Misinformation and Rumours during Civil Unrest: State Response without Unconstitutional Censorship

Misinformation and Rumours during Civil Unrest: State Response without Unconstitutional Censorship

Keywords:

Information Integrity, Misinformation, Civil Unrest, Freedom of Speech, Digital
Governance, Constitutional Law.

Abstract

During episodes of civil unrest, such as riots, protests, and communal violence,
misinformation and rumours travel faster than verified facts, often through social media and
messaging apps, and this can turn a tense situation into a violent one within hours. Governments
are then caught between two competing duties: they must keep public order and prevent the
outbreak of further violence, but at the same time they cannot trample upon the right to freedom
of speech and expression that Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution of India guarantees to every
citizen. This article examines how Indian law tries to strike this balance, and whether tools
used by the State — internet shutdowns, content blocking, arrests under criminal law, and factchecking units — actually meet the constitutional test of reasonableness under Article 19(2). Using a doctrinal method, the article studies the relevant statutes, the Information Technology
Rules, 2021, and landmark Supreme Court judgments including Shreya Singhal, Anuradha
Bhasin, and Puttaswamy, and also compares India’s approach with the European Union, the
United Kingdom, Singapore, and Australia. The article finds that while some legal safeguards
exist on paper, they are rarely followed in practice, and courts have repeatedly had to step in to
correct executive overreach. It concludes that any State response to misinformation during
unrest must remain proportionate, transparent, and open to judicial review, because unchecked
censorship, even if well-intentioned, damages democracy more than the misinformation it
seeks to control.

1. Introduction

Over the last decade, the way information travels in India has changed completely. A
rumour that once took days to spread through word of mouth in a village now reaches lakhs of
people within minutes through WhatsApp forwards, Twitter/X threads, and Facebook posts.
This has obvious benefits — news, warnings, and requests for help move fast — but it also
means that false or exaggerated information moves at the same speed, or faster, because it is
usually more dramatic and shareable than the plain truth. During civil unrest, whether a
communal riot, a caste clash, or a protest that turns violent, this speed becomes dangerous. A
single doctored photo or a false claim about an attack on a community can push an already
tense crowd into violence before any authority has had time to verify or deny it.

This creates a genuine constitutional problem for the government. On one hand, Article
19(1)(a) of the Constitution guarantees every citizen the freedom of speech and expression1
, and the Supreme Court has repeatedly held that this freedom includes the right to receive and
circulate information, including over the internet. On the other hand, the State has an equally
real duty to maintain public order and protect life and property when a riot or unrest is
unfolding. Article 19(2) allows the State to impose “reasonable restrictions” on speech in the
interest of public order, but the word “reasonable” is doing a lot of work here — it means
restrictions cannot be excessive, vague, or used as an excuse to silence dissent or embarrass
the government.

This article tries to answer a narrow but important question: what does a constitutionally
valid State response to misinformation during civil unrest actually look like? To answer this,
the article examines the relevant provisions of the Constitution, the Information Technology
Act, 2000, the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, and the Information Technology Rules, 2021,
along with major Supreme Court decisions on internet shutdowns, online speech, and privacy.
It then compares India’s legal framework with the approaches followed in the European Union,
the United Kingdom, Singapore, and Australia. The research relies on a doctrinal method — a
close reading of statutes, rules, and case law — supported by comparative analysis, in order to
arrive at practical recommendations for reform.

2. Understanding Information Integrity and Misinformation

Before discussing the law, it helps to be clear about what is meant by “misinformation.”
Misinformation is false information shared by someone who genuinely believes it to be true —
for example, a person forwarding a fake casualty count during a riot because they think it is
real. Disinformation, in contrast, is false information created and spread deliberately to mislead
people, often for political or communal gain. Malinformation is different again: it is genuine,
true information shared with the intent to cause harm, such as leaking someone’s private address
during communal tension to enable an attack on them. These distinctions matter legally,
because the law can, and often should, treat an innocent forwarder differently from someone
who deliberately manufactures a rumour to provoke violence.

Social media platforms are built to maximise engagement, and content that triggers
strong emotion — fear, anger, outrage — tends to spread faster than calm, factual reporting.
Recommendation algorithms on platforms such as Facebook, YouTube, and X are designed to
show users more of what keeps them scrolling, which often means more sensational content,
regardless of whether it is true. Messaging apps like WhatsApp make this worse because
forwards happen inside private groups where no one can fact-check in real time, and end-toend encryption means platforms themselves cannot see the content being shared. Increasingly, generative artificial intelligence tools make it possible to create convincing fake photos, videos,
and audio clips within minutes, adding a new and more dangerous layer to this problem.

