I write not as a detached commentator but as an alumnus of the National Law School, one of many who owe to that institution whatever we understand of the law, and who feel a particular disquiet when its name is drawn into a controversy of this kind. When students of NLSIU Bangalore and NALSAR Hyderabad raised their voices in recent weeks, and alumni felt compelled to say plainly that respect must be earned and cannot merely be demanded, it was not out of disloyalty to the institutions we cherish, but out of loyalty to what they are meant to stand for.
The particulars must be stated with care, for the two universities are not governed alike. At NLSIU Bangalore the Chief Justice of India is, by statute, the Visitor and de facto Chancellor, and the Chairman of the Bar Council of India presides over its General Council. At NALSAR Hyderabad the Chancellor is the Chief Justice of the State High Court, and the Chief Justice of India was invited as chief guest. What the two share is the structural presence of the Bar Council of India within their governing bodies. That is what lends the enrolment directive its peculiar character: when a body woven into the governance of these universities threatens the enrolment of an entire graduating batch, we are not watching a quarrel with outsiders, but universities and the functionaries connected to their own governance speaking to one another—with the whole country listening.
That is why the language matters. For every student, and every parent who watched a son or daughter walk up to receive a degree, a convocation is not a routine ceremony but a monumental day in an academic life, one a family remembers long after the certificate has yellowed. To reduce it to a contest of egos, or to let it become the theatre of institutional displeasure, is to wound something that ought to have been protected. The dignity of that day belongs to the students and their families, not to those who preside over it.
Why the Language of Public Office Is Different
An office of authority is not a private platform; it is a trust held on behalf of the people, and that has consequences for language. The same sentence spoken by an ordinary citizen and by a person in high office does not land with the same weight. When a judge or a regulator speaks, the words are received as the voice of the institution. An ordinary person may speak impulsively and the damage is usually confined; the office magnifies both the reach and the effect of an official’s words. The higher the office, the sharper this asymmetry, and the greater the duty of care. A careless word from the seat of authority can wound reputations, alienate whole communities, and diminish public confidence in ways no later clarification fully repairs.
What the Values of Judicial Life Require
This is not a novel standard; it is one the judiciary set for itself. In the Restatement of Values of Judicial Life, adopted by the Supreme Court in full court on 7 May 1997, the very first principle affirms that justice must not merely be done but be seen to be done, and that any act of a judge which erodes the credibility of that perception must be avoided; its concluding value reminds every judge that he is at all times under the public gaze. A code that binds judges to preserve public confidence in their impartiality cannot sit comfortably with language from the Bench that leaves a citizen, a profession, or a class of persons feeling degraded before the court. Restraint in speech, though not spelt out as a separate rule, is the natural corollary of a standard the judiciary has accepted as part of its office.
The Fragility of Institutional Credibility
The point acquires sharper authority from the Court’s own words. In Chief Election Commissioner of India v. M.R. Vijayabhaskar (2021), arising from oral observations of a High Court that were reported though never part of any order, the Supreme Court held that language is an important instrument of the judicial process and must, both on the Bench and in judgments, comport with judicial propriety. It restated a principle long settled in our law: adverse or personal remarks against parties, officials, or judicial officers should be avoided unless strictly necessary for the decision and supported by material on the record. An oral remark carries no legal force, yet it can injure an institution and unsettle public confidence, precisely because words spoken from authority are heard as the institution speaking.
The judiciary commands neither the purse nor the sword; its authority rests on reasoned judgment and the credibility it inspires, shaped as much by tone as by outcome. When judicial speech appears contemptuous toward activists, journalists, or litigants, the immediate legal result may be nil, yet the institutional cost is substantial. Those who already regard the system as remote conclude that their grievances will not be heard with patience; public debate drifts from the merits of a case to the temperament of an institution—and that quiet drift is how credibility is lost. None of this asks that judges be robotic. Hearings necessarily involve questioning and persuasion; the line lies between robust engagement with an argument and language dismissive of the dignity of the person advancing it. A courtroom may be adversarial; constitutional authority should not be.
Student Dissent Is Not Institutional Disloyalty
The students’ reaction deserves to be seen in its constitutional setting, not dismissed as youthful excess. Students of law are future advocates, judges and public servants, trained to engage with public power; the right to peaceful protest is part of democratic citizenship, and the Supreme Court’s reported observation affirming it is significant. Students can be mistaken, but disagreement with their conduct cannot justify collective professional retaliation. Withholding enrolment from an entire graduating class strikes at the heart of professional autonomy: enrolment is not a favour bestowed for ideological compliance but a legal gateway governed by statutory standards and fair procedure. That the directive issued from a body already built into the governance of these universities only deepens the concern, for it blurs the line between governing an institution and disciplining those who study within it. The apology and withdrawal were welcome, but cannot by themselves cure the lesson: public bodies should not act first in indignation and explain later under pressure.
Restraint Is Strength, and the Approach That Follows
Restraint is often mistaken for weakness; it is a form of strength appropriate to power. The more elevated the office, the greater the obligation to distinguish criticism that demands a response from criticism best met with silence or reason. For judges, the country expects patience alongside firmness, and language that is precise, avoids epithets, and never lets momentary irritation become institutional messaging. For senior members of the Bar, the expectation is principled independence—a refusal to treat every criticism of an institution as an attack upon it, for institutions are not weakened by fair criticism but by their inability to tolerate it.
Earning Respect, Not Demanding It
The deeper significance of these episodes lies in a truth the alumni have voiced for a wider constituency: authority commands greater respect precisely when it does not demand that respect anxiously. India’s constitutional institutions remain strong not because they are beyond criticism, but because they can hear criticism without fear and correct themselves without humiliation. Dignified language is the everyday currency in which public trust is either honoured or squandered. When those who hold high office speak with accuracy, avoid labels that degrade citizens, and hear the affected before they act, they do not diminish their authority; they confirm it. In a constitutional democracy, restraint is not silence and authority is not anger. The finest institutions are those that exercise power with confidence, receive dissent with equanimity, and preserve the dignity of every person who comes within their reach. That is how respect is earned, and the only way it is ever truly kept.
(Views expressed by the columnist are personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinion or policy of the news portal)