India’s Supreme Court bans ‘bulldozer justice,’ leaving victims of past demolitions without redress

“You can be homesick at home, you know?” This sentiment is occasionally experienced by Afreen Fatima, an activist residing in Prayagraj, a city in northern India. In the summer of 2022, Ms Fatima’s childhood residence—a two-storeyed, yellow-brick structure situated in the city’s vibrant core—was razed by authorities during the night. The demolition of the house occurred after her father, Javed Mohammad, a local politician, was apprehended and identified as the “key conspirator” in a Muslim protest that had escalated into violence. Mr Mohammad refutes these allegations and has not been convicted of any offense related to the June 2022 protests. Her family is among numerous others who have been subjected to what is termed “bulldozer justice”—a practice where officials swiftly demolish the residences of individuals accused of crimes—but they are hopefully among the last. On Wednesday, India’s highest judicial body outlawed this practice, which has seen a surge in recent years, particularly in states governed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). While Hindu families have also been affected, critics contend that these actions predominantly target India’s approximately 200 million Muslims, especially following incidents of religious violence or protests—an accusation the BJP denies. Chief ministers in several states have associated such demolitions with their administrations’ stringent approach to crime. Officially, however, the stated justification is that these structures were erected unlawfully. Experts have consistently challenged this rationale, asserting that it lacks legal foundation and that punishing an individual for an alleged crime using laws intended for different purposes is illogical. Ms Fatima recounts that during the 20 months Mr Mohammad spent incarcerated—he secured bail earlier this year—she and her family relocated twice within the city. Despite the challenges, they eventually found stability. Yet, she admits there are moments when their new dwelling feels strangely unfamiliar, like an “adopted space” that hasn’t been adequately inhabited. “It’s not the same. I spent most of my life in our old house. There are no memories here, it feels empty,” she says. Consequently, when the court delivered its verdict this week, Ms Fatima harbored hopes of finally achieving some resolution. However, the outcome proved to be bittersweet. While the court has prohibited authorities from arbitrarily destroying the homes and businesses of those accused or convicted of crimes, it failed to specify any form of compensation for families like Ms Fatima’s, who have previously fallen victim to such demolitions. “We welcome the judgement, but what about those of us who have already lost our homes?” she says. The practice had become widespread: in 2022, officials in five states bulldozed 128 structures within just three months “as punishment,” according to a report by Amnesty International. In its order, spanning over 95 pages, the court severely reprimanded state governments, stating it cannot “become a judge and decide that a person accused is guilty and, therefore, punish him”. The judgment further added that dispensing such punishment “reminds one of a lawless state of affairs, where might was right”. The court subsequently issued a series of directives, mandating that authorities provide at least 15 days’ advance notice to an occupant before an illegal structure is demolished and publicly articulate the reason for the demolition. Furthermore, all public officials will be held personally accountable under Indian laws if a demolition is executed unlawfully, the judgment clarified. Advocacy groups, legal professionals, and opposition figures have lauded the order as a “turning point” in addressing the unjust practice that has persisted unchecked for years. “Late is the hour in which these guidelines chose to appear – but better late than never!” remarked Gautam Bhatia, a lawyer based in Delhi. Govind Mathur, a judge and former chief justice of a high court, concurs that the order does not address victims, but he adds that it “doesn’t restrict any claim of compensation by such persons”. “If an act is illegal, then the victim can always demand for compensation. The wrong committed will remain a wrong and the cost of that has to be paid by the wrong doers,” he says. Justice Mathur further states that the order serves as a “strong message for state machinery to not align with political bosses but to act in accordance with law”. Ms Fatima, however, emphasizes that the reality is not so straightforward. More than two years have passed since her family first challenged the demolition in a high court, yet there has not been a single hearing, she notes. She vividly recalls the day it occurred. Spectators gathered at the corner to observe the excavator as it tore down their house, many recording with cameras and phones. Ms Fatima, who watched the demolition on her own phone from a relative’s house, remembers feeling numb. She thought of her room and the vast quantity of keepsakes and furniture stored there. Stories permeated every corner—cherished daily memories, such as time spent with her sister and lively family discussions around the dinner table. “All of that was gone,” she says. While Ms Fatima’s family has managed to reconstruct their lives to some extent, others report still being in an unresolved state. “We are practically on the streets, with nothing and no one,” states Reshma, a daily wage worker in Rajasthan state. In September, Reshma’s house in Udaipur city was demolished on grounds of illegal encroachment, the day after her eight-year-old brother allegedly stabbed his classmate. The child was taken into custody and placed in a juvenile home, while his father was arrested on charges of abetment to murder. Since then, Reshma, her mother, and sister have been residing in a small shanty on the city’s outskirts. To them, the court ruling holds no significance, she asserts. “We want actual help, some money or compensation to rebuild our lives, this changes nothing.” Like Ms Fatima, Reshma’s family has also contested the demolition in court. Legal experts suggest that the Supreme Court’s guidelines could potentially influence how all such pending cases are adjudicated in the future. “This decision will change many things – courts will have to see whether legal processes were followed while carrying out these demolitions,” senior Supreme Court lawyer CU Singh informed BBC Hindi. Ms Fatima remains uncertain whether the court’s order will genuinely halt demolitions. Nevertheless, her father, Mr Mohammad, is filled with optimism, she shares. Occasionally, she observes her father reflecting on their former home—the sofas and rugs, the rows of books on the shelves that he had meticulously arranged, likely still buried in the debris. “He did most of the improvements, from the curtains to the cushion covers. Losing the house broke his heart more than anyone else’s,” she says. However, Mr Mohammad chooses not to dwell on the suffering and is already engaged in making new enhancements to his house and his life. “He keeps telling me, this is a historic order and we have to talk about it as much as we can,” his daughter conveys. “Just like this house, we are building lives again and renovating our memories.”