A Mislabelling of a Supreme Court Handbook, Why the Too Harvard-Oriented Critique Misses the Mark
In February, the Chief Justice of India Remarked That the Handbook on Combating Gender Stereotypes Was ‘Technical’ and ‘Too Harvard-Oriented.’ A Close Reading Suggests Otherwise.
In February this year, during a hearing on a sexual assault case, the Chief Justice of India (CJI), Justice Surya Kant, remarked that the Supreme Court Handbook – Handbook on Combating Gender Stereotypes – released in 2023 by then CJI D.Y. Chandrachud to combat gender stereotypes, was ‘technical’ and ‘too Harvard-oriented’. The CJI requested the National Judicial Academy to constitute a panel of domain experts, academicians and lawyers to review the handbook and submit a report. It was noted during the hearing that the forensic terms used in the handbook to describe different aspects of sexual assault cases may not be readily understood by survivors, their families, or laypersons. The Court also emphasised the need for greater practical training of judges.
The remarks have sparked a debate about the handbook’s utility, its audience, and its language. While the emphasis on judicial training is welcome, a close reading of the handbook suggests that it is far from ‘Harvard-oriented’. On the contrary, it is firmly grounded in Indian precedent and courtroom realities. To dismiss it as too technical or too foreign is to misunderstand its purpose and its audience.
What the Handbook Actually Does
By its own terms, the handbook sets out three modest but important objectives. First, to identify language in judicial reasoning that perpetuates gender stereotypes and to suggest alternatives. Second, to highlight common reasoning patterns based on such stereotypes and explain why they are incorrect. Third, to compile binding decisions of the Supreme Court of India that have already rejected these stereotypes.
The handbook is not a foreign import. It is a document rooted in Indian law, drawing exclusively from Indian judgments, and addressed to Indian judges and lawyers. After explaining the impact of stereotypes on judicial reasoning, the handbook provides, in a tabulated format, stereotype-promoting language alongside recommended alternatives, which are further supported by case law. The goal is to ensure that judicial language aligns with constitutional commitments to dignity and equality.
The Problem of Judicial Language
Consider, for instance, the Court’s decision in 2010 in D. Velusamy v. D. Patchaiammal. In discussing whether a live-in relationship would qualify as a “relationship in the nature of marriage” under the Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act, 2005, the Court used the term “keep” to describe a woman “the maintainer of her body and mind”. The language later drew similar criticism in court, from then Additional Solicitor General Indira Jaising, for its patriarchal conclusions. The handbook flags precisely such examples to ensure that future judgments avoid sexist language.
This is not a matter of political correctness. It is a matter of constitutional fidelity. The Constitution guarantees equality and dignity. Judicial language that reinforces stereotypes, that treats women as objects rather than subjects, that uses archaic terms like “ravished” to describe rape—such language contradicts constitutional values. The handbook is a tool to align judicial language with constitutional commitments.
Similarly, Indian judgments have at times used the word “ravished” to describe rape. The term carries archaic, moralistic undertones, focusing more on romantic connotations than on consent and bodily autonomy. The use of problematic language in judgments in India has been documented for decades by feminist legal scholars. Across jurisdictions, initiatives such as the feminist judgments project have demonstrated how landmark rulings can be rewritten without patriarchal underpinnings.
The handbook, in its final section, lists key judgments that reject the stereotypes identified earlier. These are settled principles of law which are brought together in a structured and accessible manner. For instance, it is noted that the absence of injuries in a sexual violence case must be evaluated contextually. This has also been cited recently by the Court in an order concerning sexual assault where it was noted that there is no ‘correct’ or ‘appropriate’ way for a survivor to behave.
Who Is the Handbook For?
More importantly, to call the handbook ‘too technical’ risks misunderstanding its audience. It is not addressed to survivors. It is addressed to judges and lawyers who are professionals trained to interpret statutes, weigh evidence and craft reasoned judgments.
The handbook uses legal language because it is a legal document intended for legal professionals. It cites cases because judges need to know the legal basis for the principles it articulates. It uses precise terminology because precision matters in judicial reasoning. To suggest that it should be rewritten in lay language is to misunderstand its function.
Survivors and their families are not expected to read the handbook. They are represented by lawyers, and they are heard by judges. The handbook is a tool for those professionals to ensure that their work is conducted in a manner consistent with constitutional values. The concern that survivors might not understand the handbook is misplaced, because the handbook was never meant for them.
The Need for Evolution
None of this is to suggest that the handbook is beyond improvement. The handbook must evolve, particularly in response to feedback from the Bench, the bar and civil society. The CJI’s request for a review by the National Judicial Academy is a welcome step. Any document that aims to shape judicial practice should be subject to ongoing scrutiny and refinement.
But reform should be informed by an accurate understanding of what the document actually does. If the review panel concludes that the handbook is too technical, it should propose ways to make it more accessible—to its intended audience of legal professionals, not to laypersons. If it concludes that some of the recommended language is unclear, it should propose clearer alternatives. If it identifies gaps in the case law cited, it should suggest additions.
