By Dilip Bobb
There are no lengths to which governments—state and centre—will not go to redefine the meaning of “fake news”. And more often than not, the provocation is viewed through a deeply political lens. The latest—and arguably most chilling—example is the Karnataka Misinformation and Fake News (Prohibition) Bill, 2025, introduced as a draft on July 1. Activists and media professionals, including digital rights groups, have universally condemned it as a “bill of bad faith”. That’s because the Bill’s definition of fake news is so all-encompassing—and so subjective—that it threatens to turn political discomfort into criminal liability.
A LAW WITHOUT LIMITS
Among the many so-called offenses the Bill defines as punishable is any online content deemed “anti-feminism” or showing “disrespect” to Sanatan symbols—a term left disturbingly undefined. Those found guilty face up to seven years in jail and a Rs 10 lakh fine. The most alarming part: These offenses will be judged not by courts of law, but by a government-appointed authority, chaired by the state information and broadcasting minister.
That authority will also include the Minister for Kannada and Culture, handpicked legislators, and two representatives from social media platforms—also appointed by the government. A senior bureaucrat will serve as secretary. In essence, a political body will become the judge, jury, and enforcer of truth.
ECHOES OF THE EMERGENCY
The parallels with the Emergency era of 1975, now exactly 50 years ago, are unmistakable. Then too, censorship was justified as a necessary evil for national stability. Today, the justification is misinformation. But the result is similar: a law that places chilling restrictions on satire, spoof, comedy, and dissent—all undefined and unprotected under the Bill.
The Bill demands that only content “based on authentic research on subjects related to science, history, religion, philosophy and literature” can be posted. In other words, no politics allowed—unless it’s state-sanctioned politics.
A SUPREME COURT WARNING IGNORED
The Bill makes a mockery of the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in Shreya Singhal vs Union of India (2013), which struck down Section 66A of the IT Act as unconstitutional for being vague and overbroad. Free speech advocates argue the Karnataka Bill does precisely what the Court warned against—weaponizing arbitrary power under the pretext of curbing fake news.
“Misinformation is fairly subjective, and every person who uses the internet is susceptible to falling within the dragnet of this law,” says Apar Gupta of the Internet Freedom Foundation.
THE CORPORATE CHILL
The implications extend far beyond individuals. Bengaluru is home to offices of global tech and social media giants, whose platforms could now be held criminally liable for user-generated content. The Bill explicitly strips social media platforms of their “safe harbour” protections provided under the Information Technology Act, 2000, meaning companies may be prosecuted for what users post.
The legal framework shifts from platform responsibility to state surveillance, discouraging companies from operating freely in India’s tech capital. Worse, it sets a dangerous precedent for other states to follow suit.
HYPOCRISY IN HIGH PLACES
The Congress-led Karnataka government has often attacked the BJP for stifling dissent and free speech through draconian laws. But now, it faces the same charges. Gupta notes that the Bill “guts the moral authority” with which the Congress criticizes the centre. “The vagueness is matched only by its severity,” he says.
A BLUNT WEAPON FOR A COMPLEX PROBLEM
As the Deccan Herald headlined in its editorial, this is a “Remedy Worse Than the Menace”. SFLC.in, a digital rights group warns that such criminalization will stifle dissenting voices, muzzle independent journalism, and produce a “chilling effect” on freedom of speech.
In a January 2024 judgment, Justice Gautam Patel of the Bombay High Court struck down the centre’s own “Fact Check Unit” for similar reasons, stating: “Vagueness and overbreadth are both linked to the concept of the chilling effect. Every attempt to whittle down a fundamental right must be resisted root and branch.” The Karnataka Bill is cut from the same cloth—and just as likely to face constitutional pushback.
A DANGEROUS NATIONAL TEMPLATE
What’s more alarming is that the Bill may violate federal norms, since regulation of digital platforms is the domain of the Union government. If passed, it could embolden other states to pass similar legislation, leading to a patchwork of political censorship across India.
Malaysia once passed a similar “Anti-Fake News Act”—it was repealed amid backlash. Singapore’s softer version avoids criminal penalties and ensures ministerial oversight, not criminal enforcement. Karnataka’s version, critics say, is harsher and more regressive than either.
THE REAL STAKES: DEMOCRACY VS DEEPFAKES
India already has multiple laws governing hate speech and misinformation. Yet Karnataka’s Law Minister HK Patil insists the Bill is a response to rising online toxicity, especially in an era of AI-generated deepfakes and virality-driven disinformation.
But even Prime Minister Narendra Modi—featured in a viral deepfake video—cautioned that people must become smarter at distinguishing truth from fabrication. That’s not an argument for state overreach; it’s a call for public awareness and digital literacy.
THE THIN LINE BETWEEN CONTROL AND CENSORSHIP
Justice Abhay S Oka recently reminded us that “hate speech is weaponized to bear political dividends”. A democracy must protect protest, dissent, and satire. Karnataka’s Bill does the opposite. It narrows the space for humour, art, and journalism in the name of public order, and grants unchecked power to politicians already prone to offense.
In a country with nearly one billion internet users, most of whom rely on social media for news and expression, laws like these do not regulate chaos—they create it.
—The writer is former Senior Managing Editor, India Legal magazine