When the history of our times is written, a paramount marker of Narendra Modi’s first term in office as India’s prime minister would be of the lynch mob. In his second term lynching did not ebb, but with it surged sometimes genocidal hate speech and the bulldozer transformed into a weapon of lawless state terror targeting India’s Muslim citizens.
After Uttar Pradesh’s combative Chief Minister Adityanath first weaponised the bulldozer to destroy, in a loop, the properties and the morale of Muslim citizens, other Bharatiya Janata Party chief ministers, in Madhya Pradesh, Haryana, Uttarakhand and Assam, emulated him. Bulldozers also smashed Muslim properties in Delhi, a state in which the police are directly controlled by the Union government.
The bulldozer fast grew into a symbol of decisive masculinist governance untrammelled by constitutional and legal niceties in the necessary war against Indian Muslims. Young men tattooed bulldozers on their arms and flaunted bulldozers on their T-shirts and caps. Bulldozers front-ended triumphalist election rallies. The demolitions were often sites of frenzied festivity, with dancing onlookers and loud celebratory music.
For the record, municipal and district officials would usually claim that bulldozers were rolled in to destroy homes only in routine drives against unlawful encroachments. They would not explain why only some properties were targeted while hundreds of others in the vicinity with the same contested legality were untouched. Hiding as they did behind back-dated notices, they also would not explain the suddenness of the demolitions, why these immediately followed communal skirmishes or protests by Muslims.
But political leaders were mostly much more candid. They gloated that they sent out bulldozers to extend exemplary and immediate punishment to wrong-doers. In 2022, after many Muslim properties were razed in Khargone following a skirmish in Khargone, Madhya Pradesh Home Minister Narottam Mishra for instance boasted, “Jis ghar se patthar aaye hain, us ghar ko pattharon ka hi ghar banayenge.” Whichever homes were involved in stone pelting, we will turn into piles of stones. Chief ministers would throw words like “rioters”, “criminals” and “mafia” to signal proudly that their targets were Muslims who needed to be suppressed and tamed.
The pattern of many demolitions was for Hindu religious processions to stop outside mosques, with men dancing feverishly to blaring loud music, H-Pop songs that insulted and abused Muslims and their faith. This would spark off a communal skirmish. After only a day or two, bulldozers would arrive to raze the properties of men who the police and local administration deemed to be responsible for violence. Hindu instigators and participants in the violence were never so punished.
Another frequent situation was when Muslims spilled on to the streets to protest either public insults to the Prophet or the demolition of mosques or mazaars. Bulldozers would be deployed to lay waste the homes of persons whom the police and administration regarded as leaders and participants in the protests.
In these hasty performative demolitions, sometimes demolished properties were not even built or owned by the persons the state wished to target. In one instance, the local administration claimed that they had reason to believe that the man they sought to punish had invested partly in the home they peremptorily tore down.
In one recent instance in Udaipur, the home of a Muslim man was demolished after his minor son stabbed to death a batchmate. In another instance, in Ujjain, the home of a Muslim boy was torn down after it was alleged that he spat in the direction of a Hindu religious procession – two witnesses later told the Madhya Pradesh High Court that the police made them sign blank documents.
Each of these state actions unapologetically and defiantly violated all established principles of natural justice. There is no law in India’s statute books that empower the state to demolish the properties of a person guilty of a crime. And to establish that a person is indeed culpable, the burden vests with the state to collect evidence of the person’s guilt and to present this in a court of law. Even if the trial court finds a person guilty, they have the chance to appeal to the High Court and then the Supreme Court. If found guilty by courts at all these levels, a person can be punished but only by ways that are prescribed in the statutes.
And apart from all of this, the state is constitutionally barred from targeting and discriminating between citizens on grounds of their religious identity. The bulldozer in BJP-ruled states in Modi’s India defy this: bulldozers have metamorphosised into weapons of state assault on a segment of the country’s citizens.
Through all of this, India’s highest courts have chosen culpably to look away. They have done nothing to restrain or punish state actions that defiantly violated constitutional safeguards and the elementary principles of the rule of law. As a highly regarded retired judge of the Supreme Court Madan Lokur asks: “Under what provision can (the administration) demolish their house for an offence which hasn’t been proved?”
