“The law is the witness and external deposit of our moral life. Its history is the history of the moral development of the race. The practice of it, in spite of popular jests, tends to make good citizens and good men.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.[1]
India’s turbulent history is marked by moments that redefined justice, power, and the law’s purpose. What if we could turn the clock back and drop today’s Constitution, Penal Code, and progressive labour protections into those moments? Would the outcome be different? This thought experiment—legal time travel—helps us see how far India’s legal conscience has evolved since the colonial period.
In this blog, we revisit four iconic events: the Salt March (1930), the Indigo Revolt (1859–60), the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre (1919), and the Quit India Movement (1942). By applying modern Indian legal frameworks—like the IPC 1860, constitutional rights, UAPA, and labour welfare laws—we explore whether heroes would become convicts, victims would get justice, and whether the colonial state’s excesses would withstand today’s constitutional scrutiny.
THE SALT MARCH: CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE OR CRIMINAL OFFENCE?
The Salt March of 1930, led by Mahatma Gandhi, was a 240-mile walk to the Arabian Sea to break the British monopoly on salt. Under the Salt Act, 1882, the British criminalised Indians making their own salt—a powerful symbol of economic exploitation.[2]
But how would modern India judge this act?
Today, producing salt on government land might attract Section 329(1) BNS (criminal trespass), which criminalises unlawful entry with the intent to commit an offence or intimidate.[3] Punishment under Section 329 (3) IPC could mean up to three months’ jail or a fine.[4] More controversially, Gandhi’s defiance could be viewed under Section 152 BNS, which punishes acts bringing hatred or contempt against the government with up to 7 years.[5]
Yet, the Constitutional shield is stronger than colonial repression. Article 19(1)(a) guarantees freedom of speech and expression; Article 19(1)(b) ensures the right to peaceful assembly.[6] In Kedar Nath Singh v State of Bihar (1962), the Supreme Court ruled that sedition only applies if there’s incitement to violence or public disorder.[7] Gandhi’s Salt March was explicitly non-violent civil disobedience.
Modern precedent from Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) further strengthened free speech, striking down draconian provisions that stifled dissent online.[8] Additionally, Section 19 BNS excuses acts done to avoid greater harm—arguably, defying unjust laws to secure civil rights fits this defence.[9]
Modern Verdict: Gandhi’s Salt March would likely be constitutionally protected political speech. The trespass might be de minimis, and sedition charges would almost certainly collapse in court. The contrast highlights how India’s constitutional values have overruled colonial suppressions.
THE INDIGO REVOLT: LABOUR EXPLOITATION ON TRIAL
In 1859, Bengal’s indigo farmers rose against European planters who forced them to grow indigo under unfair contracts and at pitiful wages. This rebellion, one of India’s first mass peasant uprisings, revealed the brutality of colonial agrarian policies.
Today, such exploitation would trigger an entire arsenal of labour and human rights laws.
- Bonded Labour System (Abolition) Act, 1976: This law prohibits forced labour. Indigo planters who coerced debt-ridden peasants into cultivation would face up to three years’ imprisonment under Section 16.[10]
- Contract Labour (Regulation and Abolition) Act, 1970: This mandates fair wages and humane working conditions; violation invites fines and prosecution.
- The Occupational Safety, Health and Working Conditions Code, 2020, now sets minimum workplace safety standards.[11]
The Supreme Court in People’s Union for Democratic Rights v Union of India (1982) equated underpayment and coercive contracts with forced labour under Article 23 of the Constitution.[12] So, the planters would face civil and criminal liability, restitution orders, and perhaps class action suits under Public Interest Litigation (PIL).
Additionally, if excessive chemical cultivation harmed the environment—a legacy that resonates with modern environmental consciousness—planters could face penalties under the Environment Protection Act, 1986.
Modern Verdict: In today’s India, the Indigo planters’ business model would crumble under constitutional guarantees and strong statutory protections for workers. Farmers would have legal recourse, social security, and remedies that colonial law denied them.
THE JALLIANWALA BAGH MASSACRE: STATE EXCESS AND HUMAN RIGHTS
On 13 April 1919, General Dyer’s troops fired on an unarmed gathering in Amritsar’s Jallianwala Bagh, killing hundreds. The colonial regime never prosecuted Dyer—instead, it justified the slaughter as quelling sedition.
