Azam Khan’s endless legal battle: A trial that never seems to end

By March 2021, more than 80 cases had been filed against Azam Khan by his political adversaries. The list has since expanded to include over 85 of his associates.

Democracy rests on the principle that every citizen is equal before the law, whether a ruler occupying a seat of power or a leader raising their voice among the people. But when the legal system begins to close off every possible avenue of relief for a particular public figure, it raises a troubling question: is this truly the rule of law, or an attempt to isolate a dissenting voice and undermine his standing?

Mohammad Azam Khan, whose voice resonated in Parliament and the Uttar Pradesh Legislative Assembly for decades, has been behind prison bars. On October 29, when the Allahabad High Court granted him bail by suspending his sentence in a case involving the possession of two PAN cards, many from Rampur to Lucknow hoped the veteran leader would finally get some respite. However, on the evening of October 31, just as he was preparing to walk out of prison, the Enforcement Directorate (ED) took him into custody once again.

This is not an isolated incident but part of a recurring pattern, familiar to many, particularly those who feel marginalised. It raises the question of whether the authorities will ever allow him to remain free. When power shifted in Uttar Pradesh in 2017, the political and administrative landscape changed dramatically. By March 2021, more than 80 cases had been filed against Azam Khan by his political adversaries. The list has since expanded to include over 85 of his associates.

The list is striking, with cases ranging from land grabbing and hate speech to allegations involving the theft of books, goats and even buffaloes. The authorities might argue that “those who were once victims of past regimes are now emerging as swindlers”.

One could argue that matters such as land disputes should be resolved through dialogue, with the grievances of all parties heard. But the question remains: is the entire police and administrative machinery focused on targeting one family? When Azam Khan, his wife Tanzeen Fatima and their son Abdullah Azam are repeatedly brought before the courts, it raises concerns that the objective may go beyond investigation to breaking the family psychologically. Such an approach can reinforce the perception among ordinary Muslims that the law is applied more harshly and swiftly when cases involve their leaders.

One may disagree with Azam Khan’s politics, and his harsh language and style of expression have drawn criticism in the past. But his vision of establishing Mohammad Ali Jauhar University as an educational institution for children from marginalised communities and disadvantaged castes cannot be overlooked.

What has become of that institution today? Its boundary walls have faced bulldozer action, buildings constructed with government assistance have been sealed, and the ED has now seized properties worth hundreds of crores. If there were instances of land grabbing, they could have been addressed through legal proceedings. But the action against the university raises a larger question: is the real issue the lack of educational opportunities for a population that has lagged behind for decades?

A measure of justice or a political tool?

One of the most troubling aspects of this episode is that the administration sought to overturn the people’s mandate. Consider the 2022 hate speech case: Azam Khan was sentenced; his Assembly membership was revoked within 24 hours, the seat was declared vacant, and a by-election was held, which the ruling party won. In May 2023, however, the District Appellate Court acquitted him in the same case. It subsequently emerged that the election officer had filed the complaint under pressure from the then District Magistrate. The court cleared Azam Khan, but what about the loss of his Assembly seat?

Who will compensate for the altered mandate? Will the officials who punished an innocent person and deprived him of his representation be held accountable? This shows how punishment can first destroy a person’s political standing, leaving little recourse even if the courts later overturn the decision. By then, the damage is done.

Even in May 2022, when Azam Khan had secured bail in almost all cases, he was suddenly named as an accused in an old case. The Supreme Court expressed displeasure over the move and, invoking its special powers under Article 142, ordered his release.

The same pattern has now been repeated. As soon as the Allahabad High Court granted him relief, the ED moved to arrest him. The question is why an agency that had been investigating the case since 2019 and had questioned Azam Khan for hours inside the jail felt the need to arrest him just as he was about to walk free. Was he about to flee the country? Or is the government sending a message that even if the courts grant bail, there are other ways to keep the prison doors shut?

A 78-year-old man weakened by illness and repeatedly transferred from one prison to another is bound to raise concerns about his treatment. The basic principle of law is that every person is innocent until proven guilty. Yet, in this case, the trial itself has become a form of punishment. A government’s strength in a democracy is not measured by how ruthlessly it can imprison its opponents, but by how equally it applies the law. When cases against leaders of the ruling side are closed despite serious allegations, while new prison barracks seem to be made ready for opposition leaders, it is difficult to see this as justice rather than political vendetta.

What is happening to Azam Khan goes beyond a political battle. It raises questions about the treatment of vulnerable and minority citizens who challenge the government. The Supreme Court must now decide whether the rule of law will prevail or whether political decisions will override judicial relief.