What’s in a Symbol?

IN A RECENT MOVE, the Supreme Court of India unveiled a redesigned Lady Justice statue, removing her traditional blindfold and replacing her sword with a copy of the Constitution. This change, championed by Chief Justice of India (CJI) DY Chandrachud, was intended to signal a shift towards a more uniquely Indian interpretation of justice—one that sees all equally, rather than blindfolded, and prioritises constitutional law. While this change underlines the meaning and symbolism of justice, it also raises a less-asked but equally pertinent question: Should India revisit another symbolic aspect of its judiciary—the neckbands worn by our judges and advocates?

These neckbands, consisting of two white rectangles attached to a string or fabric tied around the neck, symbolise authority and professionalism. Their origin is steeped in religious significance rooted in the Abrahamic tradition. They represent the two tablets of law carried by Moses, inscribed with the Ten Commandments. While this symbolism has long been adopted in many common law systems, it raises important questions for a secular, pluralistic country like India: Should a symbol so closely tied to a particular religious tradition continue to represent the Indian judiciary, which serves a vastly diverse population, the majority of whom follow non-Abrahamic faiths?

The white neckbands may seem innocuous at first glance. Yet their origin—deeply embedded in the story of Moses and the Ten Commandments—poses a dilemma for a judiciary committed to secularism. Moses, a central figure in Judaism, is depicted in biblical tradition as the bearer of divine law, delivering God’s commandments to the people. The two tablets symbolise divine justice, but India’s legal system is based on rational, human-made laws rather than divine commandments, or religion-driven judiciary common to nations like Qatar, Iran or Saudi Arabia. The Indian Constitution explicitly upholds principles of equality, secularism, and non-discrimination, and the judiciary is tasked with ensuring that no single religion is privileged over others.

The continued usage of the neckbands raises uncomfortable questions that contradict the very secular ideals that the judiciary seeks to uphold. As philosopher John Rawls noted, “[j]ustice as fairness” must be rooted in impartiality and equality, not in the mandates of a particular faith. The neckbands, however, signal a specific religious origin and are thus at odds with India’s pluralistic and secular identity. This adherence to symbols rooted in an alien Eurocentric and imported worldview is particularly problematic for India—a robust 75-year-old, non-Western constitutional democracy. In an era when India is asserting its identity on the global stage, such symbols may serve to reinforce a legacy of colonialism and exclusion that the nation has long sought to overcome.

An alien import with little relevance to India’s history, the neckbands represent a religious and cultural heritage that holds no relevance to most of India’s population. Judaism, while respected and freely practised in India for centuries, has historically been followed by less than 1 per cent of the Indian populace. By adopting a symbol rooted in an alien tradition, the Indian judiciary overlooks India’s own rich legal history. Long before the Abrahamic religions emerged, India developed sophisticated legal systems through texts like the Dharmasastra, Arthashastra, and Buddhist Vinaya. These legal traditions emphasised pluralism, ethics, and social harmony, grounded in the Indian experience rather than in divine commandments from an external faith. Using a symbol with little connection to India’s historical and intellectual heritage diminishes recognition of the nation’s own contributions to the global understanding of justice. It subtly suggests that Indian law and ethics need to be grounded in foreign, religious traditions rather than in the rich tapestry of its own cultural and philosophical legacy.

The presence of a religiously derived symbol in a secular judiciary raises concerns about the separation of religion and state. The Constitution mandates that the state, including its institutions, must not favour or discriminate against any religion. The white neckbands symbolically appear to privilege the Abrahamic worldview over others. Justice should be an institution that stands above religious and cultural divides, offering equal treatment to people of all faiths (or none). By continuing to wear a symbol linked to a specific religious tradition, the judiciary risks alienating large segments of the population who do not identify with that tradition. As Ronald Dworkin observed, justice in a democracy must be “sensitive to the full range of diverse religious and moral beliefs.” This means ensuring that no single faith’s symbols dominate public institutions.

In the Indian context, where polytheism is a deeply ingrained part of the bulk of the citizenry’s spiritual and cultural life, this is a particularly troubling symbol to attach to the institution of justice. For instance, the first of these Commandments states “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” thus prescribing a monotheistic absolutism that runs counter to India’s rich, millennia-old, widespread, living polytheistic heritage marked by multiplicity of deities. Similarly, the second commandment—“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image”—proscribes idols, thus explicitly rejecting the bulk of Indian art and cultural practices rooted in myriad physical representations and celebrations of the divine. Thus, the Commandments do not reflect the principles of pluralism and tolerance essential to Indian democracy. Just as the judiciary must treat all religions equally, so should its symbols reflect the nation’s diverse beliefs. By perpetuating the neckband symbol, it is inadvertently suggested that justice is rooted in a single religious tradition rather than being a commitment to universal fairness.

Beyond religious origins, the content of the Ten Commandments poses challenges when viewed through modern jurisprudence. Christopher Hitchens noted the limitations of the Commandments, arguing that they reflect a tribal, authoritarian worldview unsuitable for contemporary legal systems. For example, the commandment against adultery—“Thou shalt not commit adultery”—has been rendered obsolete even in modern Indian courts via its landmark ruling in 2018 that decriminalised adultery, recognised the agency of consenting adults and affirmed that neither the judiciary nor the clergy has the right to police intimate relationships. This shift towards personal freedom and autonomy directly contradicts the moral prescriptivism of the Commandments. Be it in symbols or actions, it is essential that the Indian judiciary reflect contemporary values that prioritise individual rights, equality, and secularism over ancient religious dictates incompatible with modern legal frameworks.

Symbols are powerful and shape public perception of the institutions they represent. Just as the recent redesign of the Lady Justice statue represents a shift towards a more relevant and Indianised concept of justice, the judiciary’s sartorial choices should reflect our Constitution’s pluralistic values, resonate our legal principles, and under no circumstances be antithetical or disrespectful to the nation’s unique intellectual traditions and socio-cultural life. As Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr, one of the most influential figures in the modern Western judicial history asserted, “The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience.” This underscores the need for a legal system grounded in the lived experiences of its people, rather than ancient doctrines from a single-faith tradition. It is time our judiciary packed away the neckband in the same place as the horsehair wig once a common sight in Indian courts.

diverse beliefsIndian judiciaryjudge’s neckbandjudiciary’s symbolsreligious traditionstatue of Lady Justice