A tiny pore of blood rinsed down the alley until one among the several injured was dead. Around seven years ago, on January 1, 2018, silence hovered over the annual celebration as a Hindu mob allegedly attacked a gathering assembled to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Bhima Koregaon. Decorated with plays, speeches, and songs, the state soon strangled this small village in Pune.
A week later, the government introduced a new term—‘Urban Naxal’—to shackle a total of sixteen people who were present at the event. These included civil rights activists, lawyers, a student union president, and a Jesuit priest, all accused of inciting the violence through speeches delivered at the Elgaar Parishad, an event organized by Dalit and Left organizations a day earlier, on December 31, 2017.
So-called ‘Urban Naxalism’ found momentum through this incident. Since then, political leaders have repeatedly invoked the term at rallies, often targeting Opposition parties. Traditional Naxalism has followed the path of the Little Red Book, with radical outfits generally operating in the forested peripheries of mineral-rich states. In contrast, the state’s claim of ‘Urban Naxalism’ refers to a network of supporters, sympathizers, and funders allegedly embedded in cities.
On July 16, the Supreme Court allowed former Delhi University professor Hany Babu, an accused in the Bhima Koregaon-Elgar Parishad case under the UAPA to seek bail by approaching either the trial court or the High Court. A bench comprising Justices Pankaj Mithal and PB Varale also permitted him to revive his previously withdrawn Special Leave Petition (SLP), while dismissing his plea seeking clarification on whether the withdrawal barred the High Court from hearing his bail application according to Live Law.
This development comes in the wake of the Maharashtra Assembly passing the Maharashtra Special Public Security (Jan Suraksha) Bill, 2024, via a voice vote, despite opposition concerns about its vague and sweeping definitions on 10th July. Aimed at curbing “Urban Maoism” and Left-Wing Extremism, the Bill allows for 2 to 7 years of imprisonment for ‘unlawful activities’, broadly defined to include any speech, act, or written word that threatens public order or disrupts the administration of law. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis assured the House that the Bill would not be misused against political dissenters, but critics fear it could suppress legitimate activism and civil liberties.
Maharashtra Congress President Harshwardhan Sapkal said, "This bill is unconstitutional, against the republic and democracy. The BJP is throttling democracy to prove itself superior” according to ANI.
India has a long history of draconian laws that have punctured democratic institutions and silenced dissent. Human rights activists have consistently raised concerns over the weaponization of such legislation. While many of those arrested in the Bhima Koregaon case were booked under UAPA, the Jan Suraksha Bill appears to mirror similar intent, with fewer safeguards.
“The Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act (MCOCA), enacted in 1999, still offered some protection. An individual or organization couldn’t be arrested unless they had a proven criminal background. That’s not the case with this new Bill,” said Irfan Engineer, Director of the Centre for the Study of Society and Secularism. “The mobilization of such laws is only making states more authoritarian. Civil societies were never affected by MCOCA, but we don’t know what will happen with this new law.”
Maharashtra isn’t the first state to introduce such legislation. Andhra Pradesh and Telangana enacted the Andhra Pradesh Public Security Act, 1992, while Chhattisgarh passed the Vishesh Jan Suraksha Adhiniyam, 2005. Odisha and other states have invoked the Indian Criminal Law Amendment Act, 1908 to ban activities of Left-Wing Extremist (LWE) organizations.
“Every such law chips away at the rights people are constitutionally guaranteed. The ‘Love Jihad’ Act in Uttar Pradesh is one example, where is your right to religion? Your right to marry by choice? The same applies to the Jan Suraksha Bill, where is your freedom of speech? More importantly, where is your right to life?” Engineer added.
One of the most alarming aspects of the Jan Suraksha Bill is the lack of clear definitions. The term ‘unlawful activity’ remains ambiguous, potentially encompassing peaceful protests and civil disobedience. The word ‘organization’ is similarly undefined, allowing for sweeping interpretations. Absolute power, critics fear, puts ordinary lives at stake. If the Bill borrows heavily from UAPA, then the consequences may be equally devastating.
Stan Swamy, who suffered from Parkinson’s disease, died in custody due to a lack of timely medical aid. Seven other Bhima Koregaon accused remain behind bars to this day.
According to the Ministry of Home Affairs, there has been a 52% reduction in LWE-related violence and a 69% drop in deaths over the past two decades. In March 2024, only two districts in Maharashtra were classified as “LWE-affected,” down from 75 in 2015. This sharp decline challenges the rationale for introducing state-specific anti-Naxal laws, as no direct link has been established between such laws and the fall in extremism.
“The Bill was introduced at the very end of the Vidhan Sabha session only to defame the Pune movement and suppress Ambedkarites. Activists, they believe, cannot be nationalists,” said Sumedh Jadhav, a Dalit activist. “The government has decided to curse those who differ from them.”
In practice, the legality of an activity becomes irrelevant. It is the opinion of the state and police that defines what is ‘unlawful’. This selective application could easily be driven by religion, caste, or political ideology, eroding the very idea of Jan Suraksha (public security).
The Bill imposes penalties that are arbitrarily defined—one act could lead to 2, 3, or even 7 years of imprisonment. Mere membership in an unlawful organization is punishable by 3 years. Even non-members—those who contribute, solicit funds, or shelter members—can face 2 years in jail. Most worryingly, the Bill lacks any requirement of criminal intent. Even UAPA, despite its severity, includes intent in the definition of its offences through the phrase “knowingly and intentionally.”
The People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) was among the first to flag the dangers in the Jan Suraksha Bill. The burden now lies on the Mahayuti government, which has positioned itself as the ideological successor to Balasaheb Thackeray’s Hindutva-driven politics. With the Maratha quota becoming a scapegoat in every election cycle, and identity fractures brewing in language and caste politics, critics argue that the government is actively eroding the foundations of Indian democracy.
