Published Apr 02, 2026 | 12:00 PM ⚊ Updated Apr 02, 2026 | 12:55 PM
Hate speech. Representative Image. (iStock)
Synopsis: The state government recently introduced the Telangana Hate Speech and Hate Crimes (Prevention) Bill, 2026, in the Assembly. Although the Bill’s intention is justified, the vague provisions could be used by the government to suppress dissent and target political opponents. In effect, if the government wishes to silence anyone, it can invoke this law, imprison them, and shut down their website, YouTube channel, or publication.
As the budget session of the Telangana Legislative Assembly was drawing to a close, the state government introduced the Telangana Hate Speech and Hate Crimes (Prevention) Bill, 2026, on 29 March.
In the discussion held the following day, Opposition parties —the BJP, the AIMIM, and the CPI — opposed the Bill. During this discussion in the House, members of the principal Opposition party, the BRS, were under suspension.
“Preventing genuine hate speech and preserving social harmony are indeed important responsibilities of any government. However, the present Bill is dangerous, vague, overly broad, and open to misuse,” said BRS Working President KT Rama Rao in a statement.
“This Bill tolls the death knell for freedom of expression. It will also curb the questioning of government failures. Since amendments are necessary, we request that it be referred to a select committee,” said BJP floor leader A Maheshwar Reddy.
AIMIM legislator Ahmed bin Abdullah Balala said that while they support the objectives of the Bill, there are certain flaws, and religious preaching should not be mistaken for hate speech; he too suggested that it be referred to a committee. CPI legislator Kunamneni Sambasiva Rao opposed the Bill and demanded its withdrawal. He pointed out that under its provisions, even a remark by one member of a party could render the entire party liable for punishment.
Congress legislator Danam Nagender said the Bill was necessary and need not be withdrawn, though certain amendments could be made. Ultimately, the House resolved to refer the bill to a select committee. In other words, the snake has, for the time being, been put back into the basket.
According to the established procedure of lawmaking in the country, a bill is moved and debated in the legislature, suggestions for amendments are made, and after final approval, it is sent to the Governor for assent. Once the Governor signs it, it becomes law and gets published in the Gazette.
If the law also affects subjects in the Concurrent List of the Constitution, it must, after the Governor’s assent, also be sent to the President for approval. Only thereafter does it become law and come into force upon publication in the Gazette.
Surprisingly, bypassing this entire process, the text of the bill introduced in the Assembly is already available in Gazette form. Whether this is due to the haste and oversight of officials or whether the state government is prepared to bypass the entire process of legislative debate, approval, gubernatorial assent, and presidential assent before Gazette publication is unclear.
Leaving aside that technical issue, many substantive aspects of this bill demand attention.
As is customary, this Bill — set to become the ‘Telangana Hate Speech and Hate Crimes (Prevention) Act’ — contains a Statement of Objects and Reasons. It notes that in recent times, incidents of hate speech and hate crimes have increased significantly, particularly on digital and social media platforms.
These have the potential to spread rapidly and cause serious harm to public order and social harmony. Such actions create enmity, hatred, and unrest among individuals and groups based on religion, caste, race, language, gender, and other identities, thereby undermining the constitutional values of equality, dignity, and fraternity.
Therefore, the statement declares, it has become necessary to enact this law to prevent, discourage, and punish such acts, to deter potential offenders, and to provide appropriate compensation to victims.
The reasons cited by the government are indeed valid. In society, especially through social media, toxic and hateful propaganda is spreading extensively. Falsehoods are being circulated. Fabricated histories are being propagated as real history by the so-called “WhatsApp University.”
Those who present facts are subjected to relentless trolling, abuse, defamation, and threats. However, these troll armies are largely operated by political parties themselves. Almost all parties have set up offices, employ paid staff, and run campaigns of venom and hatred.
While the organisational strength and reach of the Sangh Parivar may be greater in this regard, no party is exempt. This pernicious trend, ongoing for several years, is worsening by the day. It must be curbed. Those engaging in such toxic propaganda must be punished severely, and a deterrent environment must be created so that no one dares to engage in such acts.
This is a social and historical necessity. If one looks only at the statement of objectives, the government does appear to be acting with good intentions.
However, history shows that many policies, laws, and schemes announced by governments with ostensibly good intentions end up being implemented in ways completely contrary to those intentions — often anti-people, or as instruments of vendetta against political opponents.
Particularly when the government belongs to a political party with its own interests, and when those interests conflict with those of other parties, it becomes difficult for the ruling establishment to implement such laws neutrally, objectively, and impartially.
At times, there may be explicit instructions from above not to apply the law against one’s own supporters but to use it against opponents. Even in the absence of such instructions, officials may act with excessive zeal to please their political bosses.
Crimes committed by ruling party members may be ignored, while actions of the Opposition or dissenting voices may be portrayed as crimes. There are thousands of examples before us where laws enacted “to suppress terrorism” have instead been used against farmers, workers, students, and religious minorities.
Some may call such selective use “misuse,” while others may argue that the very use itself constitutes misuse. In the present bill prepared by the Telangana government, certain wordings, explanations, and provisions raise doubts about whether the government’s professed good intentions are genuine or whether the bill is meant primarily to harass opponents, dissenters, and alternative voices.
When one examines who defines what constitutes “hate speech,” and on what basis, the question arises: If the authority vested with this power declares that whatever the ruling party says is not hate speech, and whatever the opposition or dissenters say is hate speech, is there any safeguard against such abuse?
In fact, the way the law is structured itself enables the state machinery to interpret it in an arbitrary manner — exempting expressions of the ruling party while criminalising those of the Opposition and dissenters.
The definition of “hate speech” in this Bill is so expansive that anything can be included within it — or excluded from it. Such a definition is known as a “hold-all” definition. Any expression that displeases those in power can be thrown into this hold-all.
While it specifies that any message or communication conveyed through oral, written, sign, visual, or electronic means falls under its ambit, it also adds the vague and undefined phrase “or in any other manner.” Critics of the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) have pointed out that similar wording — “speech, writing, signs, visual representation, or otherwise” — which leaves discretion to the police, is what makes such laws dangerous.
Since the police generally act in accordance with the ruling government, this vague definition inevitably invites misuse. Indeed, every instance of its application risks becoming an authoritarian assault.
This means that even if a speech, writing, expression, gesture, or digital message is not actually hateful, if the person expressing it — or those associated with it — are not in the good books of the government, a police officer can stamp it as “hate speech.”
Moreover, the Bill empowers the police to arrest such persons without a warrant. It makes the offence non-bailable. In effect, if the government wishes to silence anyone — be it their speech, writings, expressions, or YouTube videos — it can invoke this law, imprison them, and shut down their website, YouTube channel, or publication.
They can be detained in jail for years in an uncertain limbo, with no clarity on when the trial will occur. If convicted, first-time offenders face imprisonment ranging from one to seven years and a fine of ₹50,000; repeat offenders face two to ten years of imprisonment and fines up to ₹1 lakh.
If the alleged hate speech is published or broadcast by an organisation, its directors and managers are also liable for punishment. The bill also empowers the government to remove such content from digital platforms.
In short, this is an authoritarian law. In fact, appropriate punishments and procedures for dealing with hate speech already existed in the Indian Penal Code and are now incorporated in the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita.
Even proper implementation of those provisions would suffice. If political parties themselves took a civilised decision not to engage in hate speech and toxic propaganda, the problem would largely be resolved. Even then, if individuals resort to such acts, there are existing legal mechanisms to investigate and punish them.
Is the Telangana government, under the pretext of a genuine concern, attempting to arm itself with a dangerous authoritarian instrument?
(Views are personal.)
