A secular republic’s sacrilege problem

Punjab's recent enactment of a stringent sacrilege law marks a significant moment in India's constitutional journey, rekindling the age-old tension between religious sentiments and free expression in a secular republic. The legislative trigger traces back to a series of sacrilege incidents in Punjab between 2015-2017, particularly the desecration of the Guru Granth Sahib at Bargari in Faridkot district, which sparked massive protests and political upheaval. The previous Congress government had attempted to amend Section 295-A of the Indian Penal Code (IPC) in 2018 to introduce life imprisonment for sacrilege against the Guru Granth Sahib, but the bill lapsed. The current Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) government, leveraging its overwhelming mandate, passed the Punjab Sacrilege Bill, 2024, which received Presidential assent in August 2024, becoming the Punjab Sacrilege Act, 2024. The law's most contentious feature is its expansive definition of sacrilege under Section 2(c), which extends beyond physical desecration to include "words, either spoken or written, or by signs, or by visible representation, or otherwise." This brings expressive conduct — speeches, writings, artistic depictions, social media posts — within penal scope, punishable with life imprisonment and fine. The key stakeholders are manifold: the Punjab government arguing for protection of Sikh religious sentiments as a core state obligation; civil liberties groups and legal scholars warning of a "heckler's veto" where any expression can be criminalised if it offends a religious group; the Centre, which must navigate Centre-State legislative relations under Article 254; and the judiciary, which will inevitably test this law against the constitutional anvil. Constitutionally, the Act raises profound questions. Article 19(1)(a) guarantees freedom of speech and expression, while Article 19(2) permits "reasonable restrictions" on grounds including "public order" and "decency or morality." The Supreme Court in Ramji Lal Modi v. State of UP (1957) upheld Section 295-A IPC as a reasonable restriction, but emphasized it must punish only acts with "deliberate and malicious intention" of outraging religious feelings. In Superintendent, Central Prison, Fatehgarh v. Ram Manohar Lohia (1960), the Court distinguished between "public order" and mere "law and order," setting a high threshold. Punjab's law, by removing the "malicious intent" requirement and encompassing mere "words, signs, representations," risks failing this proportionality test. Moreover, Article 25 guarantees freedom of conscience and religion, but subject to public order, morality, and health — the State cannot privilege one religion's sensitivities over others' expressive freedoms. The significance for India is multifold. Politically, it signals competitive populism where states legislate on religious offence to consolidate vote banks — Haryana and other states may follow suit. Socially, it risks weaponising law against minorities, dissenters, artists, and historians; the 2015-17 Punjab incidents themselves saw allegations of political misuse. Economically, such laws deter creative industries and academic freedom. In Centre-State relations, the law tests the "repugnancy" doctrine under Article 254 — since criminal law is in the Concurrent List (Entry 1, List III), Punjab's law prevails only if it received Presidential assent (which it did), but its constitutional validity remains challengeable. Broader themes include the evolving jurisprudence on "hate speech" vs. "free speech," the role of colonial-era laws like Section 295-A in a modern democracy, and the Supreme Court's pending decisions on similar issues (e.g., the challenge to Section 295-A itself). Future implications are stark: if upheld, we may see a patchwork of state-level blasphemy laws, each protecting dominant local religions, fracturing India's expressive space. If struck down, it reaffirms that in a secular republic, the State cannot police theological boundaries. For aspirants, this case study encapsulates the living Constitution — where Articles 19, 25, 254, and the Preamble's "secular" promise collide in real-time legislative action.