India takes pride in being the world’s largest democracy. Every election cycle, the ruling party proudly proclaims the magnitude of its electoral exercise as proof of democratic health. But democracy is not validated by size; it is tested by strength. And its strength is measured not in votes cast, but in how power tolerates dissent once the votes are counted.

On that measure, India is failing. The recent defamation summonses against Abhisar Sharma and Raju Parulekar are not isolated incidents. They are the latest in a disturbing series of attacks on independent journalism—a trend that threatens to hollow out the very core of India’s democratic promise.

From Reporting to Retaliation

The facts are clear. In August 2025, Sharma uploaded a video alleging questionable land allotments to corporate giants, pointing to a pattern of political favouritism. Around the same time, Parulekar, a fierce critic of the BJP and RSS, posted similar claims on social media. Instead of robust rebuttals from the state or transparent disclosure of policy, the response was swift retaliation: criminal defamation complaints filed in Gujarat, dragging both men into the grind of court appearances, legal costs, and reputational battles.

This is not justice; it is deterrence. And it sends a message louder than any press conference: speak against power, and you will be punished.

Why Governments Target Independent Media

Authoritarian impulses rarely announce themselves with jackboots and curfews. They creep in through quieter, procedural tools: defamation suits, tax raids, broadcast suspensions, and algorithmic throttling. These tactics achieve what outright censorship cannot: plausible deniability.

The logic is simple. Independent journalists embarrass the state. They expose corruption, challenge official narratives, and puncture the carefully crafted image of invincibility. Their very existence makes governance uncomfortable. And because governments cannot openly criminalise dissent, they resort to indirect intimidation—using laws and courts as weapons.

The Corporate Nexus

What makes India’s situation particularly dangerous is the marriage of political power with corporate dominance. Newsrooms today are not just pressured by governments; they are owned by conglomerates whose fortunes depend on government goodwill. When billionaires hold the keys to television channels and newspapers, editorial freedom becomes a casualty of shareholder interest.

In the present case, the alleged land deals involved companies with powerful political connections. Instead of scrutinising these ties, the media ecosystem—already compromised by ownership structures—largely looked away. Only a handful of independent voices dared to probe. And they, unsurprisingly, became targets.

A Global Pattern

India is not unique in this trajectory. Turkey under Erdoğan, Hungary under Orbán, Russia under Putin—all tell the same story. Strong leaders consolidate control not by abolishing elections, but by capturing institutions, weakening courts, and silencing the press. In each case, media intimidation was the canary in the coal mine, a warning of democratic decay.

The United States, too, has wrestled with a hostile state-media relationship, especially under the Trump administration. But what distinguishes India is the scale of self-censorship. Many journalists no longer need to be silenced; they silence themselves. Fear of defamation suits, fear of losing licenses, fear of harassment—all combine to produce a press that often echoes rather than interrogates power.

The Legal Cage

India’s legal framework itself abets this climate of fear. Defamation in India is both civil and criminal—a peculiarity inherited from colonial rule. While most democracies restrict defamation to civil claims, India still permits imprisonment for speech deemed defamatory. This draconian provision acts as a sword of Damocles, ready to fall on any journalist who dares to challenge the powerful.

Similarly, sedition laws—though read down by the Supreme Court—remain on the statute books, weaponised at will. Add to this the tightening grip over digital platforms through IT Rules, and the picture becomes clear: the law is less a shield for citizens than a whip for dissenters.

Citizens Pay the Price

The greatest casualty of this crackdown is not the journalist, but the citizen. In a democracy, people make decisions based on the information available to them. If that information is curated, censored, or distorted, the citizen’s choice is no longer free—it is manipulated.

Independent media is not a journalist’s indulgence; it is the public’s right. A vote cast without access to truthful information is not a democratic act—it is theatre. That is why freedom of the press is often called the lifeblood of democracy. Without it, the citizen is reduced to a spectator in a political drama where the script is written by those in power.

The Illusion of Neutrality

Critics argue that journalists like Sharma or Parulekar are themselves biased, one-sided, or blunt to the point of provocation. Perhaps. But bias is not the issue. In fact, bias is inevitable. Every journalist, like every citizen, approaches the world through a lens shaped by experience and conviction.

The problem is not bias—it is the suppression of multiplicity. A democracy thrives when multiple voices compete, clash, and coexist. It dies when only one voice dominates. A biased but free press can be debated, challenged, and corrected. A silenced press offers nothing but obedience.

The Slow Death of Dissent

What should alarm us is not only that journalists are targeted, but that society is becoming accustomed to it. Each raid, each defamation suit, each suspension is met with a shrug. Over time, outrage fades, and silence becomes normal. That is how democracies erode—not with dramatic coups, but with the slow suffocation of dissent.

Already, India’s press freedom ranking has plummeted on global indices. Journalists face hostility not just from the state but from partisan citizens who brand them “anti-national” for asking questions. The result is a media environment where fear outpaces courage.

The Road Ahead

If India is to preserve its democratic character, it must protect its independent voices—not after they are destroyed, but while they are still speaking. This requires reform on three fronts:

1. Legal Reform: Decriminalise defamation, repeal sedition, and safeguard whistleblowers. Laws must shield journalists, not shackle them.
2. Corporate Reform: Enforce transparency in media ownership, prevent monopolies, and insulate newsrooms from shareholder interference.
3. Cultural Reform: Cultivate in citizens the understanding that criticism of government is not treason but patriotism. A democracy that cannot stomach dissent is not democracy at all.

What Kind of Nation Do We Want?

The question before us is stark. Do we want a press that flatters governments, or a press that informs citizens? Do we want journalists who are obedient stenographers, or journalists who are fearless watchdogs?

If it is the latter, then the persecution of independent voices must end. For if the truth dies in India, it will not be at the hands of foreign enemies. It will die quietly, in courtrooms and newsrooms, under the weight of a government that mistook criticism for crime and dissent for disloyalty.

And when that day comes, it will not just be the journalists who are silenced. It will be the people themselves.