Justice must not only be done, but must also appear to have been done

 On 13th April, the former Chief Minister of Delhi, Shri Arvind Kejriwal, argued his case in the High Court of Delhi for the recusal of Justice Swarna Kanta Sharma from hearing his case. In a lengthy argument of more than an hour, he raised ten points as to why she should not hear the case. The most damning ground was that, since she is sympathetic to the philosophy or ideology of a particular party, which is his political enemy, he has genuine reasons to believe he will not receive fair justice from the court presided over by her. He specifically mentioned that she has attended four programmes of Adhivakta Parishad, which is closely linked with the Bharatiya Janata Party, which is hostile to him and his party. Shri Kejriwal wants a judge of impeccable integrity to hear his case and decide the matter. Justice Sharma has reserved the order.

There is no doubt that justice should not only be done, but it should also appear to have been done. On the 15th of April, Kejriwal levelled another allegation to impeach her integrity, namely that her two children, son and daughter, are on different panels of the Central government; therefore, she can hardly be expected to dispense fair justice to him.

However, if the logic of Shri Kejriwal is accepted on its face, nobody can function as a judge in most of the cases. Most of the judges, right from the Supreme Court to the subordinate courts, have their near and dear ones working in government organisations and corporate houses, where they perform their duties. Here, the accepted norm is that nobody will practise in the court where any relative of theirs is a judge. This is very fragile ground. From this logic, Justice Swarna Kanta Sharma cannot be kept under the scanner. Preventing any judge from attending any function organised by an organisation having proximity with any political party is a far-fetched theory. If this logic is accepted, then it will amount to direct curtailment of the fundamental rights of an individual. Thus, this argument or allegation of Kejriwal stands on a very weak footing. There have not been one or two but hundreds of examples where judges have been active members of political parties, but nobody has raised any doubt over their justice or jurisprudence. Justice VR Krishna Aiyer is the most shining example of it, whose judgments have been appreciated by one and all.

Another point is that if it were not Kejriwal, could any ordinary person, or as they say, any aam aadmi, have got this opportunity to address the court? Kejriwal used this marathon opportunity to level allegations, left and right, against the court. In all fairness, he should have been asked to file the affidavit instead of being allowed to make a political speech in the court.

Procedure is the First Casualty in Allahabad High Court

 The recent proceedings before the Allahabad High Court in the alleged dual citizenship case against Rahul Gandhi offer a troubling reminder: in moments of urgency, it is often procedure that is sacrificed first—and with it, the legitimacy of the outcome.

At the core lies a simple, non-negotiable rule: audi alteram partem—no one should be condemned unheard. Yet the initial direction to register an FIR appears to have been issued without hearing the person most affected. The Court’s subsequent recall of its own order was not just corrective; it was necessary. But the question lingers—how was such a lapse allowed to occur at all?

Equally concerning is the route taken. After the trial court declined relief, the petitioner bypassed the statutory mechanism under the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 and moved the High Court directly. The Supreme Court of India has repeatedly cautioned against precisely this practice. High Courts are not meant to be first-stop forums for FIR registration; they are constitutional courts of last resort.

This was never a routine criminal complaint. Allegations involving citizenship—particularly those tied to foreign documentation—demand careful investigation, evidentiary rigour, and procedural discipline. Short-circuiting that process risks turning serious legal questions into spectacles.

To be clear, constitutional courts do have the power to direct registration of an FIR. But that power is exceptional, not every day. When exercised without due caution, it blurs the line between judicial oversight and executive function.

What ultimately saved the situation here was timing. The order was reconsidered before it was signed. Had it been finalised, the Court would have become functus officio, and the path to correction would have been far more complex.

The larger lesson is straightforward: substance cannot come at the cost of process. If allegations are serious, they must be investigated thoroughly and impartially. But that investigation must begin the right way, through the right forum, and with the right safeguards. Because in the rule of law, how you proceed is often as important as what you decide.