The correspondent filing this dispatch is a law student in Mumbai who must remain anonymous.

On Friday, the Supreme Court of India (SCI) declined to hear a petition seeking to apply the country’s workplace sexual harassment law—called the Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition, and Redressal) Act, 2013 or the POSH Act—to political parties.

The bench, comprising Chief Justice of India B.R. Gavai and Justice Vinod Chandran, initially stated that the matter fell within the domain of legislative policy and that the Court was not inclined to interfere. The petitioner’s advocate then withdrew the writ petition with liberty—formally asking the Supreme Court to dismiss the petition but reserving the right to refile later—indicating they would instead challenge a decision by the Kerala High Court (KHC), which held that political parties are not bound by the POSH Act provisions.

The procedural history of the petition in Yogyamaya v. Union of India (Yogyamaya) is notable because the same petitioner approached the SCI in December 2024 seeking the same relief. In that earlier case, the petitioner’s advocate withdrew the writ petition with liberty to instead approach the Election Commission of India (ECI) seeking an appropriate mechanism to ensure POSH compliance by political parties. The petition in Yogyamaya was filed due to the ECI’s unresponsiveness.

This issue is particularly relevant here because the POSH Act was enacted to promote and increase women’s participation in India by removing safety barriers. While the government claims to support advancing women’s roles in politics, such assertions ring hollow when efforts are undermined by a pervasive culture of sexual harassment and violence. A UN Women study found that 58% of women involved in Indian politics identified “members of the same political party” as perpetrators of violence.

On that point, the Supreme Court of India’s reasoning in Yogyamaya—that the remedy sought was a matter of policy—failed to account for the origins and history of the POSH Act. The statute itself is rooted in judicial action: it was enacted by Parliament following the Court’s landmark decision in Vishakha v. State of Rajasthan, in which the Court issued binding directions to combat workplace sexual harassment. In Vishakha, the Court expressly held that it was not bound by legislative inaction and could rely on international conventions to frame enforceable guidelines in the nature of law.

Sixteen sitting Members of Parliament currently face charges for crimes against women, with the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which leads the National Democratic Alliance (NDA), having the highest number of legislators facing such charges. This reflects a sad state of affairs within India’s legislatures, wherein such an entrenched reality makes it unsurprising that there is little political will to bring such a policy into force.

Beyond legislators’ reluctance to face scrutiny, the SCI also failed to address broader structural and systemic barriers. Although the petitioner called attention to the ECI’s inaction, it was the Court that ultimately overlooked the deeper issues of procedural bottlenecks and institutional buck-passing. This omission effectively shields political parties from accountability, underscoring the red tape and bureaucratic quagmires that often plague social justice movements.

The POSH Act’s preamble provides that the statute’s purpose was to give effect to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), which India ratified in 1993. Article 7 of the CEDAW stipulates that all appropriate measures must be taken to “eliminate discrimination against women in the political and public life of the country.” The anticipated challenge to the KHC’s decision in Centre for Constitutional Rights Research and Advocacy v. State of Kerala (CCRRA) presents a unique opportunity for the SCI to rethink the definition of the terms “employer” and “employee” under the POSH Act. A contextual and purposive interpretation is required—one that does not defer to the legislature or bureaucracy.

The SCI must recognize power imbalances within political party structures and must work to create and enforce protective obligations—especially given the widespread gender-based harm occurring in political spaces. It will be interesting to see how the issue unfolds before the SCI if the petitioner persists with their commitment to upholding the POSH Act in reference to political parties. Compelling questions of procedure, separation of powers, systemic misogyny, and accountability are bound to arise. It will be striking to witness the judiciary attempt to navigate these challenges in a nation led by a notoriously heedless and unaccountable political class.