Degrees, Disclosure and Democracy: Does the Delhi High Court Ruling Demolish the RTI?

PM Modi's Degrees and Mark-sheets: Should these be disclosed publicly?

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Author credentials:

Karan Bir Singh Sidhu is a retired IAS officer (Punjab cadre) and former Special Chief Secretary, Government of Punjab. He holds an MA in Economics from the University of Manchester and writes at the intersection of the RTI, the public’s right to know (under the RTI Act and via election affidavits), and the fundamental right to privacy of persons holding high public office.

Does the Delhi High Court’s ruling effectively kill the RTI?

Does the Delhi High Court’s 25 August 2025 judgment in the “Modi degree” and “Smriti Irani school record” matters sound the death knell for India’s Right to Information (RTI)? In a word: no. The ruling narrows one corridor of access—personal academic records—while leaving the rest of the house of transparency intact. But it also exposes a gap: how we should verify what candidates swear about themselves in election affidavits without turning RTI into a tool for voyeurism. In this op-ed, we argue for a principled middle path that safeguards privacy and strengthens democratic oversight and accountability.

The context: transparency meets twenty-first century privacy

The Right to Information Act, 2005 was conceived as a structural reform—an everyday instrument for citizens to scrutinise how public authorities function. Over time, however, the Act’s use has stretched to demands for documents that are not strictly about decision-making or public expenditure, but about intimate details of private lives that happen to intersect with public figures. The internet age makes this tension sharper: personally identifiable information (PII) can be copied, scraped and misused at scale.

We therefore sit at a constitutional crossroads. On one side stands a proud legacy of openness; on the other, the fundamental right to privacy affirmed by the Supreme Court of India in Puttaswamy case. The Delhi High Court’s ruling steps into this space and, in our view, tries to mark a clearer lane divider.

What the Delhi High Court actually said

The High Court, in its 175-page comprehensive judgment, has held that information pertaining to an individual’s educational qualifications—degrees, marks, answer-sheets and related records—is personal information within the meaning of Section 8(1)(j) of the RTI Act. As a default, such data is exempt from disclosure unless a demonstrable, compelling public interest justifies an override. The Court set aside directions of the Central Information Commission (CIC) that had opened the door to inspection of a university’s student records for the year in which the Prime Minister is said to have graduated, and a Board’s records allegedly concerning a former Union Minister, Smriti Irani.

Two clarifications are especially important. First, the Court emphasised that public curiosity is not the same as public interest. That a person holds high public office does not, by itself, convert every item of personal data into a public document. Second, it explained that the twenty-year relaxation in Section 8(3) does not automatically swallow the privacy protection in Section 8(1)(j); where privacy is engaged, the proportionality and public-interest test still governs.

We should also note the Court’s broader caution: ignoring the privacy mandate in the seemingly “innocuous” case risks opening floodgates for indiscriminate demands—driven not by accountability, but by sensationalism. In other words, the Court is curbing the fishing expedition, not the fight against opacity.

Does this “kill” the RTI? No—but it narrows one channel

Some worry that if nearly every file connects to a person, then everything becomes non-disclosable. That is not what the judgment says. The RTI Act was never a warrant to rummage through personal dossiers; it is a transparency law about how public authorities function. If we seek travel allowance bills, leave and LTC records, or the notings behind a contract award, we are asking for records of public activity and public expenditure. Those are still squarely within RTI’s ambit. Yes, they may contain incidental personal data, but the solution there is proportionate redaction, not wholesale denial. The Court’s reasoning is entirely compatible with that practice.

Where the ruling bites is in individual academic records. Unless we show why disclosure would concretely advance accountability—say, by demonstrating a credible suspicion of forgery or public misrepresentation—such records should not be released to the world at large. That tightening is not a death knell; it is a course correction. It asks us to articulate the public-interest case rather than rely on the subject’s public profile as a trump card.

The Section 11 question: who issues notice, and when?

There is also confusion about “third-party notice”. The RTI Act’s Section 11 requires the Public Information Officer (PIO) to consult a third party if the PIO proposes to disclose information concerning that third party. The statute does not require the public figure to “issue a notice”, nor does it make third-party consultation a precondition to refusing a request. In practice, when the PIO intends to deny disclosure under Section 8(1)(j), Section 11 is not triggered. Of course, as a matter of good administration, PIOs in high-salience cases often consult or inform the affected party anyway; but the legal duty arises only where disclosure is contemplated.

