Secondly, George Orwell would blush at the second proviso of Section 3, which makes the immigration officer’s decision “final and binding.” One man’s suspicion thus becomes another man’s deportation order. No appeals. No hearings. No oversight. Just an omnipotent desk officer playing judge, jury and executioner. In the US, an immigration judge, and in Canada, an appeal board, exist. India now has a constable with a clipboard with no review board, no ombudsman, no appellate mechanism. Justice is not delayed here — it is denied by design.

Thirdly, this Act creates ouster clauses designed to minimise judicial oversight. Wearing down a foreigner with paperwork, prison and purposeless procedure, with justice a mirage, this is less law and more a dystopian dance of executive fiat.

Fourthly, Section 3(2) prevents even voluntary exit from India if a visa has expired. A person, without any criminal case or complaint, cannot self-deport. This new system would rather trap a bird in a cage than let it fly home. The Act doesn’t say what are these “other grounds” for denial of departure? By legislative sleight of hand, it allows the government to add reasons ad nauseam.

Fifthly, Section 3(3) arms immigration officers with the authority to monitor not just entry, but every move a foreigner makes — from transit to stay to movement, from biometrics to whispered thoughts. What is “necessary and appropriate information”? The officer decides. Big Brother and consequential bureaucratic nightmare is the fate of the visitor.

Sixthly, would a tourist engaged in a heated café debate on Indian politics be deemed a threat? Could criticism of the government become grounds for harassment? The answer is yes — because this Act does not criminalise foreigners, it criminalises the idea of foreignness.

Seventhly, Section 7 allows directions to restrict, prohibit or regulate the entry, stay and exit of foreigners without requiring even a fig leaf of justification. A foreigner can be told where to live, who to talk to, when to report, what to disclose and how to behave. This is an Act born from fear, not foresight. It sees foreigners not as guests, scholars, or investors but as intruders.

Eighthly, Sections 8(3), 9, and 10 take surveillance into our homes, classrooms and hospitals. Landlords, doctors and universities of foreigners are turned into unpaid informants. Every cough, every address change, every college or hospital admission must be reported, on pain of punishment. The State now does not just monitor you, it also recruits your neighbours to do so.

Ninthly, the draftsman seems to have forgotten that we have a sacred book — the Constitution — with Articles like 14 and 21. They extend equality, due process, and liberty to all, citizens or not. From Royappa to Maneka Gandhi, the courts have consistently said that the right to life, liberty, privacy and dignity cannot be trampled upon by a junior officer’s unchecked pen.

Additionally, Article 20 guarantees freedom from retrospective punishment, double jeopardy and self-incrimination. Article 22 provides safeguards against unlawful detention. Article 25 gives every person the right to profess, practice and propagate their religion. Unlike several other developed countries, our Constitution applies all these rights, along with 14 and 21, to all persons, citizens or not!

Tenthly, Section 14 empowers the government to shut down any premises “frequented by foreigners” — without evidence, without charge and with no specified thresholds for invocation. Guilt by association is now policy.

Eleventhly, Section15 lets the government decide arbitrarily which country a person “truly belongs to”. You may carry two passports, as is a growing phenomenon with more and more countries permitting dual citizenship, but Big Brother decides which country he wants to anchor you to.

Twelfthly, Section 17 loads an avalanche of compliance requirements onto airlines and transporters. Miss a detail in a foreigner’s documentation, and you are hauled up for prosecution.

Thirteenthly, Section 26 is an especially dangerous gem. It elevates the head constable to the level of a super commissioner. Far lesser laws require far higher officers to administer their powers. Here, the lowest rung is handed the highest responsibility — and with it, coercive power without proportional competence.

Lastly, however, I must acknowledge sections 21, 23, 24, and 25, which allow compounding of offences. These are oases in a desert of draconian intent. They provide some mitigation and must be retained. But four clauses cannot redeem a 26-headed hydra.

This Act is not merely unconstitutional. It is un-Indian. It replaces due process with discretionary despotism, the Constitution with control, and compassion with contempt. Today it targets “suspicious foreigners.” Tomorrow, it may turn inward. The shadow it casts will not stop at the border.

To say this is a national security measure is to insult the very idea of security. True security lies in upholding liberty, not annihilating it. Let this not be our descent into darkness where “justice is a game of chess; Guilty till proven, jailed on a guess.”

Abhishek Singhvi is a fourth term MP, jurist, former chair, Parliamentary Standing Committees on Commerce, Law and Home, and former additional solicitor general of India. He is also member, Congress Working Commitee, senior national spokesperson, Congress, and chair of the party’s department on law, human rights & RTI. The views expressed are personal