Nishikant Dubey is no freelance vigilante

When a parliamentarian wages war on the judiciary, it is sometimes more than bluster—it’s a signal. Nishikant Dubey’s recent sound byte to a news agency wasn’t a slip of the tongue—it was a calculated strike. And it demands a sober national response. “If judges want to make laws, shut Parliament,” he declared. The words weren’t a mere critique of judicial activism. They were a challenge to the very notion of judicial review in a constitutional democracy. The immediate provocation? The Supreme Court’s tough questioning of the government over certain provisions of the amended Waqf Act of 2025. The apex court did not stay the entire law; it merely recorded the government’s offer to pause some problematic provisions till the next date of hearing. That is not judicial overreach, it’s due process.

Yet Dubey’s fury, no doubt at the behest of his political masters, was explosive. Why? Because the pause obstructs a political narrative. The law in question affects community-held Muslim properties—waqf lands—with deep historical roots. The BJP calls it an antiencroachment measure. The Court called for caution. Dubey called it a provocation. This isn’t about property law. It’s about the impending elections in Bihar and then Bengal. Polarisation remains a reliable tool. The judiciary—if left unbent—is an obstacle. So, the strategy is simple: discredit it, one blow at a time.

Dubey is not acting alone. Vice president Jagdeep Dhankhar—who, as Rajya Sabha chairman, holds a constitutional role that demands impartiality—joined the fray shortly after the Supreme Court ruled that governors must clear pending state legislation within a “reasonable time”. Dhankhar publicly questioned the Court’s interpretation, suggesting that such judicial review uses Article 142 of the Constitution as a “nuclear missile”. That language is no accident.

When the vice president echoes the grievance that judges are encroaching upon legislative or executive space, it adds weight—and danger—to the narrative. It signals that this isn’t just an MP feeling free to air his opinion; it’s a campaign with institutional heft. When the vice president amplifies doubts about the judiciary’s domain, he is not defending separation of powers—he is redefining it.

The Court’s ruling on governors—do not sit on bills indefinitely—was modest. It upheld the spirit of federalism. Yet even this was met with institutional backlash, not just individual outrage. Evidently any assertion of constitutional discipline is now painted as a threat. Whenever the Supreme Court pushes back—on electoral bonds, the unchecked powers of central agencies or governors delaying state legislation—someone close to the ruling regime steps up to express outrage. The court is attacked as an institution of questionable characters, recommended by nepotistic collegiums. These are not isolated outbursts; they are stress tests. And they fit the larger strategy—discredit, distract, dominate.

The method is as old as authoritarian instinct: test the limits, provoke a response, turn the institution into the villain. If the judiciary reacts—say, with contempt proceedings—it is painted as thin-skinned and elitist. If it stays silent, it is seen as weak. Either way, the heckler wins. And if the attacks succeed, the consequences are chilling. Courts don’t need to be shut down to be neutralised. They just need to be doubted. When the referee is discredited, no one trusts the result of the game. That’s where we are headed. And Dubey’s speech, with its reckless invocation of “civil war”, crosses from irresponsible into dangerous. It doesn’t just challenge the Bench, it incites the street. We have seen this before.

In 1975, courts were bent into submission. The Emergency showed us what happens when the judiciary bows to political power. And when it does not? It is branded, as it is today, as anarchist, activist or anti-national. This isn’t about one MP. It’s about a larger design. The real target is judicial independence. Dubey is just the frontman, a battering ram sent forward to test the doors. So what must be done?

The Attorney General must act—not out of vengeance, but in defence of institutional integrity. The line between criticism and incitement has been crossed. The law must respond, but with restraint. Judges must also step into the public square when possible—not to politicise, but to explain. The Constitution is not a secret manuscript. It belongs to the people. And it’s time the people heard, in plain words, why judicial review exists, and why checks and balances are the lifeblood of a republic. The Opposition in Parliament cannot stay mute either. It must table resolutions condemning such attacks and demand accountability. A silent legislature becomes an accomplice. And citizens? Our vigilance is the last line of defence. Lawyers, journalists, students—speak up! Share facts. Refute lies.

Remind this country that in 1977, we reclaimed democracy from the jaws of authoritarianism. If needed, we’ll do it again. Dubey asked: “Who judges the judges?” We do. In courtrooms. In public discourse. At the ballot box. But not with threats. Not with slurs. Not with the intent to dismantle what has held since 1950. The judiciary isn’t perfect. But when politicians sharpen their knives, judges must reach for the Constitution. Because if they don’t, the pillars fall.

And when the pillars fall, the roof comes down on all of us. It is no longer a question whether this is part of a pattern—it is. The only question now is: will the Court retreat into its shell—or will it remind the nation why it stands a little taller than the rest?

Sanjay Hegde is a Senior Advocate in the Supreme Court of India