In a democratic system, the judiciary is not merely an institution. It is also the foundation of the state’s moral legitimacy. A court has neither an army nor police nor a direct public mandate. Its real strength lies in people’s trust, constitutional decorum and institutional restraint. That is why the language, style and public conduct of both judges and the government are considered extremely important.

A judge publicly expressing anger towards the government is generally not considered in line with judicial tradition. This does not mean that the judiciary cannot criticise the government. The primary duty of the court is to bind the executive within the limits of the Constitution. However, the judiciary expresses its disagreement through judgments, orders, interpretations and constitutional reasoning, and not through personal anger, political sarcasm or emotional reactions. As soon as a judge’s language begins to appear political, questions are raised about their impartiality. Among others, judicial dignity means keeping oneself in a position where the institution does not appear partisan.

No democracy runs on a written Constitution alone. A great deal depends on the unwritten norms that institutions develop over time. For example, the government will comply with court decisions, judges will maintain distance from political platforms, the army will remain under the elected government, and Parliament will not make unnecessary comments on judicial matters. These are not always written word-for-word in the Constitution, but democracy rests on these invisible boundaries.

In a democracy, much depends not on ‘what is possible’ but on ‘what is proper’. For instance, a government may hold a majority yet not use every ounce of its power. A court may have the power of contempt, yet it does not punish every criticism. This is the domain of tradition where power is limited by wisdom and discretion.

In contemporary politics, another trend is visible—populist legitimacy. Elected governments sometimes argue that ‘the people have chosen us’, so the court should not interfere. On the other hand, courts begin to see themselves as the ultimate ‘moral guardians’. The balance breaks in both these extremes. Therefore, the dignity of the judiciary does not increase merely because the government fears it, nor is the government’s strength proven by its ability to challenge the court. The greatest strength of the judiciary is its restraint, and the greatest strength of the government is its accountability.

A dopamine government relies more on public excitement than on institutional processes. Its goal is rarely legal stability but rather psychological impact. Courts fear such power because dopamine politics runs contrary to the slow, deliberative and procedural nature of law. The court’s nature is deliberative as it listens, weighs and gives reasons. Whereas a dopamine government is reaction-driven and wants immediate results.

What exactly is a court? A collaborator of the government or its watchdog? The final interpreter of the Constitution or a disguised

tool of governmental ambition? In a democratic system, the fundamental characteristic of the court is that of a counter-majoritarian institution; an institution that protects individual rights and constitutional boundaries even in the face of majoritarian frenzy. If the government treats the popularity of the street, Parliament and social media as legitimacy, the court treats law, procedure and rights as legitimacy. Their languages are different. The government wants immediate results while the court weighs long-term constitutional balance.

Here, it is important to understand the difference between cooperation and subservience. In a democracy, the court and the army, though under the government, are not under its personal will. They are under the Constitution. If they become mere mechanical implementers of the government’s orders, democracy can gradually turn into elected authoritarianism. Judicial transparency, impartiality, intellectual restraint, distance from power, logical reasoning in judgments and protection of citizens’ rights—all these together form the moral strength of the court. When the public begins to believe that the court is the last refuge, it becomes difficult for the government to subjugate it completely.

History shows that direct attacks on the judiciary are not always successful, so governments often create indirect pressure. Interference in appointments, tarnishing judges’ images through media campaigns, delays in implementing court orders, labelling the court as ‘anti-people’, budgetary dependence and political polarisation—these are all tools to create an obedient judiciary.

In today’s era, there is also a new crisis—the ‘pressure of popularity’. Social media-driven public opinion often demands that courts deliver verdicts according to the crowd’s wishes. If the court protects procedure and rights, it is called ‘slow’, ‘outdated’ or ‘anti-people’. The most dangerous moment for democracy is when the mob separates justice from process. Because then, not the law, but immediate excitement begins to dominate the court.

The health of democracy is not determined by how powerful the government is, but by how many independent institutions can stand before it. Obedient courts may give convenience to governments in the short term, but in the long term, they break the moral spine of the state. Because the day the court becomes merely an echo of power, the final moral contract between the citizen and the state begins to break.

In a democracy, the court is the institution that can say, “Even if you have a majority, you cannot do this”. If the court loses the ability to speak this sentence, the executive gradually becomes all-consuming.” French political philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville had warned that the tyranny of the majority can often be more dangerous than monarchy because oppression is carried out in the name of the people’s will. Therefore, when power says, “the people are with me”, the court must ask, “And the Constitution too?”

But it is also true that the courage of the court does not come only from within the judges. Society, the Bar, media, universities and civic consciousness together give moral strength to the judiciary. If the entire public sphere turns into a culture of clapping, the court is left alone. Inside every elected authority lies a desire to become unbridled; the court is the bridle of that desire.

In a democracy, the relationship between the court and the government should be neither of enmity nor of subservience. It is a relationship of constitutional tension, where neither destroys the other but limits the other. The government runs the administration. The court ensures that the administration stays within constitutional limits. The executive wants speed, the judiciary wants restraint. Democracy is the name of the balance between these two.

The term ‘obedient judiciary’ comes up in debate because in a democracy, the court is the institution that can tell power, “You may be popular, but you are not omnipotent”. When governments speak the language of ‘cooperation’ with the court, there is often an underlying expectation of ‘compliance’. Gradually, this expectation can turn into compliance, which means a court that does not ask difficult questions, does not put brakes on popular decisions and continues to give legal cover to the state’s ambitions.

An obedient judiciary does not only mean a corrupt or sold-out court. Often it also means the judiciary that slowly slips into self-censorship and the one that begins to anticipate the wishes of power before delivering judgments, one that reads the political climate before reading the Constitution. Democracy remains safe where the government can be powerful, but the court remains independent.