Rajasthan High Court Confronts ‘Institutional Humiliation’ of Arrestees

**Rajasthan High Court Confronts ‘Institutional Humiliation’ of Arrestees**

### Introduction

The Rajasthan High Court has recently denounced the police practice of parading arrested persons and circulating their photographs on social media before any judicial determination of guilt, characterising it as a form of “institutional humiliation”. In a strongly worded order, the Court directed that such images be removed from social media platforms within 24 hours, and cautioned that this conduct strikes at the very root of human dignity and the presumption of innocence. This decision sits squarely at the intersection of criminal procedure, constitutional rights, and the rapidly evolving digital public sphere. It raises important questions about the permissible limits of police publicity, the role of social media in criminal justice, and the State’s positive duty to protect the dignity of even those suspected of crime.

### Legal Background

The starting point in Indian constitutional law is Article 21 of the Constitution, which protects life and personal liberty and has been expansively interpreted to encompass dignity, privacy, and reputation. In Maneka Gandhi v Union of India (1978), the Supreme Court read Articles 14, 19 and 21 together to insist that any procedure depriving life or liberty must be “fair, just and reasonable”. Later, in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd) v Union of India (2017), the Court affirmed privacy as a fundamental right, explicitly grounding it in human dignity and autonomy.

In the specific context of policing, D.K. Basu v State of West Bengal (1997) laid down binding guidelines to curb custodial violence and abuse, emphasising that arrestees do not lose their fundamental rights by virtue of arrest. The Court has repeatedly decried practices of public shaming—such as unnecessary handcuffing and parading of prisoners—as violative of Article 21 and inconsistent with civilized standards of criminal justice (see, for example, Citizens for Democracy v State of Assam (1995) and State of Gujarat v Hon’ble High Court of Gujarat (1998)).

The presumption of innocence, though not textually enumerated, has been recognised as an integral part of fair trial rights under Articles 20 and 21. Indian courts have also drawn on comparative standards, including Article 14(2) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which enshrines the presumption of innocence, and the European Court of Human Rights’ jurisprudence under Article 6 of the European Convention.

Finally, criminal procedure statutes such as the Code of Criminal Procedure 1973 (CrPC) empower the police to investigate, arrest and publicise information in limited contexts (for example, publishing look-out notices or missing person reports). However, these powers are subject to constitutional limitations and must be exercised proportionately, particularly when the publication is not aimed at securing arrest or protecting the public but at exposing an accused to public opprobrium.

### Critical Analysis

The practice addressed by the Rajasthan High Court—forcing arrestees to sit at the entrance of police stations for coloured photographs and broadcasting those images on social media—cannot be justified either as an investigative necessity or as a legitimate form of public information. Its primary effect is to stigmatise individuals at the point of arrest, well before any evidence has been tested or guilt determined.

From a constitutional standpoint, this conduct offends dignity in multiple dimensions. First, it transforms a person under investigation into an object of public spectacle. In Puttaswamy, the Supreme Court stressed that privacy protects the “right to be left alone” and the right to control the dissemination of personal information. A photograph of an individual under arrest, coupled with allegations of criminality, is intensely personal data with potentially irreversible reputational consequences, particularly in the age of permanent digital archives.

Secondly, public parading of arrestees undermines the presumption of innocence. Even where courts ultimately acquit, the digital record may continue to label the individual as an “accused” or “criminal”, complicating future employment, social relationships and community standing. This produces a form of extra-legal punishment before trial, inconsistent with the principle articulated in Maneka Gandhi that procedure must be fair not only in form but also in substance.

Thirdly, the practice risks contaminating the fairness of subsequent proceedings. Pre-trial publicity, especially on social media, can shape public and even judicial perceptions. In Sidhartha Vashisht @ Manu Sharma v State (NCT of Delhi) (2010), the Supreme Court expressed concern over “trial by media” and its potential to prejudice fair trial rights. Publicly displaying arrestees as trophies of police efficiency encourages precisely this culture of prejudgment.

Nor can the practice be defended under any public interest exception. There are circumstances where publication of a suspect’s photograph may be justified—for example, when seeking public assistance to locate a fugitive or to identify an unknown offender. In such cases, the dissemination serves a clear investigative or protective purpose. By contrast, the Rajasthan practice, as reported, appears to be routine and unrelated to any investigative necessity. It operates as a form of institutional signalling—demonstrating toughness on crime—at the cost of individual rights.

The High Court’s use of the term “institutional humiliation” is doctrinally significant. It recognises that the harm is not merely individual but structural: the State, through repeated patterns of conduct, embeds humiliation into its policing culture. This resonates with the Supreme Court’s more recent emphasis on “constitutional morality”, particularly in Navtej Singh Johar v Union of India (2018), where the Court rejected social morality as a justification for degrading treatment of vulnerable groups. Here, too, the police cannot invoke public sentiment or demands for spectacle to justify conduct incompatible with constitutional morality.

The direction to remove such images from social media within 24 hours is an important remedial innovation. It acknowledges the digital dimension of harm: once photographs are uploaded, they can be copied, shared and archived indefinitely. Time-bound takedown obligations attempt, albeit imperfectly, to arrest the spread of such content. Analogous approaches can be seen in European data protection law, particularly in the “right to be forgotten” jurisprudence under the EU’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), where individuals can seek removal of outdated or prejudicial material. While India has not formally adopted a similar statutory structure, Puttaswamy left open the possibility of data protection legislation anchored in dignity and informational self-determination.

### Opinion & Outlook

In normative terms, the Rajasthan High Court’s intervention is both necessary and overdue. It aligns Indian criminal procedure with a modern understanding of the State’s duty to respect and protect dignity, even in coercive settings. The judgment reinforces that the police are not free agents in the digital space; they remain constitutional actors whose actions must be justified by law, necessity and proportionality.

Looking ahead, this decision is likely to influence police standing orders and state police manuals. One can reasonably anticipate the formulation of explicit directions prohibiting routine publication of arrest photographs, save in narrowly defined exceptional circumstances linked to public safety or the needs of investigation. Internal disciplinary mechanisms will need to be activated to ensure compliance; otherwise, the practice may merely move from official accounts to informal or anonymous channels.

There is also scope for doctrinal development. Future cases may clarify whether individuals wrongfully exposed in this manner are entitled to public law compensation under Article 32 or 226, in line with the compensatory jurisprudence emerging from cases such as Rudul Sah v State of Bihar (1983) and D.K. Basu. Courts may additionally explore whether platform obligations—requiring social media companies to act swiftly on verified takedown requests from courts or rights-holders—should be cast in more precise, standardised terms.

Comparative experience suggests a cautious approach. In many jurisdictions, police are encouraged to share information to aid investigations and reassure the public, but are equally warned against comments or imagery that prejudice fair trial rights. England and Wales, for instance, operate under the College of Policing’s guidance on media relations, which stresses that suspects should not be presented as guilty and that media engagement must respect Article 6 and Article 8 rights under the European Convention on Human Rights. The Rajasthan decision pushes Indian practice towards a similar rights-sensitive model.

### Conclusion

The Rajasthan High Court’s condemnation of the public parading and online display of arrestees marks an important affirmation of dignity, privacy and the presumption of innocence in India’s criminal process. By labelling the practice as “institutional humiliation” and ordering prompt takedown of images from social media, the Court sends a clear message that law enforcement must not weaponise public shaming as a substitute for due process. If followed through in policy and practice, this decision could help recalibrate the relationship between policing and publicity, ensuring that digital-age enforcement remains firmly anchored in constitutional values rather than spectacle.