The consequences of misinformation during unrest are not abstract — they are
immediate and often violent. A false rumour about an attack on a temple, mosque, or particular
community can trigger retaliatory violence before the truth catches up. Economic activity in
affected areas often shuts down out of fear, shopkeepers close early, and daily-wage workers
lose income they cannot afford to lose. Misinformation also deepens communal and caste
divisions long after the immediate unrest has passed, because people tend to remember the
rumour even after it has been proven false. Perhaps most seriously, when people later realise
that they acted on false information, or that official statements were also unreliable, trust in the
media and in democratic institutions erodes further.

Because of all this, protecting information integrity is not merely a technical or publicorder issue — it goes to the heart of how democracy functions. Citizens can only participate meaningfully in public life, vote sensibly, and hold the government accountable if they have
access to broadly reliable information. If misinformation is allowed to run unchecked, public
discourse becomes poisoned and decisions, both by citizens and by the State, get made on false
premises. At the same time, if the State uses “misinformation control” as a cover to suppress
uncomfortable truths or legitimate criticism, that is equally damaging to democracy. This is
precisely why any response to misinformation must be judged not only on whether it works,
but on whether it respects constitutional values.

3. Constitutional and Legal Framework

Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution of India guarantees to all citizens the fundamental
right to freedom of speech and expression4. The Supreme Court has interpreted this right
broadly over the decades, holding that it includes the right to express one’s views through any
medium, the right to receive information, and, by extension, the right to access the internet as
a medium of expression, as held in Anuradha Bhasin5. This right is not confined to political
speech alone; it protects artistic, commercial, and even unpopular or inconvenient expression,
so long as it does not fall within the specific grounds listed in Article 19(2).

Article 19(2) permits the State to impose reasonable restrictions on this freedom on
specified grounds, including the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State,
friendly relations with foreign States, public order, decency or morality, contempt of court,
defamation, and incitement to an offence6. “Public order” is the ground most relevant to civil
unrest, but the Supreme Court has long insisted that not every disturbance qualifies — in S.
Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, the Court held that the connection between the speech and the
public disorder must be proximate, almost like a “spark in a powder keg,” and not merely
remote or speculative.

Any restriction under Article 19(2) must also satisfy the doctrine of proportionality, a
standard the Supreme Court formally adopted, notably in K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India8.
Under this doctrine, a restriction is valid only if it pursues a legitimate aim, is suitable to
achieve that aim, is necessary in the sense that no less restrictive alternative is available, and
does not disproportionately burden the right when weighed against the benefit gained. Applied to misinformation control, this means the State cannot, for instance, shut down the entire internet across a district merely because a few rumours are circulating in one WhatsApp group
— the response must be narrowly tailored to the actual threat.

At the statutory level, the Information Technology Act, 2000 empowers the government
under Section 69A to block public access to online content in the interest of, among other
things, public order, subject to certain procedural safeguards9
. The Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita,
2023, which replaced the Indian Penal Code, retains offences relevant to misinformation during
unrest, including provisions on promoting enmity between groups and making statements
conducive to public mischief10. The Information Technology Rules, 2021 additionally place
due-diligence obligations on social media intermediaries, including grievance-redressal
mechanisms and, for large platforms, traceability requirements for the first originator of certain
messages.

Internet shutdowns are ordered under the Temporary Suspension of Telecom Services
Rules, 2017, framed under the Telegraph Act, and require an order from a competent authority,
usually at the level of a Secretary, with a mandatory review by a committee within a short
period12. Website and content blocking under Section 69A requires a similar committee-based
review process, and orders are meant to be reasoned and recorded, though in practice they are
frequently not published, which raises transparency concerns. Intermediaries such as social
media platforms enjoy conditional immunity from liability under Section 79 of the IT Act,
provided they comply with government or court takedown orders and follow the due-diligence
requirements under the 2021 Rules.

Taken together, the existing legal framework does give the State real tools to respond
to misinformation, and it does contain procedural checks such as committee review and time
limits. However, the framework is weaker on transparency — many blocking and shutdown
orders are never made public, which makes it hard for affected citizens to challenge them —
and it relies heavily on executive discretion rather than automatic judicial oversight. Whether
this framework is truly “adequate,” therefore, depends less on the words printed in the statute and more on how consistently the safeguards are actually followed in practice, which is exactly where judicial intervention has repeatedly become necessary.

4. Judicial Interpretation and State Response

Because the executive branch controls most of the tools used against misinformation
— shutdowns, blocking orders, arrests — constitutional courts have become the main check
on their overreach. Over the past decade, the Supreme Court and various High Courts have
repeatedly been called upon to examine whether government action taken in the name of public
order during unrest actually meets constitutional standards, or whether it is an excessive and
disproportionate response dressed up in the language of security. This judicial scrutiny has
produced a body of case law that today forms the backbone of Indian free-speech jurisprudence
in the digital era.

In Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, the Supreme Court struck down Section 66A of
the Information Technology Act, which had criminalised sending “grossly offensive” or
“menacing” messages online, on the ground that the provision was vague and had a chilling
effect on free speech, going far beyond the reasonable restrictions permitted under Article
19(2)13. The Court held that mere discussion or even advocacy of a cause, however unpopular,
cannot be restricted unless it reaches the level of incitement having a proximate connection to
public disorder. This judgment remains the single most important precedent protecting online
speech in India and is regularly invoked whenever a new law is challenged as vague or
overbroad.

In Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India, decided during the prolonged internet shutdown
in Jammu and Kashmir, the Supreme Court held that access to the internet is protected under
Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(g), and that any suspension must satisfy the tests of necessity and
proportionality14. The Court directed that shutdown orders must be published, must be
reasoned, and must be reviewed periodically, and that indefinite shutdowns are impermissible.
Importantly, the Court placed the burden on the State to justify the restriction, rather than
requiring citizens to prove that the restriction was unreasonable, meaningfully shifting the
balance in favour of the fundamental right.

K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India, while primarily concerned with the right to privacy,
is equally relevant here because it formally established the four-part proportionality test that
now applies to any restriction on fundamental rights, including speech-related restrictions
imposed to counter misinformation15. The judgment insists that the State must show a
legitimate purpose, a rational connection between the measure and that purpose, that no less
intrusive alternative was available, and that the measure does not disproportionately harm the
right. This test has since been used to evaluate everything from data collection to internet
shutdowns, and it directly limits how far the State can go while tackling misinformation online.

Other decisions add further texture to this picture. In Secretary, Ministry of Information
& Broadcasting v. Cricket Association of Bengal, the Court held that airwaves are public
property and that the right to freedom of speech includes the right to disseminate and receive
information through the electronic media, a principle courts have since extended, by analogy,
to internet-based communication16. Similarly, in S. Rangarajan, discussed earlier, the Court
cautioned that the State cannot ban speech merely because a hostile audience might react
violently, since that would allow a heckler’s veto and let the most intolerant members of society
decide what everyone else may say or hear.

Judged against this body of case law, actual government responses during episodes of
unrest — such as the internet shutdowns during the 2020 Delhi riots and the prolonged
shutdown during the 2023 Manipur violence, or content-blocking orders and arrests made
under public-order provisions — show a mixed record. Some responses, such as short,
geographically limited shutdowns with clear review timelines, arguably meet the
proportionality standard. Others, such as shutdowns lasting weeks or months, or the blocking
of entire social media platforms rather than specific content, sit uneasily with the Anuradha
Bhasin standard and have drawn criticism from courts, the National Human Rights
Commission, and international bodies for going well beyond what was necessary to prevent
violence.

Reading these cases together, a fairly consistent judicial position emerges. Courts have
repeatedly insisted that restrictions on speech, however well-intentioned, must be backed by a
genuine and proximate threat to public order, must be the least restrictive option reasonably
available, must be time-bound and subject to periodic review, and must be transparent enough that affected citizens can actually challenge them. What courts have not done is give the executive a free pass simply because a restriction is framed as necessary for “national security”
or “public order” — each such claim must still be justified on facts, not merely asserted.

5. Comparative International Approaches

The European Union’s Digital Services Act, which came into force in 2022, takes a
structural approach to misinformation by placing obligations directly on large online platforms
rather than only criminalising individual users17. Very large platforms are required to assess
and mitigate “systemic risks,” including the risk that their services are used to spread
disinformation that could affect public security or civic discourse, and must submit to
independent audits and grant researchers access to platform data. The emphasis is on the
transparency and accountability of the platform itself, with regulators empowered to demand
risk assessments and impose substantial fines for non-compliance, rather than on the
government directly ordering shutdowns.

The United Kingdom’s Online Safety Act similarly places duties on platforms to
address illegal and harmful content, though it has faced criticism for giving broad discretion to
its regulator, Ofcom, over what counts as harmful. Singapore’s Protection from Online
Falsehoods and Manipulation Act allows government ministers to order corrections or removal
of statements they consider false and prejudicial to the public interest, an approach that is
efficient but has been criticised for giving the executive too much unchecked power over what
counts as “false.” Australia relies on a voluntary industry code with platforms, backed by a
regulator that can compel information but has comparatively limited direct takedown powers,
reflecting a lighter-touch model than Singapore’s.

Compared with these models, India’s framework sits somewhere in between: like the
EU, it imposes due-diligence obligations on intermediaries through the 2021 IT Rules, but like
Singapore, it also allows fairly broad executive powers to block content and suspend internet
access, without the kind of independent regulator or mandatory transparency reporting that the
EU model requires. The clearest lesson India can draw from the EU is the value of structural,
platform-level accountability and published transparency reports, which reduce reliance on
blunt tools such as shutdowns. From Singapore and the UK, the lesson is more cautionary — unchecked ministerial or regulatory discretion over “truth” tends to invite executive overreach, which is exactly what Indian courts have been trying to guard against.

