[This is a guest post by Rudraksh Lakra and Nidhi Jha.]
Introduction
The Karnataka government’s proposed Misinformation and Fake News (Prohibition) Bill, 2025 (“Misinformation Bill”) and Hate Speech and Hate Crimes (Prevention and Control) Bill, 2025 (“Hate Speech Bill”) represent an ostensibly well-intentioned but a deeply concerning attempt to grapple with the pervasive challenges of online misinformation and hate speech. A close examination of the Bills reveals provisions so vague, expansive, and constitutionally suspect they threaten to throttle legitimate dissent and discourse with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
It bears noting that this analysis is based on leaked versions of the draft Bills, as no official texts have yet been made public.
Misinformation Millstone: A Net so Wide, it Catches Common Sense
The Misinformation Bill introduces two distinct offences: misinformation and fake news. Under the Act, misinformation that is prejudicial to (i) public health, (ii) public safety, (iii) public tranquillity, or (iv) the conduct of free and fair elections is punishable. However, this provision raises serious concerns because the grounds for its application are overly broad. Article 19(2) of the Constitution exhaustively enumerates the permissible grounds for restricting free speech, but the Bill’s criteria extend beyond these limits. As a result, the law is overbroad—it captures not only instances of misinformation that meet the constitutional threshold under Article 19(2) but also those that fall short. For instance, the bill uses the term public safety, but as clarified by the Supreme Court in Ram Manohar Lohia v. State of Bihar (1965), public safety is a broader concept, and not every issue affecting public safety qualifies as a disturbance of public order, which is the relevant constitutionally permitted ground.
But the real legislative gem is the criminalization of mere “fake news.” Unlike misinformation, which is punishable only if it causes prejudice to enumerated grounds, mere fake news is penalised. This approach directly contradicts the Bombay High Court’s decision in Kunal Kamra v. Union of India (2024), which held that mere falsehood in speech cannot justify restrictions on free expression. Also, unlike in the case of misinformation, the Bill’s provisions on fake news carve out no space for legitimate speech, such as satire, sermons, or opinions.
Then there’s the grandly-named but constitutionally suspect body called the Fake News on Social Media Regulatory Authority (“the Authority”). This body isn’t just policing “fake news”; it’s a self-appointed arbiter of content that is allegedly “abusive and obscene,” “anti-feminism,” “insulting to the dignity of females,” “disrespecting Sanatan symbols and beliefs,” and “promoting superstition.” These aren’t just vague categories; they’re an open invitation to arbitrary censorship, turning the Authority into subjective thought police. Furthermore, the mandate to ensure “authentic research” in everything from science to literate to religion appears to be a poorly conceived Ph.D. review committee, albeit with armed with coercive State power. In short, the Misinformation Bill isn’t just problematic; it’s a blueprint for digital authoritarianism.
Hate Speech: Aiming for Justice, Hitting a Constitutional Wall
The hate speech provision in the Hate Crime Bill, criminalises the act of propagating, advocating, or communicating anything to one or more persons in a manner that could reasonably be construed to demonstrate a clear intention to (i) harm or incite harm, or (ii) promote or propagate hatred, based on one or more of the enumerated grounds. The list of grounds is commendable as it is comprehensive with 11 protected “characteristics or perceived characteristics”.
The definition of harm encompasses emotional, psychological, and economic harm, and the term hatred remains undefined. Critically, the provision fails to stipulate a proximate and immediate connection between the speech and the likelihood of unlawful action, as held in Shreya Singhal vs Union of India. Absent any legitimate standard of likelihood of lawless action, the Bill risks criminalising mere advocacy of unpopular or offensive ideas, which, though disagreeable, remains protected under Constitution Article 19(1)(a).
While it is fair to acknowledge the state’s attempt to legislate against hate speech and recognise the glaring gaps in India’s legal protections, it is equally vital to remember that in this country, vague and overbroad hate speech laws have historically served as convenient tools to muzzle dissent and lawful expression. Any constitutionally sound framework must be rooted in dignity, equality, and the proportionality principle. Karnataka would be wise to draw from established international standards on hate speech regulation, such as those under the ICCPR, ICERD, and within the EU.
Under the Hate Crime Bill, an intermediary may be punished for knowingly or unknowingly or due diligently aiding, abetting, or assisting in the commission of a hate crime or hate speech offence if they allow any person to use their platform to commit offenses under the Act. This provision runs counter to the Supreme Court’s decision in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India(2015), where the Court limited the liability of intermediaries to cases where they had actual knowledge, that is, upon receiving an order from a judicial authority. In Shreya Singhal and in Kunal Kamra, it was recognised that millions of pieces of content are posted online daily and holding intermediaries directly liable would incentivise them to err on the side of caution, leading to excessive censorship and creating a chilling effect on public discourse in the digital sphere. Moreover, serious doubts arise regarding whether a state government even has the competence to regulate intermediaries, as internet communications fall under the Union List and are already regulated by the IT Act, 2000. A similar concern is raised in the Misinformation Bill, which also attempts to regulate intermediaries.
Conclusion
Karnataka’s campaign against misinformation and hate speech may be understandable, but its proposed Bills are legislative bludgeons masquerading as scalpels. Vague definitions, overbroad restrictions, and unconstitutional intermediary provisions risk converting these laws into potent instruments of arbitrary censorship.
Karnataka must engage in wider consultations and revise these Bills to ensure they are narrowly tailored, clearly defined, and genuinely serve the public interest without undermining the very foundations of free expression and democratic discourse.