India’s Human Rights Day under shadow of widening crackdown

By Staff Writer

NEW DELHI, India (MNTV) — India will observe Human Rights Day on December 10 under conditions that activists and journalists say represent the most comprehensive assault on civil liberties in the country’s democratic history.

What began as episodic crackdowns on dissent has evolved into what observers describe as a systematic architecture designed to silence criticism and reshape public discourse.

The past year has seen coordinated action across multiple fronts: raids on independent newsrooms, the blocking of platforms documenting communal violence, criminal cases filed against those expressing solidarity with Palestine, and financial strangulation of civil society organizations through regulatory mechanisms.

Human rights, advocates say, do not vanish suddenly.

They disappear incrementally—through police complaints filed against journalists, newsrooms sealed before dawn, students suspended for slogans, activists detained indefinitely without trial, and digital platforms erased for documenting inconvenient truths.

Digital erasure and control of public memory

As physical and digital spaces for expression contract simultaneously, one of the starkest examples of government censorship has been the blocking of independent documentation platforms without legal process or public justification.

The most prominent case involves Hindutva Watch, a research initiative that maintains a database tracking hate speech and religiously motivated violence across India. The platform was abruptly blocked within India’s borders, eliminating public access to one of the few systematic archives documenting the rise in majoritarian violence.

Raqib Hameed Naik, who founded the platform, frames the action as part of a deliberate strategy to prevent public documentation of abuses and disable accountability mechanisms.

“The blocking of Hindutva Watch fits into a wider pattern in India where independent researchers, journalists, and civil society groups who document hate crimes and rights violations are increasingly targeted,” Naik explains.

“Instead of addressing the violence itself, authorities often focus on silencing those who expose it, using censorship and intimidation to control the narrative.”

His assessment highlights a fundamental shift on Human Rights Day—a day meant to commemorate the right to seek, receive and share information. In India’s current climate, not only the ability to speak freely but also the ability to access information faces systematic restriction.

Naik says the censorship regime has forced documentation efforts underground and necessitated storing evidence outside India’s jurisdiction for preservation.

“This creates a chilling effect that discourages others from speaking out and makes it harder for the public to see the true scale of majoritarian hate,” he notes.

The blocking of documentation platforms, Naik argues, serves a purpose beyond simple censorship—it represents an attempt to rewrite collective memory and public understanding.

“The targeting of platforms like ours appears to be part of a deliberate strategy to limit documentation of majoritarian violence and prevent independent scrutiny,” he says.

“When the state blocks access to data, reporting, and verification tools, it becomes easier to deny abuses and harder for victims to seek justice.”

The implications extend into how violence itself is perceived.

Without accessible documentation, incidents of abuse become isolated anecdotes rather than patterns, and the experiences of survivors remain invisible to public consciousness.

“These actions signal an effort to erase evidence from the public domain, especially evidence that challenges the government’s narrative of ‘all is well,'” Naik observes.

He warns that the disappearance of systematic documentation undermines the possibility of recognizing patterns of abuse and eliminates the foundation for accountability. When historical evidence is obscured, justice becomes indefinitely postponed.

“Digital censorship narrows public understanding by cutting off access to credible information about abuses that minorities face,” Naik says.

“When documentation is blocked or removed, the stories of victims are pushed into the shadows, leaving space for misinformation and state propaganda to dominate.”

The consequences shape both public perception and policy formation. Violence that cannot be documented cannot be officially acknowledged.

“Without visibility into the scale and patterns of violence, both the public and policymakers are less equipped to recognize the severity of the crisis or push for accountability and reform,” he adds.

The scope of digital suppression became particularly evident earlier this year when more than 8,000 social media accounts were blocked during a military standoff with Pakistan, demonstrating the speed and scale at which dissenting voices can be silenced.

Independent journalism under siege

The assault on documentation extends to traditional media. The clearest measure of India’s contracting civic space is the sustained campaign against independent newsrooms.

Over the past year, media outlets have endured predawn raids, prolonged interrogations, confiscation of reporting equipment, frozen bank accounts, and criminal prosecutions for coverage deemed unfavorable to authorities.

The pattern extends from major metropolitan centers to conflict zones. In Kashmir, the pressure intensifies: books banned from circulation, editors subjected to repeated questioning, reporters imprisoned without formal charges.

The raid on Kashmir Times offices and the broader suppression of Kashmiri journalism illustrate a landscape where factual reporting is reframed as sedition and impartiality is treated as betrayal.

The cumulative effect has created an environment where the press faces an implicit choice: offer praise or face consequences.

Civil society organizations under financial and legal assault

Civil society groups have faced some of the most severe consequences. Organizations working on human rights, minority protections, refugee rights, legal aid, and documentation of communal violence have been targeted through multiple mechanisms: cancellation of foreign funding licenses under the Foreign Contribution Regulation Act (FCRA), raids by the Enforcement Directorate and Income Tax department, frozen bank accounts, and suspended operating licenses.

A prominent case this year involved restrictions placed on SECMOL, the environmental NGO founded by Ladakhi activist Sonam Wangchuk.

The targeting of an organization focused on education and environmental sustainability in a remote Himalayan region illustrates how even initiatives with no explicit political agenda now face state suspicion.

The cumulative effect has created an atmosphere where independent civic work carries inherent legal risk, and advocacy for vulnerable communities is viewed through a lens of disloyalty. Many organizations have been forced to cease operations entirely, relocate abroad, or severely curtail their activities.

Criminalization of Palestine solidarity

Public expressions of solidarity with Palestine—whether through protests, poster exhibitions, campus gatherings, or social media posts—have triggered police intervention, institutional disciplinary measures, and the filing of First Information Reports that initiate criminal proceedings.

Students, activists, and ordinary citizens describe an environment where expressing grief requires self-censorship, and public mourning for civilian casualties in Gaza is treated as evidence of extremist sympathies.

The restrictions illuminate how acceptable political expression has narrowed.

Sympathy for civilian suffering in a foreign conflict zone is policed as potential criminality, particularly when expressed by Muslim communities or progressive student organizations.

The cumulative changes have transformed everyday life for those engaged in public discourse. Journalists maintain emergency contact lists and retain legal counsel as standard practice rather than exception.

Students delete social media posts as a precautionary measure. NGO workers navigate bureaucratic threats rather than focus on community service.

Activists communicate in deliberately vague language, uncertain who might be monitoring their conversations.

Human Rights Day arrives not as an occasion to celebrate democratic resilience but as a stark reminder of democratic fragility. Rights that once formed the foundation of public participation now require careful negotiation, strategic silence, and constant vigilance.

What remains is a nation where the ability to speak freely is contested, access to information is restricted, and the preservation of documented history requires active defense.