How Justice Sreedharan’s Transfers Expose the Cracks in India’s Judicial Independence

When Justice Atul Sreedharan was again ordered to pack his bags—this time to the Allahabad High Court—the tremor was felt far beyond courtroom walls. It was not just about a judge’s reassignment; it was about the shrinking space of independence within India’s higher judiciary. His repeated transfers, three in seven months, reflect a disturbing pattern that questions not merely the role of the government but the integrity of the Supreme Court Collegium itself—once seen as the last bastion against executive overreach.

The judiciary’s credibility rests on the perception that judges are immune from political influence. Yet, when an upright and outspoken judge like Justice Sreedharan is moved frequently, even after exhibiting exemplary professional ethics, the signals are clear: dissent or independence carries a price. The pattern mirrors what many legal scholars have long warned—the silent encroachment of the executive upon judicial autonomy. The Collegium, constitutionally empowered to decide on appointments and transfers, now appears to be yielding to pressure, undermining its own authority.

Sreedharan’s case is particularly telling. Known for his fierce sense of propriety, he voluntarily left Madhya Pradesh earlier when his daughter began practising there. In Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh, his tenure was marked by firm handling of preventive detention and UAPA cases, often causing discomfort to those in power. Yet, his transfer came just weeks before the retirement of Chief Justice Tashi Rabstan—raising eyebrows over the timing and intent. When he was sent back to Madhya Pradesh, and later recommended for Chhattisgarh, his rise in seniority could have soon placed him in the high court collegium—a position that wields significant influence over appointments. But with the latest twist, the government’s “reconsideration request” prompted the Supreme Court to change its mind and send him to Allahabad instead, where he will rank seventh, effectively clipping his wings.

Senior advocate Dushyant Dave’s reaction captures the disquiet of the legal fraternity. “Far from protecting the judiciary, the Chief Justice of India and his colleagues have allowed the Executive to have an upper hand,” he said, accusing the Collegium of abdicating its constitutional responsibility. The words are harsh but not unfounded. For decades, the Collegium system was defended as a shield to ensure the judiciary’s independence from political interference. However, when its decisions appear to be modified or softened at the government’s behest, the institution’s moral authority weakens. The transfer from Chhattisgarh to Allahabad might seem routine on paper, but its implications are far from administrative—they are political and institutional.

The pattern is not new. Justice Akil Kureshi, once a strong contender for elevation as Chief Justice of Madhya Pradesh, was instead moved to Tripura after the government reportedly objected to his promotion. Justice S. Muralidhar, revered for his sharp independence, faced a similar ordeal when his transfer from Orissa to Madras was delayed until the Collegium quietly withdrew it. Each instance chips away at the judiciary’s moral armour, conveying a chilling message to judges across the country: toe the line, or be moved.

The larger issue here is not about one judge’s posting but about the balance of power between the executive and the judiciary. The Constitution envisaged the judiciary as the ultimate safeguard of citizens’ rights and the rule of law. Its insulation from political pressure was meant to preserve that role. Yet, as the executive increasingly nudges the Collegium, it is no longer a question of who controls judicial appointments—it is about who controls judicial conscience.

Justice Sreedharan’s own record underscores why he might have drawn unwelcome attention. His order directing an FIR against Madhya Pradesh minister Vijay Shah for making derogatory remarks against a decorated Army officer, Colonel Sofiya Qureshi, was a rare instance of judicial courage. His words—“His comments are dangerous as now they have started reaching the armed forces of this country”—reflect a deep sense of institutional responsibility. It is such forthrightness that sets apart judges who see their role as more than procedural arbiters. Unfortunately, it is also this very independence that often leads to their marginalisation.

The Collegium’s decision to “reconsider” its earlier recommendation under government suggestion raises a fundamental question: if the executive can influence who sits where, can the judiciary still claim to be free? Transparency and accountability in the Collegium’s operations have long been debated, but the opacity of its decision-making now serves as a convenient cover for executive intrusion. When judicial transfers are used as instruments of control, the system ceases to be about merit or administrative necessity—it becomes a tool of compliance.

What makes this situation alarming is the quiet acceptance of it within the judiciary itself. The silence of the Supreme Court’s senior leadership is deafening. The very guardians of the Constitution seem unwilling to confront an encroaching executive, possibly fearing institutional confrontation or political retaliation. But as Dushyant Dave warned, this may well mark “the beginning of the end for the independent judiciary.” If judges begin to second-guess the consequences of their rulings, justice itself becomes conditional.

The case of Justice Sreedharan, therefore, is not just a story of one man’s repeated transfers—it is a mirror held up to a system under strain. A democracy’s strength lies in its ability to uphold dissenting voices within its own institutions. The erosion of that principle, through the quiet manipulation of transfers, risks turning the judiciary into an extension of executive will. Unless the Collegium reclaims its constitutional authority and reaffirms its independence, the idea of an impartial judiciary—once India’s greatest democratic achievement—will stand gravely diminished.