By Sujit Bhar
In what can be modestly termed a deeply disturbing incident that is indicative of the autocratic nature of rule and the depletion of democratic norms in West Bengal, the Calcutta High Court recently witnessed scenes rarely seen in India’s civilized polity. Senior advocates, including the eminent Bikash Ranjan Bhattacharya of the CPI(M) and other senior lawyers were heckled near the Court premises by members of the ruling Trinamool Congress (TMC), helped by an unruly mob.
This happened on April 25. The episode, a reflection of the sheer intimidating arrogance and a false sense of near invincibility that the TMC is afflicted with today, completely disregarded legal decorum. If anything, it surely reflects a deepening crisis not just of governance, but of the very rule of law in the state.
The High Court responded swiftly and sternly. It initiated contempt proceedings against senior TMC spokesperson Kunal Ghosh—Ghosh had earlier been jailed once, through intervention of his own party, in the infamous Sharada chit fund scam—and several others who were reportedly instrumental in mobilizing the mob near the premises.
In a scathing rebuke, the Court emphasized that the sanctity of judicial spaces cannot be trampled upon, regardless of political allegiance or perceived grievance. Yet, the fact that such a ruling had to be made at all indicates how far the TMC and its ecosystem have deviated from constitutional norms.
A POLITICAL VOLCANO
The roots of this confrontation lie in the massive teachers’ recruitment scam that has rocked the very foundation of TMC rule in West Bengal. Nearly 26,000 teachers were sacked after the Supreme Court upheld findings of widespread corruption and illegality in the recruitment process. The scam involved the illegal appointment of unqualified candidates, allegedly in exchange for bribes and political favours, depriving meritorious candidates of their rightful employment.
The sad part is that of the nearly 26,000 who lost their jobs, many had actually passed the exams legitimately and without having bribed party officials. For them, losing their only source of income has come as a massive shock, as they are unable to now put food on the table for their families, unable to pay their EMIs or even pay for medical emergencies. The state government has said that these teachers would be paid some monthly allowances (despite the Supreme Court order) till December. There are two issues hanging fire in this. First, the December deadline does not embolden anybody to feel financially secure, and second, the TMC’s delay in filing a review petition with the Supreme Court gives rise to further doubt.
The issue has become emblematic of a governance system where nepotism and greed replaces merit and fairness. While it is undeniable that some of those sacked may have earned their positions legitimately, they have nevertheless borne the collective punishment inflicted by a corrupt system enabled by the ruling party.
Since the Supreme Court ruling, thousands of sacked teachers have taken to the streets in protest, demanding justice and reinstatement. Instead of engaging in dialogue or instituting a fair and transparent review of each case, the West Bengal government has chosen the path of brutal suppression.
Repeated instances of police brutality against protesting teachers—many of them women—have shocked the conscience of the state and of the nation. Tear gas, lathi charges, and mass detentions have become the norm. Teachers, including women, have been beaten, dragged, and manhandled simply because they dared to assert their rights to livelihood.
Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee and her party have responded to these protests not with empathy, but with suspicion and paranoia. They have claimed that “outsiders” are infiltrating the demonstrations to destabilize the state—a claim that, even if partly true, cannot justify the indiscriminate violence unleashed on teachers and citizens exercising their democratic rights.
MOBOCRACY IN COURT
The events adjacent to the Calcutta High Court premises represent a dangerous new phase in the TMC’s strategy of silencing dissent—not just on the streets, but even in Court, the very bastions of justice. The heckling of senior advocates and interference in judicial proceedings is not just contempt of court; it is contempt of democracy itself.
Kunal Ghosh, a seasoned political figure, should have known better than to involve himself in an incident that so brazenly flouts legal norms. The High Court’s decision to hold him and others in contempt sends a vital message—that the judiciary will not be bullied, no matter how powerful the political actors involved may be. But this incident also raises pressing questions: What gave Ghosh and his supporters the audacity to confront lawyers, and by inference even judges, in this manner? How deeply has the culture of mob justice permeated West Bengal’s ruling class?