The one time this lamentable judicial silence was broken during these four years since 2020 when the bulldozer emerged as the paramount BJP instrument for dispensing “justice” was when in August 2023, bulldozers razed hundreds of properties in Nuh in Haryana and in settlements within a 50-kilometre range for four days.
Two judges of the Punjab and Haryana High Court, Justices Sandhiwalia and Harpreet Kaur, took suo moto notice of the devastation being wrought by government bulldozers and asked appositely if “buildings belong to a particular community are being brought down in … an exercise of ethnic cleansing … conducted by the State”. They declared unequivocally that “the Constitution of India protects the citizens of India and no demolitions as such can be done without following the procedure established by law.” The Haryana government replied predictably that all lawful procedures had been followed by the state. But then the case was shifted to be heard by another set of judges, and the matter rested there.
For the rest, sometimes High Courts ordered halts to demolitions but only after significant destruction of properties had occurred. No officials were punished or even upbraided by the courts for their lawless and unconstitutional actions, nor political leaders for their public statements defending this malign and unlawful targeting of sections of citizens.
It is natural, therefore, to feel a sense of relief when, even if highly belatedly, a judge of the Supreme Court Justice BR Gavai enunciated what he said was an obvious “position of law”. Hearing a bunch of petitions challenging the official recourse to bulldozers in some states, he asked, “How can anybody’s house be demolished only because he is an accused? Even if he is a convict, it can’t be done without following the procedure as prescribed by law”.
Solicitor General Tushar Mehta claimed that there was an attempt to build a “narrative” that a specific community is being targeted. Justice Viswanathan reassured him that “outside noise (is) not influencing us” and “we won’t get into the question of… which community… at this point”. But I cannot understand how courts will address this form of state misuse of bulldozers if they do not acknowledge that these are being used mainly to target a particular community.
The relief proposed by the court is disappointingly limited. The court aims “to lay down certain guidelines on a pan-India basis so that the concerns with regard to the issues raised are taken care of”. There have been for decades guidelines for demolitions, prescribing sufficient notice of at least 30 days before the demolition and advance rehabilitation, but these have done little to restrain peremptory demolitions executed routinely around the country with no concern for law or the display of public compassion. To make matters worse, the current spate of punitive demolitions not only victimise the informal urban poor, but highly disproportionately target people of a particular religious identity.
Just days after the Supreme Court described these targeted demolitions as unlawful, Adityanath reiterated his resolve and his pride in his resort to “bulldozer justice”. Addressing a group of newly appointed government officials in Lucknow, he boasted with a sneer to loud applause, “Not everyone’s hands can fit on a bulldozer. Iske liye dil aur dimaag dono chaiye. Bulldozer jaisi shramta aur drid pratigya jis mein ho, wohi bulldozer chala sakta hain (One needs both heart and mind for this. Only those who have the capability and determination of a bulldozer can use a bulldozer. Those who rub their noses (surrender) before rioters, will become dispirited by just the sight of a bulldozer.” “Rioters” in Adityanath’s lexicon are obviously Indian Muslims.
His political adversary Akhilesh Yadav decried his selective use of bulldozers to “instil fear” and to “demean” people on the back of state power, “arrogance” and vindictiveness.
When an unrepentant Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Adityanath boasted that he has the dil (heart) and dimaag (mind) as tough as a bulldozer to demolish people’s homes without regard to constitutional protections and the process of law, I resolved to dive deep down into one instance of punitive targeted demolitions to understand what consequences this defiant state lawlessness actually has on the lives of ordinary people.
I spoke with Mohammad Jawed in his daughter’s home, a small apartment in Jamia Nagar in New Delhi. Jawed used to market pumps, and was a respected community leader and member of the Welfare Party. He now had no home in his name. His double-storeyed house in Allahabad – now Prayagraj – was torn down and with it much of his life’s savings destroyed. He had spent 21 months in jail, with eight criminal charges and preventive detention. The judges did not find any convincing evidence that he indeed had committed the crimes that he was charged with, and released him on March 16, 2024.
I met him just weeks after his release, and then again more recently. He was anguished but not broken. His spirited daughter was still angry.
