
by Ankita Talukdar, Justice Leila Seth Fellow – January 2025
As part of my work as a children’s rights advocate, I often find myself wrestling with questions of justice and societal accountability. This is especially true regarding cases of sexual abuse involving minors, and the issue of publicly disclosing a victim’s identity. Each such case demonstrates the difficulty of finding a balance between ensuring transparency, and protecting the dignity and future well being of children who have already suffered tremendous trauma.
This internal conflict came to the forefront when I read the recent news reports about a case of sexual abuse at a hospital in Kolkata. The victim was a 31-year old doctor, who faced the assault at her workplace. For weeks, details related to the incident were shared widely by the media: from the victim’s name to her confidential medical records to even her personal photos. Eventually, around a month after the story emerged, the Supreme Court intervened and issued strict directions to remove the victim’s identifying details from media outlets and social media platforms. Despite this, various news and social media pages continued to carry this sensitive information online for weeks. This information will likely remain live on the internet in perpetuity. For anyone Googling her name, she will always be a victim of rape first, defined by the crime committed against her. This serves as a stark reminder of how information sharing in the digital age often disregards legal boundaries and ethical obligations.
Nevertheless, the dilemma of whether or not to disclose the identity of victims, especially when the victim is a child, emerges as if anew with each fresh incident that garners media attention. While on one hand there is the argument that every victim and their families have the right to privacy from becoming the headline, on the other hand there are arguments favouring disclosure of the victim’s identity as being important to obtaining justice for the victim.
What The Law Says and Why
The laws in India state that no identifying information must be disclosed with respect to a person against whom any sexual offence has been committed. Section 72 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023 (BNS) (erstwhile Section 228A of the Indian Penal Code, 1860) enshrines this protection. Limited exceptions exist, allowing disclosure only when it is authorised in writing by the officer in charge, the victim, or the next of kin. This principle is more strictly enforced in cases involving child victims and/or survivors of sexual abuse, recognising both their vulnerability and that of their families. Section 23 of Protection of Children against Sexual Offences, 2012 (POCSO) thus allows no exceptions.
For me, the recent incident in Kolkata called up parallels with cases of child victims of sexual abuse. For instance, the ‘Kathua rape and murder case’, where an eight-year-old girl was allegedly kidnapped, assaulted and murdered in Jammu. Her name and photographs were circulated across news platforms and social media for months. It was only when the Delhi High Court passed multiple directions against around 12 media houses that much of the information was taken down. Despite this, a quick online search even today leads to content that reveals the child’s name. The Internet, I have learned, never forgets.
This disregard for the anonymity of victims, particularly children, is a grave violation of both Indian law and the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC). Yet, time and again, these legal safeguards are ignored. The intent of the POCSO provisions is to ensure physical and psychological recovery of the child. One must ask, with such key information available digitally, can the child or their families truly heal and recover?
The Consent Dilemma
A frequent ground for the disclosure of a victim identity is that consent has been provided by the survivor or the next of kin. I remember when the mother of the victim in the 2012 ‘Nirbhaya’ gang-rape and murder case revealed her daughter’s identity. Her reasoning was that she was unashamed of her daughter’s fight for justice and wanted the world to know her name. Legally, the BNS provides for consent as one of the exceptions for disclosing the identity of the survivor. In contrast, the POCSO Act provides an absolute prohibition.
In my view, this difference between the BNS and POCSO Act is because consent regarding children is a far more complex issue. Are the survivors or their families truly giving informed consent? Are parents aware of the potential long-term consequences of such disclosures? Can a parent’s consent be the determining factor when the child is alive? Do they know that images can be manipulated and be used in illicit or explicit content, or that information they share can be used against them? And once the trial is over, does their consent extend indefinitely?
An argument in favour of disclosure is that the victim/survivors’ identity galvanises public sentiment and creates awareness against such crimes. However, we must ask whether such mobilisation should hinge on the identity of the survivor, or the crime itself? Too often, focusing on the victim’s name shifts the narrative toward personal details, sometimes inviting victim-blaming, rather than addressing the systemic failures that allow such heinous acts to occur. As time passes, this information is also often used to serve personal agendas, rather than securing justice. For instance, in 2014, some political leaders used the identity of a minor girl who was gang-raped on Twitter (now X) to fuel an online war of words between political rivals.
The Problem with Sensationalism
Sharing personal information about victims can also lead to sensationalisation of such cases, where facts are often distorted. For instance, a news report about the sexual abuse of an eight-year-old girl in Chennai alleged that her parents had left her alone at home to go shopping. This narrative blamed the couple for their so-called “carelessness”, rather than focusing on the crime itself. This approach not only violates survivors’ rights but also fails the public, which deserves accurate reporting.
Finding a Balance Weighing out the debate, I believe the way forward lies in spreading awareness about the crime while protecting the child’s anonymity. For instance, media platforms must obscure images, blur personal details, and focus on the crime and systemic failures rather than the survivor’s identity. Ethical reporting standards, like those outlined by UNICEF, can guide responsible storytelling. Digital platforms must enforce accountability by swiftly removing sensitive content and penalising violations. By prioritising the child’s recovery and privacy over sensationalism, we can ensure that justice and awareness do not come at the cost of the survivor’s dignity. In the end, the rehabilitation of the victim and their family must be an essential part of the journey toward achieving true justice.