Picture this: a sitting High Court judge names 20 judges of the Indian judiciary, accusing

them of corruption. The system doesn’t investigate those names. Instead, it sends him to
jail. No inquiry. No probe. Just silence.”

That’s not fiction. That’s the story of Justice C.S. Karnan. A judge who, in 2017, made
headlines not for interpreting the Constitution — but for challenging the very integrity of the
judiciary. He was erratic, certainly. Maybe even irresponsible. But he raised a fundamental
question:

Who holds the judiciary accountable?

This question is at the heart of India’s judicial crisis today — and why reforms like the
National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC) matter so much.

In the next few minutes, let’s unpack the flaws of the current system, the debate over
executive involvement, and what must change to restore the people's faith in the courts
of this country.

🧑‍⚖️ [Part 1: The Case for Reform – 2 minutes]

Let’s begin with the obvious: the judiciary in India holds enormous power.

• It can overturn legislation.

• It can direct governments.
• It can even decide the fate of elections.

But with power must come transparency. Unfortunately, the Indian judiciary is one of the
least transparent institutions in the democratic framework.

Take the Collegium system. It’s how we currently appoint judges to the High Courts and
Supreme Court. Here’s how it works:

• A group of senior judges recommends names.

• The government either clears them — or sends them back once.
• After that, it must accept the names.

There are no interviews. No minutes of meetings. No reasons published. Just five men in
a closed room, deciding who will interpret the Constitution for the next 30 years.
Even the Justice Verma Committee, formed post-Nirbhaya, criticized this opacity.

That’s where the NJAC came in.

In 2014, Parliament passed the 99th Constitutional Amendment to establish the National
Judicial Appointments Commission. It would include:

• The Chief Justice of India

• Two senior-most judges
• The Law Minister
• Two eminent persons (nominated by a panel including the PM, CJI, and Leader of
Opposition)

This was seen as a historic chance to democratize judicial appointments. It had near-
unanimous support in Parliament and was ratified by 20 state legislatures.

But just a year later, in 2015, the Supreme Court struck it down as unconstitutional,
arguing it violated the “basic structure” — the principle of judicial independence.

That ruling reopened a painful dilemma:

How do we protect the courts from executive overreach, without letting them become
an unaccountable elite?

⚖️ [Part 2: Balancing Powers – 2.5 minutes]

Let’s be clear — executive interference in judicial appointments is a real threat.

We’ve seen it in countries like Turkey and Poland, where ruling governments stacked
courts with loyalists and demolished dissent.

But India faces the opposite danger too:

A judiciary that is so insulated, so inward-looking, that it loses public trust.

Remember the Karnan case? Whatever his faults, his accusations of corruption deserved
a probe. Instead, the Supreme Court cited contempt of court and sent him to jail —
without a trial. They became judge, jury, and executioner.

Let’s not forget Justice Ramaswamy, the only judge to face near-impeachment in 1993.
The motion failed, and he continued to serve.
Ask yourself: if a judge is corrupt, what real mechanism exists to hold him accountable?

Now compare this with executive overreach — say, the sealed-cover jurisprudence during
the Rafale case or the Pegasus snooping controversy, where the Court deferred action
despite compelling evidence.

This dance between judicial aloofness and executive evasion creates a dangerous
vacuum — where neither is fully accountable, and the people are caught in the middle.

We need balance. Not domination. That’s why reforms like NJAC — or a revised version of
it — must be reimagined.

🔧 [Part 3: The Way Forward – 1 minute]

So what can we do?

1. Revive a Modified NJAC: With strong independence safeguards — like fixed tenure
for eminent persons, mandatory disclosures, and parliamentary oversight.
2. Establish a National Judicial Oversight Body: Independent of both government
and judiciary — to investigate corruption and misconduct.
3. Make the Collegium Transparent: Publish meeting minutes. Provide reasons for
appointments and rejections.
4. Strengthen Pre-Appointment Scrutiny: Include public consultations or at least a
closed-door ethics committee.

Remember — transparency is not the enemy of independence. It is its greatest ally.

🎬 [Conclusion – 1 minute]

To question the judiciary is not to weaken democracy. It is to protect it.

The Supreme Court called NJAC a violation of the Constitution’s basic structure. But what
about transparency? Accountability? Public trust?

A judge once said, “Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.”
But justice doesn’t live in lofty pronouncements. It lives in how we choose judges, how
we scrutinize their actions, and how we ensure that no one — not even the courts —
are above the Constitution.

Thank you.

🏛 National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC): A Constitutional

Dilemma

The National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC) was introduced through the 99th
Constitutional Amendment in 2014 as a bold attempt to reform the opaque and insular
collegium system of judicial appointments. The NJAC proposed a more inclusive structure
comprising six members: the Chief Justice of India (as Chairperson), two senior-most
judges of the Supreme Court, the Union Law Minister, and two eminent persons chosen by
a committee consisting of the Prime Minister, the Chief Justice, and the Leader of
Opposition. This model sought to create a more transparent, accountable, and
representative process for appointing judges to the higher judiciary.