Today, such a massacre would be an open-and-shut violation of the right to life under Article 21 of the Constitution.
- Section 103(1) BNS: Intentional killing is murder, punishable by death or life imprisonment.[13]
- Section 61(2) BNS: If proven that the massacre was planned by officials, criminal conspiracy would attract additional penalties.[14]
- Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, 1967 (UAPA): The massacre’s goal—terrorising a civilian population—fits the modern definition of a terrorist act under Section 15, with life imprisonment possible.[15]
The Supreme Court in Rudal Shah v State of Bihar (1983) recognized monetary compensation for illegal detention—a principle that would extend to victims’ families today.[16] Similarly, DK Basu v State of West Bengal (1997) imposed accountability for custodial deaths, reinforcing the state’s liability for unlawful killings by its agents.[17]
Modern Verdict: General Dyer and his superiors would face trial for murder, conspiracy, and terrorism. Victims’ families would receive reparations. Human rights bodies would monitor accountability, and the event could even attract international scrutiny under India’s treaty obligations.
THE QUIT INDIA MOVEMENT: NATIONAL UPRISING OR UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY?
In 1942, the Quit India Movement called for an end to British rule through mass protests, strikes, and civil disobedience. The colonial government responded with mass arrests under sedition and preventive detention laws.
Today, the right to protest is protected under Article 19(1)(b) but subject to reasonable restrictions for public order.[18]
A large protest could still trigger prohibitory orders under Section 163 CrPC, but Anuradha Bhasin v Union of India (2020) reaffirmed that restrictions must be necessary and proportionate.[19]
Suppose the protests turned violent or damaged public property. Offenders could face charges under:
- Section 189(1) BNS (Unlawful Assembly),
- Section 324(3) BNS (Mischief causing damage)[20], and
Non-violent protest leaders like Gandhi would likely be protected. Yet, violent acts could attract anti-terror charges under the UAPA, though its expansive reach is increasingly contested by courts for misuse against dissent.
Modern Verdict: Peaceful Quit India protestors would largely be protected, but acts of violence could see selective prosecutions. Courts would balance national security with the fundamental right to dissent.
CONCLUSION: WHAT THIS TIME TRAVEL TEACHES US
This legal time travel shows how modern India’s Constitution redefines power dynamics between citizens and the state. Non-violent civil disobedience, once branded sedition, is now protected speech. Forced labour is outlawed. Massacres attract criminal and civil liability. Protestors are entitled to due process.
Yet, this journey also reminds us that remnants of colonial repression linger—sedition, preventive detention, and vague anti-terror provisions still pose challenges. Our courts, however, have increasingly become guardians of civil liberties.
As we navigate contemporary crises, this retrospective is more than academic—it is a reminder that the law must remain vigilant to the lessons of the past, ensuring that history’s injustices never repeat themselves.
Author(s) Name: Fatima Faridi (Amity Law School, Noida)
References:
[1] Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr, The Path of the Law, quote page (“The law is the witness and external deposit of our moral life…”) (Goodreads) https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1590051‑the‑path‑of‑the‑law accessed 19 June 2025.
[2] Nadya Hayasi, ‘A Pinch of Salt and the One of the Largest Nonviolence Movements in India: The Salt March of 1930’ (The Nonviolence Project – UW–Madison, 19 August 2021) https://thenonviolenceproject.wisc.edu/2021/08/19/salt-march/ accessed 19 June 2025.
[3] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 329(1).
[4] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 329(3).
[5] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 152.
[6] Constitution of India 1950, art 19(1)(a)-(b).
[7] Kedar Nath Singh v State of Bihar 1962 AIR 955
[8] Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) 5 SCC 1.
[9] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 19.
[10] Bonded Labour System (Abolition) Act 1976, s 16.
[11] Occupational Safety, Health and Working Conditions Code 2020, s 6.
[12] People’s Union for Democratic Rights v Union of India (1982) 3 SCC 235.
[13] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 103(1).
[14] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 61(2).
[15] Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act 1967, s 15.
[16] Rudal Shah v State of Bihar AIR 1983 SC 1086
[17] DK Basu v State of West Bengal AIR 1997 SC 610.
[18] Constitution of India 1950, art 19(1)(b).
[19] Anuradha Bhasin v Union of India (2020) 3 SCC 637.
[20] Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita 2023, s 324(3).
