On May 16, the Supreme Court of India, in a display of judicial clarity and institutional restraint, dismissed the sensational claims made in a writ petition alleging that 43 Rohingya refugees—women, children, cancer patients and all—were forcibly deported by being thrown into international waters by the Indian government. The apex court rightly refused to be baited by what Justice Surya Kant described as a “very beautifully crafted story” with “absolutely no material” to support its outlandish narrative.
The Supreme Court, raising eyebrows, noted a “serious dispute” over whether the Rohingyas could even be classified as refugees. It clubbed the petition with other ongoing cases on their deportation and scheduled a crucial hearing for July 31.
This case presents more than a legal footnote; it is a serious example of how public discourse, even in the courts, can be hijacked by what increasingly resemble activist-driven fictitious tales rather than fact-based legal advocacy. For the bench, comprising Justices Surya Kant and N Kotiswar Singh, the burden of proof was non-negotiable—a stance that reaffirms the judiciary’s responsibility to balance compassion with credibility.
Allegation or allegory?
The writ petition, filed by two Rohingya refugees in Delhi, claimed that Indian authorities, under the guise of biometric data collection, detained dozens of Rohingyas, flew them to Port Blair, blindfolded them, tied their hands, and abandoned them in the sea under false pretenses—supposedly after asking whether they preferred to be deported to Myanmar or Indonesia.
In essence, the petition implied that a democratic state started behaving like rogue nations, got its professional navy allegedly to tie up refugees, put them on a military vessel, and dumped them into the ocean, like pirates in a 17th-century novel. It is little surprise, then, that the Supreme Court openly hauled over the coals the petitioners and raised serious questions about the veracity of this “fanciful” account and asked them to present even a shred of verifiable evidence.
The petitioners, led by Senior Advocate Colin Gonsalves, leaned on anecdotal phone calls and unverifiable “tape recordings from Myanmar shores.” They invoked UN reports and international law, but when pressed, had no hard evidence or credible mechanism to connect these dramatic allegations to actual, documented events. As Justice Kant aptly asked: “Who is the person watching them? Who video-recorded? How did the petitioner come back?”
Supreme Court choose realism over gullibility
For years now, the Supreme Court is well-acquainted with petitions seeking to represent minorities and their rights. It is another subject that many activists have exploited legal avenues available to them to bilk project themselves as saviours of minorities.
India’s legal system is no stranger to hearing grievances from stateless populations or minorities under threat. The Chakma case in Arunachal Pradesh (NHRC v. State of Arunachal Pradesh) is one of many examples where the judiciary stepped in to protect non-citizens’ rights. But in that case, the relief was based on hard proof in the form of concrete governmental submissions and grounded claims—not activist rhetoric buttressed by unfounded allegations and media spin.
The court rightly noted that if the May 8 three-judge bench found no basis for interim relief, it would be judicial overreach to override that with no new substantial material presented. “Every day you come with one new story,” Justice Kant observed with frustration. “When the country is going through a difficult time, you come out with such fanciful ideas.”
And there lies the core issue: the attempt to inject volatile, vague allegations into the bloodstream of national discourse under the guise of human rights advocacy and get the court to sympathize with the illegal immigrants, overlooking their brazen undermining of the sovereign law. However, the Supreme Court recognized this for what it was—an effort to cast aspersions on the Indian state with no accountability for the fallout and came down hard against the petitioners.
The weaponisation of human rights
The principle of non-refoulement is a legitimate concern in any functioning democracy. India has, in practice, often honored it, despite not being a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention. However, this does not equate to granting carte blanche to every undocumented migrant or activist network seeking to convert international sympathy into domestic policy.
India houses over 8000 Rohingya refugees with UNHCR cards. But it is also a sovereign nation, entitled to enforce its immigration laws. Moreover, incidents like Pahalgam have painfully revealed the vulnerability of the country to external threats, including from unchecked migrations, which could pose a grave national security threat if not dealt with an iron fist. If individuals are deemed to be staying illegally—especially after due process—they are subject to deportation, not as punishment, but as the natural consequence of sovereign law.
To claim that every deportation is an act of genocide or a human rights atrocity is to trivialize actual atrocities.
Erosion of trust in constitutional institutions
The most disturbing aspect of this episode isn’t just the lack of evidence. It’s the increasing trend where activist narratives are presented as legal arguments, often using emotional appeals and international organizations as pressure tactics. Courts are expected to respond not to emotion, but to evidence. When a senior advocate says, “Please hear before they die,” without establishing any factual basis for the claim, it places the judiciary in an impossible position—pressured to act on unverified drama rather than legal merit.
It also begs the question: who benefits from peddling these narratives? Certainly not the Rohingya themselves, who are being used as pawns in a political and ideological contest between sovereignty and transnational activism.
The Supreme Court’s refusal to be swept away by this melodrama is a much-needed affirmation of judicial integrity. In times when headlines often carry more weight than hard facts, the Supreme Court’s stand on the matter exemplifies truth still matters. Human rights must be defended—but not at the cost of the truth, national security, or the dignity of legal process.
Activism has its place. But when it crosses into the realm of fiction, it ceases to be advocacy and becomes propaganda. The courts of India, thankfully, are yet not impaired to not know the difference.
