that Dr B R Ambedkar had so carefully created with checks and balances were made ineffective. The 39th Amendment allowed Gandhi to be free from judicial examination. The “mini-Constitution” or the 42nd Amendment essentially finished the job of unbalancing the constitution by rendering amendments to the constitution not subject to judicial review as well as giving directive principles higher standing than fundamental rights.
This was not the constitutional government. Instead, it was a type of constitutional vandalism. There was no concept of a “constitutional morality”, a tacit understanding that power should abide by moral restraints – that was given up. The maker of our Constitution Dr BR Ambedkar, had cautioned in the Constituent Assembly that “a good Constitution is not a matter of pride; it may be made a dead letter if those in power do not respect the fundamental conception and realities of constitutional morality”. The prediction was, tragically, correct.
Plus, the governance during the emergency era re-wrote the social contract between the citizen and the state. Coercion replaced any notion of democratic legitimacy, and procedural legality covered up moral rot within the state. This wasn’t an outlier of the law; this was law as a tool of tyranny. The Emergency also teaches that authoritarianism does not have to be an entity that requires breaking down constitutional order from without but can be conceived within the constitutional order and grow up through the sheltering receptacles of procedural adherence without any Dharma.
Dharma Betrayed: The Adharmic Order of the Emergency
Dharma is the cornerstone of Indian jurisprudential philosophy, guiding not only individual behaviour but also institutional ethics and statecraft. Dharmic law views the ruler as a Dharmakarta, a caretaker rather than a master, in contrast to Western jurisprudence, which views law as essentially a positivist command of the sovereign. There are frameworks in the Manusmriti, the Arthashastra of Kautilya, and even the Mahabharata where the legitimacy of the state is derived from its conformity with Dharma rather than from force.
The Emergency period completely disregarded this ancient principle. Instead of acting as the Rakshaka (protector), the state transformed into a Shoshaka (oppressor). The Rajadharma, which calls for justice, fairness, restraint, and the safeguarding of the vulnerable, was turned on its head. Take, for instance, the horrific sterilization campaigns led by Sanjay Gandhi under the guise of population control. Hundreds of thousands of men were sterilized against their will, often without anaesthesia or proper post-operative care. Entire communities were coerced into compliance, with failure to meet sterilization “quotas” resulting in the loss of government services, food rations, and educational opportunities.
In Delhi’s Turkman Gate, the so-called slum clearance initiative was nothing less than urban ethnic cleansing. Homes were demolished, and residents were uprooted overnight. Journalistic reports tell of mothers fleeing with their children and elderly men weeping as bulldozers destroyed their livelihoods all in the name of “beautification.”
There was no Nyaya (justice), no Karuna (compassion), and no Satya (truth). The Emergency represented a systematic campaign of Adharma, cloaked in legal justifications. In traditional Hindu thought, a ruler who strays from Dharma loses their legitimacy, regardless of the political power they claim. According to the Manusmriti, a king should govern through Dharma and not fear. When they violate Dharma, the realm of governance becomes a battleground of injustice.
During the Emergency, Indian society witnessed exactly such a breach. The state’s coercive arm reached into households, press rooms, hospitals, courts, and even colleges. Dissenters were labelled traitors. Youth activists such as Jayaprakash Narayan and Atal Bihar Vajpayee, among others, were imprisoned, opposition leaders were silenced, and student protests were brutally crushed. Political prisoners numbered over 100,000.
The concept of Dharmic statehood calls for Samabhava, which means equal respect for all lives and dignities. However, what actually happened was a distortion of that very principle. Even the noble idea of Lokasangraha i.e. governing for the benefit of everyone—was twisted to justify the authoritarian rule. Essentially, Gandhi’s leadership swapped out Dharma for Rajasik Ahamkara, which is a form of political egoism. India, a country with a rich history of Ram Rajya, found itself under the shadow of Ravana Rajya.
This isn’t just some poetic metaphor; it holds significant legal implications. When Dharma is compromised at the highest levels, the law loses its foundation, and Anarchy in Order takes the place of true order. During the Emergency, the state didn’t just neglect its responsibilities; it went so far as to declare those responsibilities meaningless.
Judiciary’s Moral Collapse: The ADM Jabalpur Case and Its Aftermath
It’s hard to think of an institution that suffered as much during the Emergency as the judiciary did. One might say that when all other branches succumb to tyranny, the courts stand as the final bastion of freedom. But in India, that bastion fell apart. The pivotal moment for the judiciary during the Emergency came with the Supreme Court’s ruling in ADM Jabalpur v. Shivkant Shukla (1976), often referred to as the Habeas Corpus Case.
