By design, the Public Interest Litigation (PIL) was never meant to be a political soapbox. Yet, its purpose has steadily drifted from serving the voiceless to serving political convenience. Two recent judicial orders signal that this will no longer be tolerated.

Only few innovations in Indian jurisprudence have been as transformative as the PIL. Born of judicial activism in the late 1970s and 1980s, it opened the gates of justice to those long excluded.

From the Vishaka guidelines that provided a shield against sexual harassment at the workplace to the DK Basu guidelines that sought to humanise the process of arrest and detention, from environmental jurisprudence that preserved rivers and forests to directives protecting prisoners’ rights, PILs have often served as the conscience of the judiciary. They stepped in where the legislature had hesitated and where the executive had faltered.

But like all instruments of power, the PIL was vulnerable to misuse and abuse. What was designed to be a weapon in the hands of the powerless has, too often, been commandeered by the powerful for purposes far removed from the public good.

Last week, we saw a welcome assertion of judicial will to address this malaise. The Supreme Court, in a case filed by an AIADMK Member of Parliament against Tamil Nadu’s “Ungaludan Stalin” scheme, not only dismissed the petition as “misconceived” but also imposed costs of ₹10 lakh on the petitioner. The Bench led by Chief Justice BR Gavai minced no words:

“Time and again, we have observed that political battles should be fought before the electorate. The courts should not be used to settle political scores between political parties.”

On the same theme, the Madras High Court recently dismissed at the admission stage a PIL filed by an advocate challenging the appointment of senior IAS officers as government spokespersons. It did so with costs of ₹1 lakh, signalling that the public’s interest must be genuine; not a convenient fig leaf for personal or political motives.

These two cases are not isolated irritants; they reflect a deeper, growing trend. The PIL, conceived as an exceptional remedy for exceptional wrongs, has too often become a stage for political theatre or a shortcut to publicity. Frivolous petitions clog dockets, diverting judicial time from urgent constitutional questions, serious criminal appeals and disputes affecting the lives of ordinary citizens.

For decades, courts have warned against such abuse. Chief Justice SH Kapadia even urged the imposition of heavy costs on frivolous litigants. By 2011, the misuse was so entrenched that the Supreme Court issued guidelines to curb the filing of spurious PILs. Yet warnings have largely been met with polite reproach or nominal costs, allowing the abuse to persist, and even flourish, under the comfort that the price of indulgence is negligible.

It is here that the recent decisions stand out. Imposing exemplary costs is not a punitive reflex; it is a necessary assertion of judicial discipline. It sends a message that the court’s time is not a commodity to be squandered, that the majesty of the forum demands seriousness and that the constitutional jurisdiction vested in the Supreme Court and High Courts is a public trust, not a political convenience.

Some may argue that the imposition of such costs might deter genuine petitioners, particularly those without resources. That concern is legitimate, but it overlooks the obvious: the courts are perfectly capable of distinguishing between a petition driven by public spirit and one propelled by political spite. The history of PIL jurisprudence is replete with examples of the judiciary carefully sifting the wheat from the chaff. The robust dismissal of frivolous cases need not chill the filing of meritorious ones. On the contrary, it will preserve the PIL as the extraordinary remedy it was meant to be.

We must remember that the higher judiciary’s role in entertaining PILs is not merely reactive; it is part of its constitutional duty to safeguard the rights of the people. But this duty is balanced by another: to ensure that its own processes are not hijacked. Every hour spent on a baseless PIL is an hour taken away from a case that could determine the liberty of an undertrial prisoner, the property rights of landless poor or the environmental health of a community. In a nation where judicial backlog runs into the millions, time is not an infinite resource.

The framers of our Constitution did not envisage the PIL; it is a judicial innovation, a proud product of Indian ingenuity in law. But that very fact makes it fragile. Unlike statutory remedies, which are codified and circumscribed, the PIL is bound only by the contours the judiciary chooses to draw. If the courts do not police the boundaries vigilantly, they will find the very institution they nurtured undermined by misuse. Equally, advocates are duty-bound to avoid PILs that are frivolous or politically motivated, as the court is not a forum for partisan battles.

In praising the firmness of the Supreme Court and the Madras High Court in these recent cases, we are not cheering the defeat of the petitioners per se; we are applauding the protection of the institution. For the PIL to remain credible, the courts must be unflinching in their scrutiny of motive, rigorous in their assessment of public interest and when warranted, unapologetic in levying costs that reflect the gravity of the abuse.

Political grievances have their rightful forum - the legislature, the public square and, ultimately, the ballot box. When political actors use courts to fight electoral battles, they burden the judiciary and erode the boundary between the political and the judicial spheres. That erosion, if unchecked, will do no favours to our democracy. The PIL is among the Indian judiciary’s most valuable contributions to global legal thought, giving the powerless a voice, the invisible a presence and the marginalised a measure of justice. But it must be shielded from misuse. Recent rulings show that the Supreme Court and High Courts are prepared to do so, even by imposing exemplary costs.

When the courts draw a red line against the misuse of their own processes, they are not closing the gates of justice; they are conserving the sanctity of the forum. And in the long run, that is the truest service they can render to the public interest.

Dhileepan Pakutharivu is an advocate practicing before the Madras High Court.

The views expressed here are solely personal and should not be attributed in any manner to any professional institutions that the author is affiliated.