What should not happen is a wholesale dismissal of the handbook as foreign or elitist. That would be a misreading of the document and a disservice to the important work it does.
The Significance of the Handbook
The publication of the handbook marked a significant institutional acknowledgement: that language can entrench or dismantle inequality. By identifying stereotypes and grounding judicial reasoning in constitutional values, the Court took a step toward greater internal accountability. Calling it ‘technical’ and ‘Harvard-oriented’ risks diminishing the significance of that step.
The handbook is not perfect. No such document could be. But it is a serious effort by the Supreme Court to hold itself to a higher standard. It is a recognition that the language judges use matters, that stereotypes can creep into judicial reasoning, and that the Court has a responsibility to correct itself.
The handbook is also a resource for lawyers. It provides a ready reference for arguing against stereotypical reasoning. It equips the bar with the tools to hold the bench accountable. It is a document that strengthens the entire judicial system.
The Way Forward
The CJI’s remarks about the handbook should be taken as an opportunity for improvement, not as a signal to discard the document. The review panel should engage seriously with the handbook’s content, identify areas for improvement, and propose revisions that make it more useful to its intended audience.
The emphasis on practical training of judges is also welcome. A handbook is only as good as its use. If judges are not trained to apply its principles, the document will have little impact. The National Judicial Academy should develop training programmes that incorporate the handbook’s insights and help judges translate them into practice.
But the training should not be based on a caricature of the handbook. It should be based on an accurate understanding of what the handbook actually does. The handbook is not a foreign import; it is a homegrown document. It is not too technical for its intended audience; it is appropriately technical for legal professionals. It is not a dismissal of Indian judicial practice; it is an effort to improve it.
Conclusion: A Document Worth Defending
The Handbook on Combating Gender Stereotypes is a significant achievement. It is the product of careful scholarship and a genuine commitment to constitutional values. It is rooted in Indian case law and addressed to Indian legal professionals. It is not perfect, but it is a foundation on which to build.
To dismiss it as ‘too Harvard-oriented’ is to miss the point. The handbook is not a foreign import; it is a homegrown effort to make Indian courts more just. It deserves to be understood, not caricatured. It deserves to be improved, not discarded. And it deserves the support of the very institution that created it.
The CJI’s call for a review is an opportunity. Let us hope that the review panel approaches the handbook with the seriousness it deserves, and that the result is a stronger, more effective document that continues the important work of combating gender stereotypes in Indian courts.
Q&A: Unpacking the Supreme Court Handbook Controversy
Q1: What is the Supreme Court Handbook on Combating Gender Stereotypes, and what does it aim to do?
A: Released in 2023 by then CJI D.Y. Chandrachud, the handbook aims to: identify language in judicial reasoning that perpetuates gender stereotypes and suggest alternatives; highlight common reasoning patterns based on stereotypes and explain why they are incorrect; and compile binding Supreme Court decisions that have already rejected these stereotypes. It provides a tabulated format showing stereotype-promoting language alongside recommended alternatives, supported by case law. The goal is to align judicial language with constitutional commitments to dignity and equality.
Q2: What criticism did Chief Justice Surya Kant make about the handbook in February?
A: During a sexual assault case hearing, CJI Surya Kant remarked that the handbook was ‘technical’ and ‘too Harvard-oriented’. He noted that forensic terms used in the handbook may not be readily understood by survivors, their families, or laypersons. He requested the National Judicial Academy to constitute a panel of experts, academicians, and lawyers to review the handbook and submit a report, and emphasised the need for greater practical training of judges.
Q3: Why does the author argue that the ‘Harvard-oriented’ criticism is misplaced?
A: The author argues that the handbook is firmly grounded in Indian precedent and courtroom realities. It draws exclusively from Indian judgments, not foreign sources. It is addressed to judges and lawyers—legal professionals trained to interpret statutes, weigh evidence, and craft reasoned judgments. The handbook uses legal language and cites cases because precision matters in judicial reasoning. It was never intended for survivors or laypersons, so concerns about technical language for those audiences misunderstand its purpose.
Q4: What examples does the author provide to illustrate the handbook’s value?
A: The author cites the 2010 case D. Velusamy v. D. Patchaiammal, where the Court used the term “keep” to describe a woman, language later criticised for its patriarchal conclusions. The handbook flags such examples to prevent future use of sexist language. The author also notes that Indian judgments have used the archaic term “ravished” to describe rape, carrying moralistic undertones. The handbook lists key judgments rejecting stereotypes, such as noting that absence of injuries in sexual violence cases must be evaluated contextually—a principle recently cited by the Court.
Q5: What is the author’s view on the way forward?
A: The author welcomes the CJI’s request for review and the emphasis on practical training. However, the review should be based on an accurate understanding of the handbook’s purpose. Improvements should focus on making the handbook more useful to its intended audience—legal professionals—not rewriting it for laypersons. The handbook marks a significant institutional acknowledgement that language can entrench or dismantle inequality. It deserves to be understood, not caricatured; improved, not discarded; and supported by the institution that created it. The author cautions against dismissing it as foreign or elitist, which would diminish the significance of the Court’s step toward internal accountability.
