Mahmudabad and the Streisand effect: When crackdown amplifies dissent

Poorva Paksha

As an academic, I increasingly find myself gripped by a pervasive fear of writing anything that might provoke the ire of a punitive State. There was a time when critique, questioning arbitrary power, and exhorting students and the wider public to engage in critical and reflective thought – even meaningful dissent – were not only possible but central to the mandate of higher education (they are, after all, integral to the scientific method). Today, however, weighing the risks, it feels as though there’s practically no alternative – à la Mark Antony in Julius Caesar – but to praise the police for their vigilance.

Barbra Streisand’s lyrics from her 1973 song The Way We Were resonate here: ‘Can it be that it was all so simple then?/ Or has time rewritten every line?/ If we had the chance to do it all again/ Tell me, would we? Could we?’

Ali Khan Mahmudabad’s May 8 Facebook post, which critiqued the media’s portrayal of Operation Sindoor and referenced minority issues, was deemed dangerous enough to warrant swift police action. The Haryana Police arrested him under charges that included endangering national security and promoting enmity between groups. On the surface, these charges seem designed to protect public order and national security. But a closer look reveals a troubling paradox: if the post was truly dangerous, the arrest amplified its reach exponentially through the Streisand effect, virally spreading the very danger it sought to quarantine. If, on the other hand, the post posed no real threat, the arrest was an unjustified overreach. Either way, the State’s actions are difficult to defend.

The Streisand effect, named after Barbra Streisand’s 2003 attempt to suppress a photograph of her home – only to amplify its visibility – perfectly encapsulates this case. Mahmudabad’s post, initially seen by perhaps a few hundred followers, caused no reported unrest before the arrest. Complaints from the chairperson of the Haryana State Commission for Women and a BJP youth wing leader prompted the FIRs. It was the arrest itself that thrust the post into the spotlight. Coverage by national and international media, alongside student protests, an open letter with over 1,200 signatories, and posts on X from influencers ensured that the purportedly dangerous content would now be read by millions. If the post was truly dangerous, the State’s actions magnified that danger exponentially. Could it be that suppression of the content was never the true intent?

Critics of the police – and to be clear, do not count me among them – argue that the danger lay not in the words themselves but in the act of daring to utter them. That the content of the post, which critiqued performative nationalism and invoked moral introspection, was not the threat. What was deemed dangerous was the act of dissent – the willingness to publicly challenge dominant narratives. The arrest, then, was not about safeguarding the public from harmful content but about sending a message: the act of speaking out, of questioning power, will not be tolerated.

This brings to mind another of Streisand’s songs, A Piece of Sky: ‘More than I hoped for, more than I planned/ Something I couldn’t even understand/ I had to go where no one had to go/ A place where no one said no’.

The charges against Mahmudabad – endangering national security, promoting enmity, and insulting women’s modesty – have been the subject of significant debate. Critics argue that these charges viciously conflate a critique of performative nationalism with an attack on sovereignty. The second charge, linked to his mention of minority persecution, was ostensibly filed to maintain communal harmony. And yet, no evidence of communal unrest emerged until after his arrest, which is itself what sparked protests and public outcry. The third charge, interpreting his reference to the officers’ briefing as ‘optics’, has been criticised for mischaracterising a critique of policy as a personal affront. All the charges appear subject to the critique that the State’s actions not only failed to suppress dissent but amplified the issues raised, drawing attention to them on a global scale.

History demonstrates at least three certainties: one, alas, that the public speech of a university professor has never brought down a sovereign nation; two, that attempts to suppress dissent often trigger the Streisand effect and backfire (think, for example, of Galileo, Mandela, or Socrates); and three, that scientific discovery and progress inherently entail dissent, critique, and challenging dominant narratives.

Let’s praise the State’s commitment to protecting the national interest. Let’s even praise the arrest of our academic colleague. But can these two things go together, when the consequences of the arrest – protests and polarisation – pose a far greater risk to stability than the professor’s original post ever did?

‘On a clear day/ Rise and look around you/ And you’ll see who you are’.