Jallikattu is a simple sport. Though there are some variations, in essence, a bull is let loose into an open space and an individual has to latch on to the bull’s hump for a defined period of time. Whoever is brave and supple enough to achieve this feat wins a prize, which in antiquity was a kattu (bundle) of salli (small coins).

Traditionally held as part of Pongal celebrations in Tamil Nadu, for the last decade, Jallikattu has been caught in the crosshairs of the law preventing cruelty to animals. The argument against it is narrowly couched in constitutional terms — the Constitution should be read in a manner that secures justice for all animals. Since Jallikattu involves cruelty to bulls, it is the duty of the State to prohibit it. But there is a wider argument — a liberal constitutional framework has no place for certain traditional practices that may offend modern sensibilities. Our quest to be a modern nation-state necessarily requires such traditions to be abjured.

On May 18, 2023, the Supreme Court rejected these contentions. In one of the most understated, yet well-reasoned judgments in recent times, the court, speaking through Justice Aniruddha Bose, held that the sport of Jallikattu is regulated by the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (Tamil Nadu Amendment) Act, 2017 and related rules. Taken together, these enactments, while permitting Jallikattu, lay down strict conditions to ensure the safety and the dignity of bulls. No beating or poking is permitted, the bull collection yard and spectators’ gallery are strictly regulated, and rest periods mandated to ensure that the bulls are not treated cruelly. As a result, the court held that the state had fulfilled its obligations to ensure that animals are not treated cruelly.

The judgment is remarkable in its simplicity. For a student of constitutional law, its value lies both in what it holds and also what it refuses to be drawn into. Its fundamental legal basis is that the state of Tamil Nadu has the legislative competence to amend the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, a Central law, to create a customised legal regime for Jallikattu, held only in the state.

It is open to the state, with presidential assent, to amend a Central law because the subject of prevention of cruelty to animals is in the Concurrent List of the Constitution. While this is a simple proposition of law, in the current political climate of creeping centralisation, a judgment that upholds the rights of states to carve out customised legal regimes is valuable.

Equally valuable is the court’s holding that the amendment is neither arbitrary nor unreasonable. It had been claimed by those seeking to stop Jallikattu that the amendment facilitated a sport that caused bulls unnecessary pain and suffering for entertainment purposes. The court rightly said that the amendment had sought to minimise any pain to bulls by strictly regulating the conduct of the races. This was similar to horse races where regulation ensured that any pain to horses was limited. If some pain still ensued, this was a question of degree that the court had no means of assessing. Incapable of making such an assessment, the court could not hold the law to be unreasonable. If it did so, it would mean that no pain whatsoever could ever be caused to animals by humans in a manner in accordance with the Constitution.

As commendable as this principle might sound, adopting it as a matter of law would have led to some difficult consequences. As the court rightly recognised, humans are entirely capable of living off a vegetarian diet. If an absolute principle of rights of all animals to be treated without any pain or suffering were to be accepted, then the Constitution would have to stamp out all forms of meat and fish-eating as they involve taking the life of a sentient being. That is the logical conclusion an argument based on the rights of animals leads us towards. We may not be ready for such an extreme argument as a society just yet.

The judges deftly avoided getting into this knotty question by refusing to make this question one of the fundamental rights of animals. This was a question of wrongs done to animals, and not their rights. The law had addressed these wrongs and regulated Jallikattu so that it would not be cruel to bulls, as it was earlier. This was a harmonious balance — Jallikattu would continue, but bulls would not be treated cruelly.

This balance is also key to the court’s overall message to not fall into the orientalist trap of viewing tradition and modernity as irreconcilable opposites. Unfortunately, this is what the petition unwittingly urged the court to do. The notion of a modern Indian nation-state that is respectful to animals cannot be one where traditional practices involving animals have to be legislated out of existence. This view is based on the false premise that tradition is fossilised in time with no possibility of change. On the contrary, as Alasdair MacIntyre has powerfully shown, tradition is a constantly changing set of arguments which evolves in response to critics who reject such arguments and to new interpretations which seek to shape it. Ancient tradition and modern practices can shape each other and be shaped by each other. Why ban Jallikattu if it can be organised safely?

The judgment should also give us pause to interrogate what we think of as modernity in the first place, especially when it comes to sport. Undoubtedly, the Indian Premier League, in contrast to Jallikattu, would count as a modern sporting event. It is an event where every part of the human body is an asset to carry advertisements, where players are bought and sold like cattle at an auction, and where skimpily-dressed women can often be seen dancing with pom-poms whenever something exciting happens. Neither is it seen as cruel to players for club-owners to ‘buy’ and ‘sell’ them, nor is it considered disrespectful to cheerleaders for commodifying them. After all, people enjoy watching the sport. If this is modernity, maybe Jallikattu, too, should now be judged by the same yardstick.

Arghya Sengupta is Research Director, Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy. Views are personal