Can the integration of PoK with the rest of India be a permanent solution to the Kashmir issue? When we see the issue in its perspective on economic, social, political or technical lines, it becomes more and more clear that the Kashmir issue will not be resolved even if we secure PoK.

Merely acquiring 13,000 square kilometres of land will certainly not help the cause of Kashmir. As the great strategist Chanakya has said, a family can be sacrificed for the good of a village; a village can be sacrificed for the good of a country. India today with a population of 1.25 billion has an area of 3.287 million sq km. Acquiring a patch of land the size of a small district, and embracing all the violent after-effects, is likely not to bring a sensible solution.

India devotes about 35 per cent of its annual budget to its defence and security. One of the main reasons for this is the ongoing conflict along the Line of Control in Kashmir. If we believe that conquering this nest of militancy and violence will solve our inherited problem, then we are living in a fool’s paradise. If India does indeed “get back” PoK, we will end up spending 50 per cent of our budget on defence alone. Do we need this? And moreover, there are no safeguards to ensure that such a move will translate into long-lasting peace.

There will, of course, be arguments that integrating PoK with Kashmir will lead to the development of the beautiful valley which has not seen much progress. In the last several decades, Pakistan has not shown an iota of interest in either peace talks with India or engaging with separatist movements in PoK. Earlier, former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee undertook the Samjhauta Bus journey to Lahore. We all know the outcome — the Kargil war. The Simla Pact, Agra Agreement, Lahore Declaration and other agreements remained just words. Will Pakistan allow for a quiet passage of PoK to India?

We all desire the development of Kashmir. Jammu and Kashmir has been granted autonomous status vide Article 370 of the Constitution, which entails various special provisions. Our focus should be on Kashmir itself and the well-being of its people. Gaining possession of the disputed land will not ensure its inclusion in the development process. Given the terror infrastructure ingrained in PoK and the fact that a section of its population is radicalised, it is unlikely that India’s “helping hand” will be welcome.

The rational thinker, Basavanna, said that a spark in the neighbour’s house will burn down your own as well. Kashmir has its own set of problems. If a move is made to occupy the disputed land, the flames of terror in the neighbourhood will not only engulf PoK, but will also claim Kashmir. In our greed for PoK, we may lose Kashmir as well. This will further strengthen the arguments of the separatists. If the entire Kashmir region demands separation from India, we will end up giving away more than we expected.

Keeping aside our emotions, if we think on political, logical and ethical grounds, it becomes apparent that gaining PoK will not serve any purpose. Those who disagree may say that PoK is an integral part of India and not regaining it would mean an embarrassment. I would have gladly accepted the argument had it been within a decade or two after Raja Hari Singh’s initial appeal for help. There has been more than seven decades of stalemate over PoK. There seems to be no silver lining in sight.

The narrative basically, even now, remains deeply hierarchical. It is heavily focussed on the district judiciary: Retired CJI V.N. Khare said in an interview that “corruption in lower courts is no secret”, and recommended a team of “dedicated judges” (mostly retired) to monitor and arrest its further spread. The second narrative suggests that the “rot” may have reached some high courts; and the origins of transfer of judges as a national policy lay firmly located in this narrative.

The third narrative suggests that acts of corruption have reached even the shores of the Supreme Court. Shanti Bhushan (and Prashant Bhushan) created a perfect moral storm in 2010 by naming eight CJI among 16 justices who were allegedly corrupt. He gave the names in a sealed envelope to the Supreme Court and even dared it to prosecute them for contempt! And this narrative was embellished by the irrepressible Justice Markandey Katju, as late as 2015, to morally impeach many justices in “higher courts”.

