Neither the arrest of Professor Ali Khan Mahmudabad nor his bail is an unfamiliar story in today’s highly polarised India where even pivotal institutions are struggling to maintain the balance which is expected of them. The Supreme Court, on Wednesday, granted interim bail to the Ashoka University academic, but declined to halt investigations into his social media posts—citing that Khan has not made out any case for stay on investigation. Cases like this are a litmus test for the nature of democratic discourse prevailing in the country, and for the broader endeavour of finding the fine balancing line between national integrity and freedom of expression.
In his social media posts, Professor Mahmudabad—who can safely be said to be a political scientist and public intellectual—expressed his opinion on India’s military response to Pakistan following the Pahalgam terror attack. His posts, evidently or apparently, condemned war, acknowledged India’s right to retaliate against terrorism, and praised the inclusion of women officers in the military's media briefings. However, at the same time, he warned against tokenism and hypocrisy in nationalist discourse. For this, he now stands accused under multiple grave sections of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, including those relating to sedition-like offences, public mischief, and even insulting the modesty of women. To equate cautionary opinion with criminality is a dangerous slide toward authoritarianism. The idea that critique—even if rooted in patriotic intent and deeply respectful tone—can invite arrest speaks volumes of the atmosphere of hyper-nationalist intolerance that now envelops public discourse in the country. Although the Supreme Court’s decision to constitute an independent Special Investigation Team (SIT) is a welcome safeguard against local political vendetta, the very fact that such an arrest even took place is deeply troubling to many academic and rights activists.
A healthy churn of ideas, and not idealised unanimity, is the right recipe for a thriving democracy. Mahmudabad’s language, even if unpalatable to some, does not, in any way, seem to amount to incitement or hate speech by any reasonable interpretation. Instead, his posts fall squarely within the ambit of democratic dissent. If caution against war, a plea for empathy, and a call to address domestic injustices are deemed subversive, then the boundaries of acceptable speech are definitely narrowing to a dangerous degree in the nation. The FIRs filed against him—one by a BJP youth worker and another by the head of a state women's commission—are yet another revelation of how political and institutional power are being mobilised to suppress inconvenient voices. Ironically, the very women officers Mahmudabad is accused of insulting were being praised in his posts. No less disconcerting are the Supreme Court’s oral observations that questioned the “timing” and “choice of words” in Mahmudabad’s posts. While one is obliged to appreciate judicial concern for national unity during crises, it must not come at the cost of chilling legitimate expression. The role of the judiciary should not be to police tone or editorialise intent. It should rather prioritise upholding the values enshrined in the Constitution—including Article 19, which guarantees the right to free speech.
India has been no stranger to dissent. From Gandhi to Ambedkar, its moral and political traditions are shaped by those who challenged popular opinion. Today's democracy must have the capacity to accommodate complex viewpoints. The alternative—a nation where critique is met with prosecution and where academics must second-guess every sentence—can only lead to cultural stagnation and political tyranny. Professor Mahmudabad’s case will reveal whether India will uphold the spirit of its constitutional promise or slide into the authoritarian habits of thought-policing and ideological purification. The judiciary, the academy, and civil society must act together to protect the vital space for reasoned dissent—before that space disappears altogether. Patriotism is not demonstrated by silence, but by the courage to speak—especially when doing so is inconvenient.