This matters because it channels the process properly. The PIO must first decide whether the record is exempt and whether public interest justifies an override. Only if the PIO leans towards disclosure does the Section 11 consultation kick in.

The affidavit paradox: voters’ right to know versus personal data

Here lies the lived friction. Since landmark rulings in the early 2000s, candidates contesting elections must file sworn affidavits disclosing specified details, including educational qualifications. Those affidavits are public documents because the Supreme Court has anchored disclosure in the voter’s right to know under Article 19(1)(a). Voters, parties and the press rely on them to make informed choices.

Does the High Court’s privacy holding under RTI undercut the affidavit regime? Not directly. The judgment deals with access to underlying university/board records through RTI, not the affidavit’s public availability. The affidavit continues to be a public document, and we—citizens—retain the right to see what a candidate declares. The harder question is verification. If a candidate lists a degree, can we compel the issuing institution to produce certified records to the public via RTI? After this ruling, only upon a specific, credible public-interest showing—for example, where there is tangible evidence of falsity or where the claimed qualification is legally tied to eligibility for a particular public post.

A principled way forward: verification without voyeurism

We believe there is a constructive pathway that respects both privacy and the voter’s right to know:

1. Election Commission protocol at the nomination stage. Require candidates who claim educational qualifications to authorise the issuing university/board to send a yes/no verification directly to the Election Commission of India (ECI). That verification, together with the affidavit, should be placed on record and published alongside the candidate’s nomination papers. Crucially, this would not publish marks, roll numbers or ancillary identifiers; it would simply confirm or deny the claim.

2. Triggered disclosure on credible cause. If a credible allegation of falsity arises—conflicting sworn statements, documentary inconsistencies or a complaint with prima facie support—the ECI or a court should be empowered to call for the underlying certified record for inspection and, if necessary, limited public release (with appropriate redactions). This targeted safeguard keeps the bar high enough to deter harassment while ensuring that genuine doubts about integrity can be resolved swiftly.

3. Uniform redaction standards. When disclosure occurs, personal identifiers not necessary to the public interest (full addresses, roll numbers, signatures where not essential to proof) should be redacted by default. Such standards already exist in recruitment litigation and can be adapted to the electoral context.

These steps would strengthen trust in affidavits without turning RTI into a blunt instrument against personal privacy.

What about office-holders at the very top?

We also need clarity on high office. Educational qualifications are not legal eligibility criteria for becoming an MP, MLA, Prime Minister, Chief Minister or minister. That is a deliberate constitutional choice. The democratic check here is electoral scrutiny, not technocratic gatekeeping. Nevertheless, when a person holds the highest constitutional positions, the public interest in accurate self-representation is undoubtedly strong. The balance struck by the Court does not foreclose disclosure where the interest is concrete and demonstrable; it simply bars a presumption of public access to the raw academic file because the subject is famous.

In roles where a statutory or constitutional qualification is required—say, for a regulated professional appointment—the calculus can flip. There, underlying proof may be disclosable (with redactions) because it bears directly on legal fitness to hold office. The key is to tie disclosure to function, not fame.

Will this be the end of litigation? Almost certainly not

We should expect further challenges. Future cases will likely present sharper facts: an explicit allegation of forgery; a conflict between two sworn disclosures; or a post where education is part of the eligibility matrix. Those will require courts to weigh privacy not only against RTI but also against the integrity of the electoral process. Our sense is that the equilibrium, when properly framed, will favour verification through institutions—the ECI and courts—over open-ended public inspection through RTI.

In parallel, Parliament and the ECI can do their part. The 2023 data-protection era reminds us that privacy defaults are stronger now; transparency mechanisms must be designed, not improvised. Proactive yes/no verification, clear redaction standards and credible-cause triggers would defuse politicised RTI warfare and deliver what citizens actually need: assurance that what candidates swear is true.

The bottom line: a course correction, not last rites

So, does this judgment sound a death knell for the RTI? We do not think so. It narrows a channel—personal academic records—unless public interest is real and outweighs privacy. It leaves untouched the day-to-day vitality of RTI over budgets, files, notings, contracts and performance. It invites us to put reasons behind disclosure rather than rely on reputation as a passkey.

The harder, and more important, work lies ahead. We should build verification that is institutional, targeted and privacy-respecting—so that our elections remain informed without our private lives becoming public exhibits. That is a balance the law can live with, and a democracy can trust.