The spark that ignited the fire that consumed his home and 21 months of his life was lit by some demeaning remarks insulting the Prophet Mohammad by BJP National Spokesperson Nupur Sharma in a television debate on Times Now on May 27, 2022. The recordings of her comments were circulated widely on social media, and stirred outrage and protests by Muslims in many parts of the country. The first of these were protests in Kanpur in Uttar Pradesh on June 3 after the Friday prayers. The police dispersed the crowds and arrested many people. But the fires spread to many parts of the country, including Ranchi, Howrah, Bhiwandi and Udaipur, where stones were thrown and people were killed in police firings and hate attacks.
In Prayagraj, Jawed Mohammad was angered by the one-sided police action in Kanpur. He wrote on Facebook: “Why did the Kanpur violence occur? Why does the state government not investigate the real disease? Until when will people like Nupur Sharma and Yati Narsinghanand make obscene remarks against the Prophet Muhammad and the government and police will be quiet…”
After the Friday prayers in Prayagraj the next week on June 10, 2022, protestors gathered in large numbers. Some young men threw stones, but the police quickly dispersed the crowd with a minimal use of force. Mohammad Jawed was not among the protestors. He even put up a Facebook post asking people to disperse peacefully. He appealed to Muslims not to gather after Friday prayers and instead to go home and pray that harmony, peace and love would prevail.
However, the police rounded him up later that evening with around 125 other men. They were all forced to sit on the floor at the police lines the whole night. The next morning, Jawed says that a senior police officer hit him, asked him to lick his chappal and accused him of a jihadi mindset. Many of the other men were also badly beaten and tortured. No one gave them food or even water to drink.
That night they were driven to the Naini Jail. Some who were badly injured and bleeding because of the police violence, and Jawed whose blood pressure had soared, were admitted to the jail hospital.
In the hospital ward stood a large television. He heard news reports that described him as the “mastermind” of the Friday protests. And then on Sunday morning, he watched – stunned and heartbroken – as images poured in of bulldozers razing his home.
Unknown to him, his wife and daughter too had been detained through the earlier night. The next morning, the police released them but instructed that they should not go to their home. Instead, they dropped them at the home of some relatives. They too watched on television a few hours later as their home was brought down by bulldozers.
The two-storeyed house and the land on which it stood was in the name of Mohammad Jawed’s wife Parveen Fatima. If the house was being demolished to punish Jawed for his alleged role in the Friday protests, it mattered little to the administration that the house was not even his. The municipal authorities claimed that the house was illegally built, and that they had sent a notice on May 25. This the family stoutly denied. The officials pasted a notice only the night before on the door of the house, after all the residents of the house had been detained by the police. The municipality had collected taxes for years from the house but never once objected that the building was illegal. And if indeed the house was illegally built, why were tens of houses on the same lane and other lanes not brought down when they were of identical legality as Parveen Fatima’s home?
Before the bulldozers moved in to pull down the house, the officers asked the neighbours to retrieve anything of value in just a few minutes. Most neighbours were too terrorised to move. A couple of neighbours ran into the house and pulled out a few things of value that they saw. After that, the house was razed as a large crowd and reporters with television cameras bore witness. The bulldozers returned, the journalists left, and then people converged to scour the ruins for anything of value that they could loot.
Jawed said to me that as he watched his home being destroyed from his hospital bed – andar se meri aatma ro rahi thi (my soul was weeping inside me). I began to weep, and soon tears welled up also in the eyes of the other men with me. They urged me not to watch, but how could I look away? All our life savings were reduced to rubble. I thought – my family is being made to suffer because of my social service. How often had my wife and younger daughter pleaded with me to give all of that up, and to live a quiet life at home. If I had listened to them, they would not have become homeless.
Nine days later, Jawed and some other prisoners were shifted to another prison some 320 kilometres away, in Deoria. This made it harder for his family to visit him in prison. He was charged first with five crimes connecting him with the protests and violence after the Friday prayers. After this, he was charged under the National Security Act, 1980 – a law that allows for preventive detention for up to a year. No lawyer was permitted to defend him before the advisory panel set up under this statute. This pre-empted his release on bail. The High Court took 10 months to hear his petition against his preventive detention, but it did not immediately pass any orders.
Next, three more criminal cases were mounted on him. He was then charged under the Gangsters and Anti-Social Activities (Prevention) Act, 1986. Finally after the Allahabad High Court finally granted him bail, the Uttar Pradesh police charged him under the Arms Act, 1959. The allegation now was that the police recovered a 12-bore and a 315-bore pistol from his home after it was demolished. But this was fantastical. Crowds of media persons and onlookers had watched as the demolition proceeded. No one saw any pistols during or after the demolition, and Jawed denies that he owned any pistols.