This case stemmed from the detention of numerous political leaders and everyday citizens under the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA). When this was challenged, the government claimed that since the Emergency was in effect and Articles 21 and 22, protecting life and liberty, were suspended, the courts had no authority to intervene. Shockingly, four out of the five judges on the constitutional bench, Chief Justice A.N. Ray, along with Justices Beg, Chandrachud, and Bhagwati, agreed with this stance. They ruled that a citizen had no right to approach the court, even if they were detained unlawfully or died in custody.
This wasn’t just a judicial mistake; it was a catastrophic failure of jurisprudential principles. The court decided that during the Emergency, the right to life itself was on hold. The State could take a life, and the citizen would have no recourse. The very foundation of Indian constitutionalism, a State bound by law and accountable to rights, was utterly destroyed.
Only Justice H.R. Khanna stood against this decision and dissented. In what is perhaps the most courageous dissent in Indian legal history, he stated, “Even in the absence of Article 21, the State has no power to deprive a person of his life or liberty without the authority of law.” His dissent cost him the position of Chief Justice, but it also cemented his legacy as the moral compass of the Indian judiciary.
The ADM Jabalpur judgment didn’t just breach constitutional norms; it also violated fundamental principles of civilisation. According to Dharmashastra, no ruler has the right to infringe upon Jiva, the sanctity of life. The Mahabharata clearly states that a king who kills without justification or due process commits Mahapataka—a grave sin. Yet, the Indian Supreme Court ruled that such killings could not be challenged in court.
This case goes beyond just being a legal precedent; it represents a deep moral scar. It sheds light on the risks of legal positivism when it’s detached from higher ethical standards. By stepping back from its Dharmic duty, the judiciary allowed tyranny to take root.
The shadow of ADM Jabalpur loomed over Indian law for many years until it was finally overturned in the case K.S Puttaswamy v. Union of India (2017), wherein Justice DY Chandrachud overruled a judgement authored by his father, Justice YV Chandrachud, which affirmed the right to privacy as a fundamental right. In that ruling, the Court admitted that ADM Jabalpur was a mistake and a source of shame. Yet, no matter how sincere those acknowledgements are, they can’t change the past.
The People’s Dharma: Restoration Through Resistance and Remembrance
In March 1977, India made a significant decision by voting Indira Gandhi out of power. This wasn’t just a simple electoral outcome; it was a Dharmic Prayaschitta, a collective act of moral redemption for the nation. The people, particularly in northern India, didn’t turn against the Congress merely due to economic downturns or failures in foreign policy. Instead, it stemmed from a deep-rooted sense of injustice. Despite facing brutality, humiliation, and suppression, the common man stood firm in upholding Dharma where the State had faltered.
This election stands as one of the mightiest democratic reactions against tyranny in the entire world of history. And it further strengthened the understanding that while the rulers may violate Dharma, it continues to exist in the hearts of the masses. The Janata Party’s government, though weak in administration, played a great role in the healing of the Constitution. The 44th Constitutional Amendment of 1978 ensured that Articles 20 and 21 could never be suspended, even for a moment under an Emergency. Additional safeguards were also inserted into the Constitution against the misuse of Article 352 in the future.
Restoring Dharma, they say, is not merely the restoration of laws but of Samskara or the moral backbone of public life. The Emergency taught every citizen that moral vigilance is his or her own responsibility, and not that of the institutions alone. The silence of the intellectuals, the complicity of the bureaucrats, and the opportunism of the media were not accidental but were systemic failures of Satya and Ahimsa -values that form the core of our national ethos.
Since then, India has made strides forward. The judiciary is more assertive, civil society is more vocal, and the youth are increasingly aware. Yet, the shadows of the Emergency still linger in bureaucratic overreach, digital censorship and the Islamification of institutions. The lesson from 1975 isn’t just that the Emergency was imposed; it’s that it was allowed to happen.
50 Years Later: Memory as Dharma
On completing half a century since the Emergency was declared in India, we should therefore consider going beyond mere remembrance of the past. This evokes careful pondering on the moral bankruptcy of the basic ideals that support our Republic, and on the political and legal shortcomings of that era.
The Emergency may feel like a thing of the past to young Indians who were born after 1991. However, it really acts as a reminder of how no institution, however well-designed, can sufficiently safeguard the liberties of our citizens without being guided by Dharma. Principles like Satyagraha, civil courage, and institutional integrity are forever relevant and are always going to be there, whether laws or constitutional parlance are changed or not.
The Emergency serves as a sobering warning that any leader, group, or ideology that seeks to put itself above the law and Dharma must be confronted at a time when debates over free speech, individual liberty, and national security are at the forefront.
Dharma constitutes the soul of Rajya in our Indian culture; it is not merely a choice. Dharma and the law underwent suppression during the Emergency. Let’s give an assurance that it never goes unnoticed ever again.
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