The winter assembly session at Suvarna VidhanaSoudha has provided the setting for consequential moments in Karnataka’s legislative history. From debates on land reform to discussions on decentralised governance, the complex has witnessed laws that reshaped social and political life in the state. Yet few proposals have raised questions as fundamental as the Karnataka Misinformation and Fake News (Prohibition) Bill, 2025.
The bill seeks to address a genuine and growing concern: the rapid spread of misinformation in an age of instant communication, viral outrage, and algorithm-driven amplification. Governments across the world are grappling with the same dilemma. But the proposed law signals a deeper shift – one that risks transforming the state from a regulator of platforms into the arbiter of truth itself.
The central question, therefore, is not whether fake news is dangerous – it unquestionably is – but whether a democracy can preserve its character when the authority to define truth is concentrated in executive hands.
Fake News Isn’t a Digital Accident
Public discourse often treats misinformation as a by-product of social media and smartphones. This framing is misleading. Fake news is not a modern invention; it’s a historical weapon.
Across centuries, misinformation has played a decisive role during wars, colonial expansions, and political upheavals. Aggressors have routinely manipulated narratives to legitimise violence, dehumanise opponents, and manufacture consent. Long before the internet, pamphlets, rumours, controlled presses, and state propaganda served the same function that viral posts do today.
In India, misinformation has rarely remained a theoretical problem. Rumours have sparked riots, fabricated narratives have justified lynchings, and falsehoods have been weaponised against vulnerable communities. The danger of misinformation in the Indian context lies not only in its falsity, but in its capacity to translate quickly into physical harm.
This historical perspective matters, because it reminds us that while misinformation is real and dangerous, the solution cannot be a sudden concentration of power over truth. Old weapons require wisdom, not authoritarian shortcuts.
From Regulation to Adjudication
The bill proposes the creation of a Fake News on Social Media Regulatory Authority, endowed with sweeping powers to identify, prohibit, and penalise content deemed to be misinformation.Unlike independent regulatory or judicial bodies, this authority is structured in a manner that places decisive control within the executive. With senior government functionaries at its helm and members nominated by the state, the institution collapses the separation between policymaker, interpreter, and enforcer.
The punitive framework is equally striking:
- Prison terms ranging from two to five years for content considered harmful to public order;
- Up to seven years of imprisonment and heavy financial penalties in cases involving alleged malicious intent; and
- Classification of offences as cognizable and non-bailable, granting law enforcement the power to arrest without warrant.
Such provisions extend far beyond platform accountability. They introduce criminal law into the realm of expression – a move that historically carries serious consequences for dissent, journalism, and democratic debate.
Criminal Law and the Chilling Effect
In democratic societies, speech regulation has traditionally relied on narrow civil remedies, judicial oversight, and counter-speech. Criminal law, by contrast, is a blunt instrument. Its use in regulating expression generates fear well before any court intervenes.
The chilling effect of such laws is often invisible but profound. Journalists hesitate before publishing investigative reports. Activists reconsider documenting abuses. Ordinary citizens retreat into silence, unsure whether criticism may be construed as criminal misinformation.
Laws framed in broad language, without precise definitions and independent safeguards, tend to be enforced unevenly. Experience shows that such frameworks rarely trouble the powerful; instead, they find easy application against those who question authority or challenge dominant narratives.
The Government’s Defence
Defending the state’s legislative push against harmful speech, Chief Minister Siddaramaiah has framed the BJP’s opposition as politically motivated rather than rooted in concerns about free expression. Responding to criticism of the proposed law, he reportedly said, “Only those making hate and provocative speech will oppose the Bill. If you don’t make such speeches, why will some file a criminal case against you?”
From the government’s perspective, the legislation is positioned as a necessary response to what it views as the growing normalisation of hate-driven rhetoric and misinformation in public discourse. The argument suggests that resistance to regulation arises not from a principled defence of liberty, but from discomfort with restrictions on speech that thrives on polarisation.
Yet this justification also sharpens the central dilemma. Even if the intent to curb inflammatory and false narratives is legitimate, the use of criminal law and executive-led regulatory mechanisms raises serious constitutional concerns. A democracy must ensure that measures aimed at restraining harmful speech do not themselves become tools of overreach.
Ambiguity, Discretion, and Democratic Risk
The real danger of the bill lies not merely in its penalties, but in its ambiguity. Concepts such as “harm,” “misinformation,” and “public order” are inherently elastic. When these are left to executive interpretation, discretion expands while accountability shrinks.
In a plural democracy, the state’s responsibility is not to referee beliefs, opinions, or narratives, but to ensure equal protection under law. Once speech regulation becomes discretionary rather than rule-bound, it risks turning into an instrument of convenience – used selectively, unevenly, and politically.
Speech laws must therefore be judged not by their stated intentions, but by their structural design. Without narrow definitions, independent oversight, and judicial insulation, even well-intentioned legislation can corrode constitutional freedoms.
The Human Cost of Misinformation
Ironically, those most harmed by misinformation are often least protected by speech-regulation laws. Dalits, backward classes, minorities, migrants, and informal workers have repeatedly been targeted by fabricated narratives portraying them as threats, criminals, or undeserving beneficiaries.
For journalists exposing hate networks, activists documenting injustice, and citizens countering dominant propaganda, vague misinformation laws can become tools of silencing rather than shields of protection. The result is a paradox: a law meant to combat falsehood may end up shielding powerful falsehoods from scrutiny.
Religious Leadership: Potential and Failure
In a deeply traditional society, religious leaders possess the ability to shape conscience, encourage ethical discernment, and caution communities against believing everything circulated by sensationalist media.Used responsibly, this authority can play a critical role in resisting misinformation. However, across communities, some religious figures have themselves amplified false narratives – whether for political alignment, social relevance, or material gain. When moral authority is compromised, misinformation gains legitimacy rather than resistance.
This dual reality underscores a simple truth: misinformation cannot be defeated by law alone. It requires ethical leadership and social accountability.
Awareness as a Collective Responsibility
A resilient response to misinformation must be ecosystem-based, not punitive alone.Governments must prioritise transparency and restraint, civil society and NGOs must expand media literacy and independent fact-checking, community leaders must exercise moral responsibility, and citizens must cultivate habits of verification and critical thinking. For, education is the oxygen of democracy. Without it, laws suffocate debate instead of strengthening it.
Democracy does not survive on enforced silence. It survives on informed participation.