Finally, after 21 months and this battery of criminal charges under a range of stringent statutes, was he released.
This nightmare ended, but what were the findings of various courts? District court judges observed that Jawed was not a named as an accused person. While the police claimed he had a criminal history, it submitted no information about any convictions.
Justice Vikram D Chauhan of the Allahabad High Court, in his order granting Jawed bail on February 5, 2024, concluded that the allegations of the police against him were “vague in nature” with no “factual foundation”. The police had disclosed “no specific instance” to show he was the leader or organiser of a gang. There was no evidence to show that Mohammad was an “instrument” of violence or instigated a mob. The judge observed, “General allegations without material particulars and evidence against the applicant could not by itself be a ground to deny bail to the applicant in view of Article 21 of the Constitution of India.”
Justice Ajay Bhanot of the Allahabad High Court wrote, “He is a law-abiding citizen who holds the unity of the country and amity between various communities very close to his heart. The applicant has neither posted nor shall post any messages which disrupt social harmony in the society.” He added, “Several people had gathered after Friday prayers for which the applicant cannot be held responsible. Neither is the applicant culpable for irresponsible acts of violence committed by some persons”.
If Chief Minister Adityanath and the administration he leads aver that it was just to demolish Jawed Mohammad’s home because he planned a violent protest, the courts have concluded that he is blameless. The outcome of the dil and dimaag that Chief Minster Adityanath is so proud of flaunting is that his administration has destroyed the home and devastated the family of an innocent man not guilty of any criminal act.
Although, with small variations, this story recurs in most punitive demolitions, the courts of the land have done nothing to punish public officials who have recurringly weaponised the bulldozer to lawlessly destroy homes and lives.
“No special law (or guidelines) are necessary,” as Justice Madan Lokur declared to The Wire. “The problem is that government officers do not follow the existing law”. “How can they be allowed to get away with it?” he asked. “If a structure is illegal, demolish it, but only after following the procedure laid down by law. What is the guarantee that the guidelines framed by the Supreme Court will be followed? If they are not followed, what will happen? If the officers are to be punished, why can’t they be punished now? There should be only two guidelines – one, follow the law, otherwise face consequences. Two, nobody can act with impunity, not even senior government officers.”
But even after the Supreme Court is finally considering the legality of these demolitions, there are no signs that the highest court proposes to punish or censure people holding high constitutional office, like chief ministers, or district heads of the administration and police who order these unlawful punitive demolitions.
Unless this is done, until courts reprimand and punish those in public office who destroy with their malign public actions both the rule of law and the morality of the Constitution, the orders and guidelines of the courts will be no more than empty gestures. There is little reason to hope that the Supreme Court’s belated “guidelines” will restrain the juggernaut of the BJP bulldozer.
Let me end with a luminous lament by senior jurist Kapil Sibal. He wrote this after bulldozers had demolished the home of Parveen Fatima and Jawed Mohammad in Prayagraj: “When a bulldozer razes my home to the ground, “it seeks to demolish not just the structure I built, but my courage to speak up. It seeks to belittle what I stand for, mock at my very existence and trample upon me with implacable arrogance so that I live in constant fear or succumb to the machinations of those who seek to bend me and all that I stand for”.
“My home,” he continued, “is not just a brick-and-mortar structure. Its masonry and whitewashed walls do not even begin to tell the story. Within its womb lies all that I cherish. It saves me from the heat of the blazing sun, protects me from chilling winter nights, and holds the memories that live with me. The joys of my being are cradled within it… A home where I am both alone and together (is) essentially a part of my very being.
“When you allow a bulldozer to wade through it, you don’t just destroy a structure, you destroy the essence of all I am. With it, all of me falls apart”.
Harsh Mander, justice and peace worker and writer, leads Karwan e Mohabbat, a people’s campaign to counter hate violence with love and solidarity. He teaches at FAU University of Erlangen-Nuremberg, and Heidelberg University, Germany; Vrije University, Amsterdam; and IIM, Ahmedabad.
Limited-time offer: Big stories, small price. Keep independent media alive. Become a Scroll member today!
Our journalism is for everyone. But you can get special privileges by buying an annual Scroll Membership. Sign up today!