The answer, it seems, lies in the TMC’s growing reliance on intimidation and populism, particularly as it finds itself increasingly cornered by corruption scandals and governance failures.
The TMC’s governance over the past decade has been marred by a pattern: accumulation of political capital through populist schemes, while simultaneously nurturing an informal economy of kickbacks, bribes, and backdoor appointments. From the Sharada chit fund scam—even if that had started in the CPI(M) era—to the latest teachers’ recruitment scandal, the party’s appetite for unaccounted wealth seems insatiable.
This greed is compounded by an alarming lack of investment and industrial growth in West Bengal. With a dwindling private sector and a shrinking manufacturing base, the state’s youth increasingly depend on government jobs. It is primarily this desperation that corrupt forces within the TMC have exploited, selling hope in exchange for money and votes.
For many of the sacked teachers, their government job represented not just financial stability, but social mobility. Some of them may indeed have secured their jobs through merit, and they are now collateral damage in a larger political and financial fraud perpetrated by those in power. The state has offered little recourse to these victims—no fast-tracked grievance redressal, no independent inquiry, just brutality and blame.
DEATH OF INSTITUTIONAL RESPECT
The High Court contempt case is only the tip of the iceberg. The real story is the slow death of institutional respect in West Bengal, as in many other parts of the country, to be fair. Courts are no longer seen by the ruling dispensation as forums for justice, but as adversaries to be cowed or manipulated. Senior advocates who challenge the establishment are treated as enemies. Police, once protectors of the law, have become tools of suppression.
This degradation is not accidental. It is a calculated political strategy designed to create an atmosphere where only one voice—the TMC’s, for West Bengal—is heard and obeyed. Judges who pass unfavourable orders are vilified. Lawyers who represent anti-TMC clients are harassed. Protesters are demonized. The party’s ability to turn every confrontation into a political vendetta has reduced governance to theatre and justice to a farce.
THE COURT’S ACTION
The Calcutta High Court issued a contempt rule against eight persons, including Kunal Ghosh. A special three-judge bench, comprising Justices Arijit Banerjee, Sabyasachi Bhattacharyya and Rajashri Bharadwaj, will hear the matter on June 16. The Court has directed the eight persons to file their replies in an affidavit by then.
The Court also sought a report from the Kolkata Police Commissioner over the incident, which has been submitted. The bench directed the Kolkata Police Commissioner to hold an inquiry and identify the persons responsible for heckling the lawyers.
During an earlier hearing on May 2, the special Bench said that prima facie it was of the view that criminal contempt had been committed by interfering with due administration of justice and scandalising the judiciary.
A group of job seekers had protested outside the chambers of Calcutta High Court lawyer Bikash Ranjan Bhattacharya on April 25. Bhattacharya and fellow lawyer Firdous Shamim, who are representing people that qualified in the School Service Commission exams of 2016, but were then allegedly deprived of employment in the recruitment scam, were heckled by protesters near the Court.
TIME FOR INTROSPECTION
As the dust settles from the High Court debacle, the TMC must introspect—though recent history suggests it will not. The judiciary has drawn a clear line: political power cannot be allowed to undermine legal order. But what of the teachers still out of jobs? What of the citizens terrified by a government that sees dissent as sedition?
Civil society, the media, and the courts must now act in concert to restore dignity to democratic processes in West Bengal. The teachers must be heard, not hunted. The corrupt must be tried, not shielded. And the mobs must be disbanded, not deployed.
If the TMC continues to place loyalty over law, it risks not only legal sanctions, but political extinction. No party, however powerful, can survive the wrath of a betrayed public forever. With the elections due next year for West Bengal, the TMC needs to take severe corrective steps to avoid any catastrophic outcome in the polls.
The contempt ruling against Kunal Ghosh and his associates is a watershed moment—not because it punishes individuals, but because it signals that the law, though battered, still holds. But laws are only as strong as the institutions that enforce them. If mob justice becomes the new normal, if even areas adjacent to courts are not safe from political hooliganism, then the very idea of constitutional democracy is at risk.