Bulldozers and the Constitution: Testing India’s Commitment to the Rule of Law

Chief Justice of India B.R. Gavai’s recent assertion that India “will be governed by the rule of law, not by the rule of the bulldozer” was not a rhetorical flourish but a judicial reminder of the Republic’s moral and legal foundation. His statement came amid increasing public concern over the growing use of demolition drives — often executed immediately after communal disturbances — which many see as punitive rather than administrative. These demolitions, particularly the recent ones in Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh, and parts of Gujarat, have brought the debate over “bulldozer justice” back to the national stage.

At the heart of this debate lies a fundamental constitutional question: when the State takes coercive action against citizens, does it still act under the discipline of law, or has it begun to act above it? The rule of law — a doctrine that has guided every mature democracy — demands that every act of the State be authorized by law, follow due process, and treat all citizens with equality. When these conditions are compromised, governance risks slipping into arbitrariness — the very danger the Constitution was designed to prevent.

According to reports, the Bareilly demolitions occurred days after communal tensions erupted during a religious procession. Local authorities justified the demolitions as part of an anti-encroachment campaign. Yet residents and civil society groups have pointed out that the timing and manner of the operations created the perception that they were punitive actions directed against specific communities. Several owners claimed they were neither given prior notice nor an opportunity to present their case before their structures were razed. Similar scenes were reported from Gujarat, where shops and homes were demolished in the aftermath of communal unrest. Officials there too defended the actions as routine enforcement of building regulations. But the proximity between the violence and the demolitions raised troubling questions about motive and legality.

The law itself provides clear safeguards. Under the Uttar Pradesh Urban Planning and Development Act and similar state laws, authorities may remove unauthorized constructions, but they must first serve a notice, give a reasonable time to respond, and provide an opportunity for a hearing. These requirements are not procedural formalities — they are expressions of a constitutional principle enshrined in Article 21 of the Constitution, which guarantees that no person shall be deprived of life or personal liberty except according to procedure established by law. The Supreme Court has repeatedly interpreted “procedure” to mean fair, just, and reasonable procedure. In effect, even the removal of an illegal structure cannot be done in a manner that violates this guarantee.

When bulldozers arrive without notice, this principle collapses. It transforms a legal process into an executive act of punishment. The judiciary has consistently warned against such practices. In Olga Tellis v. Bombay Municipal Corporation (1985), the Supreme Court held that even pavement dwellers, though living on unauthorized land, were entitled to notice and hearing before eviction. The Court emphasized that livelihood and shelter are integral to the right to life. The same logic applies with equal force today: illegality of construction does not nullify the right to fair treatment.

Article 14 of the Constitution further strengthens this position. It guarantees equality before the law and prohibits arbitrary or discriminatory action by the State. If demolitions appear to target particular communities or are conducted selectively in the wake of communal incidents, they invite scrutiny under this provision. Equality before law does not merely mean equal punishment; it means equal protection of legal safeguards. Selective enforcement, even when clothed in legality, becomes unconstitutional when it singles out a section of citizens.

In his speech, CJI Gavai’s emphasis on “rule of law” carries historical resonance. The phrase traces back to A.V. Dicey, who defined it as the absolute supremacy of regular law over arbitrary power. In India, this concept has been woven into the Constitution through the Preamble’s commitment to justice, liberty, and equality. The judiciary has described it as part of the basic structure of the Constitution — something that cannot be amended or suspended, even by Parliament. Therefore, when state actions seem to bypass judicial scrutiny or preempt court processes, they touch the very core of India’s constitutional identity.

Beyond the legal framework, the moral and institutional implications of bulldozer-driven governance are profound. The Constitution envisions a system in which the executive, legislature, and judiciary operate within clearly defined limits. The executive’s strength lies in its obedience to law, not its defiance of it. Administrative might cannot substitute judicial verdicts. When punishment is delivered through demolition rather than through courts, it conveys that power, not justice, governs outcomes. This perception erodes the citizens’ trust — the most vital currency of any democracy.

Moreover, these incidents raise questions about the accountability of local administration and police. In several cases, demolition orders are executed under the pretext of restoring order or responding to public outrage. But such actions often lack transparent documentation. A genuine rule-of-law culture requires that every coercive act by the State be backed by verifiable legal authority, reasons recorded in writing, and an opportunity for affected citizens to challenge those reasons. The absence of these checks creates fertile ground for abuse and politicization of enforcement.

It is worth recalling that even in matters of national security and emergency, the Supreme Court has insisted on judicial oversight. The principles of natural justice — audi alteram partem (hear the other side) and nemo judex in causa sua (no one should be a judge in their own cause) — are cornerstones of administrative law. Demolition drives that occur in response to communal unrest risk turning the State into both accuser and executor, collapsing these principles entirely.

Legal scholars have argued that the symbolism of the bulldozer in recent political discourse compounds the problem. It has come to represent decisive governance and strong authority — traits often celebrated in electoral politics. However, when political symbolism enters the arena of administrative action, it endangers the neutrality of the rule of law. The State must be seen as an impartial enforcer, not as a participant in populist narratives. Judicial pronouncements over the past two decades, from Maneka Gandhi to K.S. Puttaswamy, have reiterated that the dignity of the individual lies at the heart of constitutional governance. Bulldozer actions that humiliate or displace citizens without recourse strike directly at that dignity.

In this context, the judiciary’s role becomes even more crucial. Courts must not only adjudicate violations after they occur but also act preventively by setting clear procedural standards for administrative actions. High Courts across India have at times intervened to stay demolitions, demanding evidence of notice and legal authority. However, the inconsistency of judicial responses across states has created ambiguity. A uniform jurisprudence affirming that no demolition can occur without due process — regardless of the alleged illegality of the structure — would reinforce the constitutional principle that justice cannot be delivered by machines but only by law.

The larger constitutional philosophy behind CJI Gavai’s statement is that the State’s legitimacy flows from restraint. Democracy is not measured by the number of its laws but by the fairness of their enforcement. When institutions appear to act out of anger, public pressure, or political symbolism, the delicate balance between authority and accountability is lost. Restoring this balance requires transparency, legal discipline, and the courage to prioritize principle over populism.

Ultimately, the issue is not about bulldozers alone. It is about what they represent — the temptation of quick justice, the bypassing of legal procedure, and the erosion of constitutional faith. The Constitution is not merely a document of governance; it is a moral contract between the State and its citizens. Its promises of equality, dignity, and fairness are not negotiable based on circumstance or sentiment. Each unlawful demolition, each ignored notice, each silence in the face of executive excess chips away at that contract.

CJI Gavai’s warning was therefore both timely and essential. The rule of law is not self-sustaining; it survives through vigilance — of citizens, of institutions, and above all, of those entrusted with power. The true test of the Republic lies not in how swiftly it acts against disorder, but in how faithfully it adheres to the discipline of justice while doing so. The bulldozer may clear physical structures, but it cannot be allowed to clear away the safeguards that make India a constitutional democracy.