Democracy or Crown? The Battle Over India’s Judiciary

The recent uproar over the NCERT Class 8 textbook’s section on “Corruption in the Judiciary” has ignited a storm that goes far beyond pedagogy. The Supreme Court’s suo motu cognisance of the issue, with Chief Justice Surya Kant declaring it a “calculated move,” raises a fundamental question: Is this merely about protecting the dignity of the judiciary, or is it part of a larger struggle over the soul of Indian democracy?

At stake is not just the reputation of judges or the content of a schoolbook. The deeper concern is whether, after the executive and legislature have increasingly come under the sway of concentrated political power, the judiciary too is being drawn into a battle for control. If the judiciary—the last pillar of independence—falls prey to capture, what remains of democracy? Would India then be reduced to an electoral democracy, where the act of voting crowns rulers but offers no real checks on their power?

Democracy rests on three pillars: legislature, executive, and judiciary. The legislature makes laws, the executive enforces them, and the judiciary ensures they conform to constitutional principles. When the legislature and executive are dominated by majoritarian impulses or political expediency, the judiciary becomes the final guardian of rights and freedoms.

But if the judiciary itself is delegitimized—whether through accusations of corruption, political interference, or public distrust—the balance collapses. The textbook controversy is not just about whether students should learn of judicial flaws; it is about whether the institution itself is being weakened in the public imagination, paving the way for unchecked executive dominance.

The NCERT textbook cites over 1,600 complaints against judges between 2017 and 2021, and even quotes former CJI B.R. Gavai on the need for transparency and accountability. These are undeniable realities. Pending cases—81,000 in the Supreme Court, 62 lakh in high courts, and a staggering 4.7 crore in lower courts—are not fabrications. They are the lived experience of millions of citizens waiting for justice.

Yet, the framing matters. To highlight corruption without equal emphasis on judicial integrity, reforms, and constitutional safeguards risks painting the judiciary as irredeemably tainted. Senior counsel A.M. Singhvi’s remark that the judiciary was “selectively targeted” points to this imbalance. If the narrative of corruption dominates, public trust erodes, and the judiciary’s independence becomes easier to undermine.

History shows that when institutions are delegitimized, they become vulnerable to capture. The executive already wields influence over judicial appointments through the collegium system debates. The legislature can pass laws curtailing judicial review. If public opinion is primed to see the judiciary as corrupt, then any move to “reform” it—whether through tighter executive control or legislative oversight—can be justified as necessary.

This is the danger: the erosion of judicial independence under the guise of accountability. Once the judiciary is no longer perceived as neutral, democracy transforms into a mere ritual of elections. Citizens vote, rulers are crowned, but rights and freedoms depend entirely on the goodwill of those in power.

The essence of democracy is not just elections; it is the separation of powers and the rule of law. If the judiciary is captured, India risks sliding into what can only be called an electoral monarchy. The people vote, but the crown rests permanently on the head of the ruling party, unchecked by independent institutions.

This is not democracy in its true sense—it is electoral democracy stripped of substance. The Constitution envisioned a system where no branch could dominate the others. But if the legislature and executive already bend toward majoritarian control, and the judiciary is delegitimized, then the crown becomes absolute.

The face of such a democracy would be grim: dissent criminalized, rights conditional, and justice delayed or denied. Citizens would still cast ballots, but the act would be symbolic, not transformative.

The controversy over the NCERT textbook must therefore be seen in a larger frame. It is not about shielding students from uncomfortable truths, nor about silencing criticism. It is about ensuring that accountability does not become a weapon for capture.

Yes, students should learn that corruption exists, that pending cases are a crisis, and that transparency is essential. But they must also learn that the judiciary is the guardian of the Constitution, that it has mechanisms of self-correction, and that its independence is vital to democracy.

The Supreme Court’s strong reaction reflects this anxiety. To protect the dignity of the judiciary is not to deny its flaws, but to prevent those flaws from being weaponized against its independence.

India stands at a crossroads. If the judiciary is delegitimized and captured, democracy will shrink into a hollow shell—an electoral ritual that crowns rulers without restraining them. The Constitution will remain on paper, but its spirit will be extinguished.

The choice is stark: crown or Constitution. If India values democracy beyond the ballot box, it must defend judicial independence fiercely, even while demanding accountability. Otherwise, the textbook controversy will be remembered not as a debate over education, but as a turning point where democracy surrendered its last frontier.

The question is not whether corruption exists in the judiciary. The question is whether India will allow that narrative to become the excuse for dismantling the very institution that stands between democracy and the crown.