Everybody agrees that judgments, and accompanying interim orders, should not be sold and bought for a price. But other surrounding concepts await deeper analysis. Is “son stroke” (where near relatives of a sitting judge practice in the same jurisdiction) a corrupt act? Do always buying of land and property by close relations of a judge evidence judicial corruption? What if a judge’s spouse is an independent professional or otherwise lucratively employed? Is a membership by incumbent justices of retired justices housing society a corrupt act? Does an informal agreement to head a statutory body or a commission prior, or on the eve of retirement, amount to corruption? Should past association with a firm of lawyers, or an individual counsel, be regarded retrospectively as a potentially corrupt act or at least a ground of judicial transfer? And, how is any appellate justice to be adjudged as performing a corrupt act under the recent NJAC judgment, which suggests Third Schedule (oath of office) obligation not to recuse? How is one to describe the varieties of judicial “misconduct” as different from impeachable offences?

Careful writing will draw some bright lines between corruptibility in general and specific acts of corruption, or folklore of corruptibility and the fact (actual incidence) of judicial corruption. There is thus a distinction between (as philosopher Seyla Benhabib counselled) “generalised” and the “concrete” other. Even as a folklore grows, facts are hard to come by or establish. The folklore matters as an “evidence” of widespread popular belief about judicial governance corruption. The dominant judicial narrative accentuates contempt jurisprudence, lest popular mistrust may grow and generate collective disobedience of court’s orders, and directions. But too frequent activation, or deployment, of contempt powers may also produce a chilling effect on freedom of speech and expression and of the media freedom to report.

The constitutional courts in India remain confronted by a democratic dilemma; they have tried to walk a fine balance but the belief in contempt power is so strong that media stories are routinely killed in the apprehension of protracted judicial proceedings. The Supreme Court of India breathes a fresh air when it virtually quashes the contempt action against Transparency International and the Centre of Media Studies. It rightly remarked that such surveys “instead gave opportunity to address the malady in the system”. A bench led by Chief Justice of India J.S. Khehar (comprising also Justices D.Y. Chandrachud and Sanjay K. Kaul) said the law of contempt would not “ordinarily” extend to interview and compilation concerning corrupt judicial practises (such as bribing and exercising influence). “Where will research go if this is contempt?” asked the Court.

This is welcome relief, but we must, however, note that it came after a 11-year wait! The learned CJI, around the same time, suggested a “mechanism” for taking a “second call” on government litigation. His Lordship estimated thus a 10 per cent case-load reduction. Of course, there is some linkage between the oft-noted judicial governance corruptibility and workload delays, providing a further argument for urgency of judicial appointments and elevation.

Judicial corruption (in the strict sense of buying and selling orders and judgments) is a serious menace to basic individual freedoms. It is also inimical to judicial independence and to the constitutionally desired social order. The constitutional process for the removal of justices need not be politically cumbersome, if a constitutionally sincere approach were to prevail. And this is one constitutional process that may not belong rightfully to the judiciary, lest it prove contrary to the rule of law maxim: No person shall be a judge in her own cause.

Justice K. Ramaswamy said wisely and well, as far back as 1995, that “criticism of a judge’s conduct or of the conduct of a court even if strongly worded, is, however, not contempt,” if it is “fair, temperate and made in good faith and is not directed to the personal character of a judge or to the impartiality of a judge or court”. And we may do no better than to adhere to this constitutional prescription.

This is not the first time the BJP has made such a demand. During assembly elections in Assam last year, it went to the extent of demanding voice tests for women voters in burqa. The EC had then pointed out that a voter — including one in burqa — is allowed to cast her vote only after the poll officer verifies her photo identity card. It seems that the BJP’s remarkable win in Assam has done nothing to change its stand on women voters in the traditional Islamic attire. The party’s new demand also shows that it is either ignorant of the protocols of the EC or wants to undermine them. These protocols do not give security officers the authority to check a voter’s identity. The agency’s Handbook for Returning Officers has a provision for the identification of pardanashin women. They permit the presiding officer to rope in a local woman to identify a woman in a veil of any sort in case of doubt.Female voter turnout in the country has increased from 46 per cent in the 1962 general election to more than 65 per cent in 2014 — the gap between male and female participation has narrowed down to 2 per cent. The BJP’s attempts to give a communal colour to the participation of a section of women in the electoral process could reverse the trend. The party would do well to retract its demand to the EC.