Daily Excelsior: J&K: Friday, 15 May 2026.
The Central Information Commission’s recent ruling in a case involving Jammu & Kashmir’s Directorate of School Education Kashmir offers a timely moment for reflection. At its heart, the judgment raises a question that democratic societies have long wrestled with: where does the right to know end, and where does the duty to govern begin? The Right to Information Act was conceived as a powerful corrective. It has, without doubt, served that purpose admirably. From exposing ghost beneficiaries in welfare schemes to unmasking fictitious employees on government payrolls, RTI has been the citizen’s most effective torch in the darkest corridors of power. To diminish its importance would be both dishonest and dangerous.
Yet the CIC’s caution against “indiscriminate and impractical” RTI demands deserves serious consideration. The application in question sought exhaustive data spanning six years – teacher shortages, infrastructure deficits, scholarship records, student-teacher ratios and budget utilisation across an entire division. Collating such information would have required a disproportionate diversion of administrative resources, leaving routine governance functions starved of attention. The Supreme Court’s oft-quoted warning – that the nation cannot afford for three-quarters of public staff to spend three-quarters of their time furnishing information – is not hyperbole. It is a practical reality that watchdog bodies must internalise. However, one must be equally vigilant about the other side of this coin. Departments have long mastered the art of hiding behind procedural complexity. “Information not readily available,” “data not compiled centrally,” and “disproportionate burden” are phrases that have shielded genuine negligence and deliberate opacity as comfortably as they have flagged legitimate operational concerns. Without firm benchmarks distinguishing the two, such defences risk becoming a bureaucratic escape hatch.
Herein lies the real challenge. There exist no codified, granular guidelines that empower the CIC or State Information Commissions to cleanly separate vexatious overreach from legitimate, sweeping public interest enquiries. Each case is adjudicated largely on discretion, leaving considerable room for inconsistency. What is needed is a structured framework – one that preserves RTI’s accountability mandate whilst establishing proportionality tests for voluminous requests. Commissioners ought to explore mechanisms such as phased information release, aggregated departmental disclosures, and proactive publication of commonly sought data, which would reduce the burden on both filer and institution. RTI is neither a weapon nor a burden. Used with precision, it remains democracy’s finest audit tool. The challenge is ensuring it stays sharp without becoming unwieldy. The line is thin but has to be distinguished.
The Central Information Commission’s recent ruling in a case involving Jammu & Kashmir’s Directorate of School Education Kashmir offers a timely moment for reflection. At its heart, the judgment raises a question that democratic societies have long wrestled with: where does the right to know end, and where does the duty to govern begin? The Right to Information Act was conceived as a powerful corrective. It has, without doubt, served that purpose admirably. From exposing ghost beneficiaries in welfare schemes to unmasking fictitious employees on government payrolls, RTI has been the citizen’s most effective torch in the darkest corridors of power. To diminish its importance would be both dishonest and dangerous.
Yet the CIC’s caution against “indiscriminate and impractical” RTI demands deserves serious consideration. The application in question sought exhaustive data spanning six years – teacher shortages, infrastructure deficits, scholarship records, student-teacher ratios and budget utilisation across an entire division. Collating such information would have required a disproportionate diversion of administrative resources, leaving routine governance functions starved of attention. The Supreme Court’s oft-quoted warning – that the nation cannot afford for three-quarters of public staff to spend three-quarters of their time furnishing information – is not hyperbole. It is a practical reality that watchdog bodies must internalise. However, one must be equally vigilant about the other side of this coin. Departments have long mastered the art of hiding behind procedural complexity. “Information not readily available,” “data not compiled centrally,” and “disproportionate burden” are phrases that have shielded genuine negligence and deliberate opacity as comfortably as they have flagged legitimate operational concerns. Without firm benchmarks distinguishing the two, such defences risk becoming a bureaucratic escape hatch.
Herein lies the real challenge. There exist no codified, granular guidelines that empower the CIC or State Information Commissions to cleanly separate vexatious overreach from legitimate, sweeping public interest enquiries. Each case is adjudicated largely on discretion, leaving considerable room for inconsistency. What is needed is a structured framework – one that preserves RTI’s accountability mandate whilst establishing proportionality tests for voluminous requests. Commissioners ought to explore mechanisms such as phased information release, aggregated departmental disclosures, and proactive publication of commonly sought data, which would reduce the burden on both filer and institution. RTI is neither a weapon nor a burden. Used with precision, it remains democracy’s finest audit tool. The challenge is ensuring it stays sharp without becoming unwieldy. The line is thin but has to be distinguished.