Supporters of the NJAC argue that the collegium system lacks institutional transparency,
public accountability, and democratic legitimacy. Appointments are made behind closed
doors, without clear criteria or reasoned justifications, and with no mechanism for
independent scrutiny or dissent. The NJAC was viewed as a necessary corrective — one
that would strike a balance between judicial independence and democratic oversight. It
aimed to open the judicial ivory tower to broader inputs, potentially increasing diversity,
curbing nepotism, and aligning the judiciary more closely with constitutional morality and
public expectations. The fact that the amendment was passed with near-unanimous
support in Parliament and ratified by a majority of states underscored its popular and
political legitimacy.

However, critics — primarily from within the judiciary — opposed the NJAC on the grounds
that it would compromise the independence of the judiciary, a principle held to be part of
the Constitution’s basic structure. They expressed concern that executive participation in
appointments could lead to subtle political interference and the appointment of
ideologically aligned judges, thereby eroding the judiciary’s role as a check on majoritarian
excesses. The ambiguity around the qualifications and selection of the “eminent persons”
raised further alarm about potential politicization. In the landmark 2015 judgment
(Supreme Court Advocates-on-Record Association v. Union of India), a Constitution Bench
of the Supreme Court struck down the NJAC, reaffirming the primacy of the collegium and
emphasizing that judicial independence cannot be diluted, even with democratic approval.

Thus, the NJAC debate embodies a fundamental constitutional tension: how to balance
the independence of the judiciary with the need for accountability in a constitutional
democracy. While the collegium preserves judicial autonomy, it does so at the cost of
public confidence, transparency, and external checks. Conversely, the NJAC model risks
diluting institutional integrity in pursuit of openness. Any future reform must navigate this
delicate balance — one that safeguards judicial independence while restoring public trust
through mechanisms that are transparent, participatory, and constitutionally sound

QUESTIONS
Q1: Why did you choose the Justice Karnan case as your opening example? Isn’t it too
sensationalist?

A1: The Karnan case isn’t just dramatic — it’s revealing. It exposed the cracks in judicial
accountability mechanisms. For the first time, a sitting High Court judge was sentenced by
the Supreme Court for contempt, yet there was no formal inquiry under the Judges (Inquiry)
Act before that. The case forces us to ask: how do we address misconduct within the
judiciary if the existing framework allows judges to shield one another from scrutiny? It
became a powerful symbol of the need for systemic, not just individual, reform.

Q2: Isn’t the Karnan case an outlier? Should we reform an entire system for one incident?

A2: While it may seem like an outlier, it's symptomatic of a broader issue — the judiciary’s
resistance to external accountability. When mechanisms to address allegations of
impropriety are internal and opaque, even one extreme case can indicate deep
institutional failings. Reforms aren’t about one judge; they’re about ensuring no judge,
regardless of position, is above constitutional scrutiny.

Q3: How can we reform judicial appointments without compromising judicial

independence?

A3: The solution lies not in swinging the pendulum entirely toward the executive or the
judiciary, but in designing neutral, transparent mechanisms. For example, a reformed
version of NJAC could include members from civil society, legal academia, and retired
judges — with transparent criteria, fixed tenures, and clear veto powers. The idea isn’t to
weaken judicial autonomy, but to democratize the process of who gets to wield judicial
power.

Q4: Isn’t the collegium system a safeguard against majoritarian politics?

A4: That’s one of its strongest arguments — and historically, the collegium has insulated
the judiciary from direct political pressure. However, insulation has become isolation. A
closed-door process without reasons, minutes, or criteria makes it hard to distinguish
independence from unaccountability. Protecting judges from political influence shouldn’t
mean protecting them from institutional transparency or public scrutiny.

Q5: The judiciary itself struck down NJAC. Doesn’t that prove it can correct itself?

A5: It proves the judiciary has a strong instinct for self-preservation, but not necessarily for
self-correction. The same judgment that struck down NJAC acknowledged that the
collegium system was flawed — yet nearly a decade later, the reforms it promised have
been largely procedural, not structural. True self-correction requires the judiciary to
welcome independent oversight, not just internal tinkering.

Q6: What kind of reforms — beyond NJAC — do you think are urgently needed?

A6: Several. Firstly, a Judicial Appointments Commission 2.0 — revised to meet the
Supreme Court’s concerns. Secondly, an independent complaints and oversight authority
for judicial conduct, outside the executive and judiciary. Thirdly, mandatory public
disclosure of reasons for appointments, rejections, and transfers. Lastly, time-bound
delivery of judgments and live-streaming court proceedings to build public trust. Reform
must address both who becomes a judge and how a judge functions.

Q7: If both executive interference and judicial opacity are problems, how do we find the
right balance?

A7: By returning to constitutional first principles — separation of powers, checks and

balances, and democratic legitimacy. No one organ of the state should monopolize power.
The goal is a structure where the judiciary is independent in decision-making, but not
immune to scrutiny in appointments and conduct. The balance comes from creating
institutions that are collaborative in design but bounded in power — no black boxes, no
arbitrary vetoes.

Q8: What would you say to someone who believes that judicial reform threatens
democracy?

A8: I would say: a democracy that cannot question its judges is already in danger. Reform
is not the enemy of democracy; unchecked power is. Whether in Parliament or the Court,
concentration of power breeds complacency. The question is not whether we should
reform, but how we do it — responsibly, cautiously, and constitutionally.