The Supreme Court’s decision to seek responses from the Centre, states, Union Territories, and major social-media platforms over the publication of accused persons’ identities and degrading images is a timely reminder that the power of the state does not extend to public humiliation. The law remembers what courts may eventually reject.
An accused person is not a convicted person. That elementary principle of criminal justice is easily forgotten when photographs of suspects are circulated online, sometimes accompanied by language that effectively declares them guilty before a court has examined the evidence. Once an image is published, the damage cannot simply be undone by an acquittal years later.
The petition before the Supreme Court points to an even more troubling practice: images allegedly showing accused people handcuffed, tied with ropes, beaten with sticks, forced to kneel, dragged or pulled down stairs. Such material is not merely inappropriate publicity. It raises profound questions about dignity, proportionality and the limits of police authority.
There is a legitimate public interest in knowing about crime and the work of law-enforcement agencies. Police departments have a responsibility to communicate with citizens, correct misinformation and provide verified information about investigations. But transparency is not synonymous with spectacle.
Nor does publishing humiliating images necessarily strengthen the fight against crime. Social media rewards outrage, instant judgment and dramatic imagery. Law enforcement agencies, whose authority is already considerable, should be particularly careful not to feed that ecosystem.
The principle of presumption of innocence exists precisely because justice cannot be reduced to appearances. A person may be suspected of committing a serious offence and yet ultimately be acquitted. Evidence may collapse. Witnesses may change their testimony. Investigations may uncover that the wrong person was arrested. Courts may find that constitutional or procedural safeguards were violated. If an individual has already been publicly branded a criminal, none of those outcomes can fully restore the lost dignity, reputation or employment opportunities.
The state possesses powers that ordinary citizens do not. Police can arrest, interrogate and restrict liberty under law. That asymmetry makes restraint indispensable. Handcuffing, public parading, forced kneeling or other degrading treatment cannot become instruments of publicity merely because cameras and social-media accounts are readily available.
The Supreme Court’s intervention should therefore lead to clear, uniform rules rather than vague assurances. Police departments need transparent guidelines on what may be photographed, filmed and published during an investigation. Personal details and identifiable images should not be disclosed merely to demonstrate that the police have acted. Where disclosure is genuinely necessary in the public interest – such as seeking information about a wanted suspect – it should be narrowly tailored and subject to safeguards.
Social-media companies also have a responsibility. Content showing alleged custodial abuse or the dehumanisation of accused persons should not be treated simply as another engagement-generating post. Users should have a meaningful mechanism to report such material, and complaints involving alleged violations of dignity should be handled through a prompt and accountable process.
None of this means shielding criminals from scrutiny or preventing legitimate reporting. Journalism, public accountability and lawful police communication must remain protected. The issue is narrower and more fundamental: whether an accusation should become an excuse for humiliation.
A democratic society must be capable of fighting crime without abandoning the values it claims to defend. The strongest police force is not the one that humiliates suspects before cameras. It is the one confident enough to let evidence, due process, and the courts determine guilt.
Until then, the accused remains an accused. The law must leave room for that distinction – because justice loses its meaning when punishment begins before judgment.