6. Recommendations

First, India needs stronger and more consistent judicial oversight of blocking and
shutdown orders, ideally through a requirement that every such order be automatically placed
before a judicial or quasi-judicial authority within a fixed period, rather than relying on affected
citizens to approach courts on their own. Blocking orders under Section 69A and shutdown
orders under the Telecom Suspension Rules should be published in a standard, accessible
format as a rule rather than an exception, so that the reasoning behind them can be tested against
the proportionality standard the Supreme Court has already laid down.

Second, platform accountability needs to be strengthened along the lines of the EU
model, with large platforms required to publish regular transparency reports on content removal
and government requests, and to support independent, well-funded fact-checking organisations
rather than relying only on in-house moderation. Alongside this, sustained public investment
in digital literacy — teaching people, especially in smaller towns and rural areas, how to check
a claim before forwarding it — would reduce the demand side of misinformation. The use of
artificial intelligence for detection should always be paired with human review to avoid
wrongful takedowns.

Third, reforms should be designed around constitutional values rather than short-term
convenience. This means the government should be required to justify every future publicorder restriction with actual evidence of a proximate threat, not merely a general apprehensionof unrest. Policy on misinformation should be developed through public consultation and be
evidence-based, drawing on data about what actually caused violence in past incidents such as
the Delhi riots or the Manipur violence, rather than being drafted reactively during a crisis,
when the temptation to over-restrict is at its highest.

7. Conclusion

Misinformation during civil unrest is a real and serious problem — it can turn a tense
but manageable situation into a violent one, and it leaves lasting damage to trust between
communities and towards public institutions. This article has shown that Indian law does give
the government meaningful tools to respond, from content blocking under the IT Act to internet
shutdowns and criminal provisions under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita. But it has also shown,
through cases such as Shreya Singhal, Anuradha Bhasin, and Puttaswamy, that these tools are
not unlimited — every restriction on speech must be justified by a proximate threat to public
order, must be proportionate, and must remain open to challenge. The constitutional dilemma,
in other words, is not really about choosing between order and liberty; it is about ensuring that
the State does not use one as a permanent excuse to sacrifice the other.

Ultimately, information integrity in a democracy cannot be protected by censorship
alone, because censorship that is not transparent or judicially checked tends to erode the very
trust it is meant to protect. What is needed instead is a combination of proportionate legal
measures, active judicial oversight, transparent decision-making by the executive, platform
accountability along the lines the European Union has adopted, and long-term investment in
public digital literacy. If India follows this path, it can respond effectively to the genuine
dangers of misinformation during unrest without repeating the mistakes of excessive,
unreviewed, or indefinite restrictions that courts have already flagged as unconstitutional.
Democratic societies must be able to fight falsehood without becoming less democratic in the
process.

References

Constitutional Provisions

1. INDIA CONST. art. 19(1)(a).
2. INDIA CONST. art. 19(2).

Statutes & Rules

3. Information Technology Act, No. 21 of 2000, INDIA CODE.
4. Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, No. 45 of 2023, INDIA CODE.
5. Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021, G.S.R. 139(E).
6. Temporary Suspension of Telecom Services (Public Emergency or Public Safety) Rules, 2017, G.S.R. 977(E).

Cases

7. Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, (2015) 5 SCC 1 (India).
8. Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India, (2020) 3 SCC 637 (India).
9. K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India, (2017) 10 SCC 1 (India).
10. S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, (1989) 2 SCC 574 (India).
11. Secretary, Ministry of Information & Broadcasting v. Cricket Association of Bengal, (1995) 2 SCC 161 (India).

International Instruments

12. Regulation (EU) 2022/2065 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 19 October 2022 on a Single Market for Digital Services (Digital Services Act), 2022 O.J. (L 277) 1.
13. Online Safety Act 2023 (U.K.).
14. Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act 2019 (Singapore).

Books & Reports

15. The Constitution of India, 9th ed. (LexisNexis, 2024).
16. Law Commission of India, Reports on Freedom of Speech and Information Technology.
17. Internet Freedom Foundation, Reports on Internet Shutdowns in India.
18. Software Freedom Law Center, India, Internet Shutdown Tracker.
19. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, Guidelines for the Governance of Digital Platforms.

Online Sources

20. Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology, Information Technology Rules and Notifications.
21. PRS Legislative Research, Legislative Briefs on the Information Technology Act and Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita.
22. European Commission, Digital Services Act Documentation.
23. Ofcom, Guidance on the Online Safety Act.