Editorial

Justice Surya Kant assumes office today as the 51st Chief Justice of India, beginning a concise yet crucial 15-month term that will conclude on February 9, 2027. His elevation comes at a moment when the judiciary faces complex constitutional questions, rising public scrutiny, and the urgent need to reinforce institutional credibility. Justice Kant’s tenure, though brief, carries the weight of shaping the Court’s moral and legal direction in a period marked by polarised politics and expanding executive power.

Over the years, Justice Kant has been part of several landmark judgments that reflect both his constitutional clarity and administrative sensitivity. His role in the Article 370 decision, which upheld the Union government’s move to reorganise Jammu & Kashmir, showcased a judicial philosophy that balances federal considerations with national security perspectives. In contrast, his stance on the Bihar electoral roll revision case reflected his insistence that electoral processes must remain transparent and insulated from executive overreach—an issue vital to democratic integrity.

What distinguishes Justice Kant is not only his legal reasoning but also his reputation for accessibility, fairness, and attention to procedural justice. At a time when accusations of judicial delay, pendency, and opacity are widespread, his leadership style will be closely watched. The Supreme Court is burdened with over 80,000 pending cases, and citizens increasingly see the Court as the final refuge for rights and liberties—from internet shutdowns to environmental degradation, from social welfare disputes to political disqualifications. Justice Kant inherits not merely an institution, but the hopes of a nation.

His tenure arrives amid debates over judicial appointments, the independence of tribunals, and the proposed restructuring of the higher judiciary. The CJI’s task is not only to deliver judgments but also to safeguard the institution’s autonomy. Ensuring that the collegium system functions transparently, accelerating digitisation of court processes, and strengthening lower courts will require firm administrative resolve.

Justice Surya Kant’s term may be short, but moments of historical consequence often unfold in short windows. The next 15 months will demand a Chief Justice who is calm in crises, bold in constitutional matters, and unwavering in defending judicial independence. If he succeeds, his legacy will endure well beyond February 2027—etched not just in law reports, but in the strengthening of India’s democratic foundations.

Today, after 1,977 days behind bars, Umar Khalid finally stands before the Supreme Court. The former JNU scholar, accused in the “larger conspiracy” behind the 2020 Delhi riots, seeks bail under a law that has quietly become the graveyard of Article 21. The Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), with its inverted burden of proof and near-impossible bail threshold, has ensured that for Khalid and many others, investigation is punishment and trial is a distant mirage.

The prosecution’s case rests on WhatsApp chats, speeches about Gandhi and Ambedkar, and the now-infamous “toolkit” narrative that collapsed in court when co-accused revealed police pressure. Yet the Delhi High Court twice denied bail, citing “terrorist act” on the flimsiest inferences. Khalid’s prolonged incarceration without trial violates every principle the Supreme Court itself laid down in K.A. Najeeb (2021): when statutory restrictions become unconstitutional because of endless delay, bail must follow. This is no longer about Khalid alone. It is about a pattern. As of 2024, over 5,000 remain in jail under UAPA, many without charge sheets for years. Stan Swamy died waiting. Safoora Zargar delivered her child in custody. The message is clear: dissent, especially Muslim dissent framed as “urban Naxal” or “anti-national,” can be criminalised indefinitely.

The bench hearing Khalid today has a historic opportunity. Grant bail, and it will signal that no law, however stringent, can override the Constitution’s guarantee of speedy justice. Deny it, and the Court will legitimise a system where the process itself is the punishment, where bail is not the rule but the exception for the “wrong” kind of accused.

Five years is not investigation; it is vengeance wearing the mask of law. Umar Khalid’s fate today will tell us whether India’s highest court still believes that personal liberty is the rule, and its deprivation the rare exception, or whether we have quietly accepted a new normal where some citizens are more “dangerous” than evidence can ever prove.

The courtroom clock is ticking. So is justice.

As the curtains fall on COP30 in Belém, Brazil, the Amazon’s humid air still echoes with the sharp resonance of India’s unapologetic voice. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in a post-summit address that has gone viral, didn’t mince words: “Don’t expect us to fill your failures.” It’s a gut-punch to the developed world, a reminder that the Global South won’t subsidize the North’s historical sins. Amid the tropical downpours, India emerged not as a supplicant, but as a sentinel for equity, slamming unmet promises while charting a pragmatic path for fossil fuel transitions. This wasn’t diplomacy; it was a declaration of intent.

COP30, hosted under Brazil’s inclusive “Mutirão” spirit, delivered incremental wins that India hailed as milestones. Foremost was the Just Transition Mechanism—a framework to ensure low-carbon shifts don’t crush vulnerable economies. New Delhi called it a “significant step” toward operationalizing climate justice, blending global solidarity with national realities. India also welcomed advances in adaptation finance, recognizing the urgent need to shield billions from floods, droughts, and heatwaves that disproportionately batter the developing world. Union Environment Minister Bhupender Yadav, speaking for BASIC nations (Brazil, South Africa, India, China), urged COP30 to become the “COP of adaptation,” where finance and technology are rights, not charity. Yet, beneath the applause lurks a chasm: adaptation funding must surge 15-fold to meet needs, and the 2025 pledge to double it remains a mirage.

India’s roadmap for fossil fuels is a masterclass in balanced ambition. Committed to net-zero by 2070, the nation showcased its green strides: solar capacity exploding to 100 GW, electric vehicles proliferating, and initiatives like the International Solar Alliance galvanizing global action. But Modi was clear—transition can’t mean throttling growth for a billion-plus aspiring middle class. “Trillions, not billions,” Yadav echoed, demanding scaled-up climate finance from the rich, who guzzle 80% of the carbon budget while lecturing on austerity. The summit nodded to curbing unilateral trade barriers, like the EU’s carbon border tax that slaps tariffs on Indian steel and cement, violating CBDR-RC principles. India warned these “disguised restrictions” erode trust, and COP30’s acknowledgment is a fragile first crack in the facade.

The gains are real but razor-thin. New funds like the Tropical Forests Forever Facility promise results-based payments for conservation, aligning with India’s mangrove restoration drives. Yet, as 2025 floods displaced 160,000 Indians, the irony stings: we’re adapting to a crisis we didn’t create, while drying up our own National Adaptation Fund for Climate Change due to fiscal squeezes. Modi’s salvo isn’t bluster; it’s a blueprint. Developed nations must honor $100 billion annually in finance, phase out subsidies propping fossil dinosaurs, and co-create tech transfers without patents as moats.

In Belém’s shadow, COP30 signals a pivot: from fossil-fueled hypocrisy to equitable action. India, with its youth dividend and resilient spirit, leads by example—proving development and ecology aren’t foes. But without accountability, Modi’s words risk becoming prophecy: the Global South won’t plug the gaps; we’ll bridge them on our terms. The clock ticks; justice delayed is justice denied. Time for the North to pay up, or watch the South rise alone.

• SAS Kirmani