The Supreme Court’s recent approach to access to its proceedings has brought an old principle of open justice into a distinctly digital setting. When a proceeding is taking place in an open court, and members of the public are permitted to watch it virtually, what happens when the visual feed continues but the audio is muted? The question is not simply whether every courtroom exchange must be broadcast. It is more specific: what purpose is served by muting proceedings for those who are watching or hearing them through virtual access?
The question assumes importance because virtual access has become an important extension of the physical courtroom. In Swapnil Tripathi v. Supreme Court of India, (2018) 10 SCC 639, the Supreme Court recognised live-streaming as a means of furthering the principle of open justice and enabling members of the public, lawyers and students to observe proceedings without the constraints of time and place. The Court observed that such access would also enable litigants to have a true account of how decisions were made.
The Supreme Court has, however, also recognised that open justice does not mean unrestricted dissemination of every aspect of every proceeding. In July 2026, the Court barred the unauthorised recording, extraction, dissemination and circulation of its live-streamed proceedings on social media and other digital platforms, citing concerns over the selective clipping, editing and decontextualised circulation of courtroom exchanges. The Court subsequently clarified that recognised media organisations could continue reporting proceedings, although audio and video clips could not be used in such reports.
There is a distinction between these two situations. Restricting the subsequent circulation of a courtroom recording addresses what happens after the proceeding has been broadcast. Muting a proceeding, however, concerns what a member of the public can actually hear while the proceeding is taking place. The question therefore becomes whether the concerns surrounding misuse of courtroom material necessarily require the public feed itself to become inaudible in particular portions of a hearing.
There can plainly be circumstances where restrictions serve an identifiable purpose. Proceedings involving children, sexual offences, witness protection, personal privacy or confidential information may require safeguards. The principle of open justice itself has never meant that every proceeding must be exposed without qualification. The Supreme Court’s framework for live-streaming also contemplates circumstances in which proceedings may be withheld or streaming suspended in the interests of the administration of justice.
But that is precisely why the question of purpose and proportionality matters. If a proceeding is otherwise open to the public and is being made available through virtual access, what specific concern is addressed by muting the audio for those watching remotely? Is the objective to prevent reporting of the exchange, to prevent its recording, to protect a particular person or piece of information, or simply to regulate the manner in which an administrative part of the Court’s work is disseminated? Each of these concerns may call for a different response.
For legal reporting, the question also has a practical dimension. Court reporting does not consist only of reproducing final orders. Hearings involve submissions, questions from the Bench, clarifications and responses that can provide context to the dispute. At the same time, responsible legal journalism requires a clear distinction between a question and a finding, between an advocate’s submission and the Court’s conclusion, and between an observation made during arguments and the eventual judicial determination.
Bharat Chugh, Advocate, frames the issue as one of meaningful public access to justice. While acknowledging that certain proceedings may require privacy and protection of vulnerable persons, he argues that such restrictions must remain exceptions and that openness should remain the default. He says:
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“Open courts mean little if the public cannot really hear or see what is happening in them. Muting proceedings or restricting audio-video access, as a matter of routine, goes against the basic idea that justice must not only be done but be seen to be done.
Of course, some cases need privacy. In cases involving Children, sexual offences, witness protection etc, there can be good reasons for restrictions. But those must remain exceptions.
The default should be openness. If technology allows courts to be more accessible, transparent and accountable, we should use it. We should not use technology to create a new kind of closed courtroom: one where the hearing is technically public, but practically inaccessible.
We must remember that sunshine is the best disinfectant, and the courts exist for the people of this country and not the other way round.”
Advocate Rohit Gandhi similarly emphasises the importance of meaningful access to judicial proceedings, stating:
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“India’s constitutional tradition has consistently favoured open justice, with limited exceptions such as sexual assault trials and family or matrimonial disputes where privacy is necessary. Citizens have a right to see and hear what transpires in courts, and the same principle must apply to virtual proceedings. Audio or video feeds should not be selectively muted or restricted, particularly in matters concerning public administration or issues of wider public interest. Courts must remain accessible, audible and visible to the people they serve. Open justice must remain the rule, with any departure firmly grounded in law.”
The issue, therefore, is not whether courts should have the power to regulate their proceedings. They plainly must. Nor is it whether every courtroom exchange should become freely available for clipping and circulation on social media. The Supreme Court’s recent orders demonstrate why that concern exists.
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The narrower question is what happens to the principle of open justice when the public is permitted to access a proceeding virtually but is unable to hear the substantive exchange taking place inside the courtroom.
The answer may ultimately depend on the nature of the proceeding and the reason for the restriction. A restriction directed at protecting a child or witness is different from one directed at preventing the circulation of courtroom clips. A restriction imposed for a defined legal or administrative purpose is different from one that operates without a clear explanation. The distinction matters because the principle of open justice is not simply about the physical doors of a courtroom remaining open; it is also about the public having a meaningful ability to understand the administration of justice.
The digital courtroom has therefore created a question that the traditional courtroom did not have to confront in quite the same way. When the public is outside the courtroom but connected to it through technology, what does ‘open’ actually mean? Is it enough that the camera remains on, or does meaningful access require that the public be able to hear the proceedings as well?