The twilight of Parliament

By Pran Chopra

SOME OF its most senior members have virtually told Parliament that the days of its usefulness may be numbered; that it may become redundant just when it is needed most; that its help may be the least available to those who need it most. These may not be the words they use, but this is the plain meaning of what they do. Some may now claim their words have been misquoted, their actions misunderstood. But so frequent are their implied warnings to Parliament in word and deed that their gravity cannot be underestimated nor their consequences averted if the deeds persist.

The principal function of Parliament is to ponder upon issues, inform and educate public opinion about them, sift facts from prejudice, reconcile differences, and, if that is not possible, ensure that the majority prevails and the minority is ensured the chance to win another day in fair debate. Parliament works at two levels: through public debate between policies and points of view; and in the privacy of committees in which it is agreed by consensus what is to be debated, when, for how long, and under what rules.

The only sanction Parliament has for this function is a tripod of assumptions: first, that Parliament reflects the people's will; second, that it enjoys their trust, confidence, respect; and third, that its opinion is well-considered, clear, and therefore difficult for anyone to ignore.But all these assumptions are being undermined at present.

The way we elect Parliament and the latter elects the Government, a party or coalition can get a majority in Parliament with a minority share of the vote and a Government can be formed which is in minority in the House. That means the Government may be formed by a minority of a minority and without endorsement by a majority of the people. What it faces in Parliament is as often bedlam as it is debate, a babble of noises, not clear opinions, street-level brawls which show that Parliament's rules of work have broken down, both for public debate and for reaching conclusions in committees. Parliament itself will decline into demise in this way, and any presidency that may follow will not remain democratic for long.

The daily scenes explain why instead of continuing to earn the ``trust, confidence, respect'' of the people, Parliament has started to earn their scorn as they count the crores the country loses while their MPs go berserk. Faith in the parliamentary system is getting drowned in ``the well'' of the House where MPs try their muscle and lung power instead of the merits of their arguments. The Government is thus left free of any obligation to carry out any directive of Parliament since none emerges which is ``considered, clear''.

The presiding officers of all Legislatures are placed in a difficult dilemma. Their powers to discipline rowdy members are not inconsiderable; if a member is ``named'' by the chair for persistently disruptive behaviour he can be expelled for the day, for the week, or even for much longer. But the scene then becomes only more unruly. On the other hand if the chair persists in a lenient view he is seen to be weak, the citizen complains louder about wastage of public funds, and the whole system falls into disrepute. The MPs are accused of lying when they promise good behaviour in taking oath of membership; the long Lok Sabha sitting on the 50th anniversary which took a pledge of good conduct is now recalled with sneers; each time a House is adjourned for the day to seek refuge from bedlam the question arises why not shut it down for much longer? And ``why not for good?'' could be the next question.

Until a few years ago, it was possible to believe some respected members who still argue, with more goodness in their hearts than wisdom in the head, that disorder on the floor of Parliament allows members to let off steam which would otherwise explode in the street. But that argument is wearing thin, because a vicious circle now holds sway over the interaction between the street and Parliament. Rowdy behaviour in Parliament, frequently witnessed in full flow over television, is seen by the street urchin as a licence for him to follow suit, and in reverse the street is becoming a model for the House. The circle turns faster and the viciousness increases as the media intervenes, often mindlessly. As the noise-makers hog space in newspapers and time on TV, those MPs who would rather argue their case than use microphones as missiles are discouraged into silence. It is not an exaggeration to say that Parliament and its coverage in the media have now become the worst example of our disorderliness, made all the more persuasive because of the chance it gets in Parliament to parade under the flag of the country's highest political institution.

The result is tragic, because those who need Parliament most as a platform for their cause are the first to lose it. More and more members now come from the more deprived levels of the social and economic order. They should have learnt from experience that Parliament is the one influential forum to which, by virtue of their vote, they have equal access with the privileged and mighty, while their admission to other forums is restricted by the latter. And yet they readily lend their lung power to the better off members, in a classless war on Parliament, though they know they cannot compensate themselves in forums to which others may have a more privileged access.

In the meantime, another hope is also falling by the wayside. Since each new House now has a large number of first-timers, it used to be thought their behaviour would improve as they imbibed proprieties which are proper to Parliament. But the reverse has happened, for two reasons. The proportion of newcomers is rising. This should be seen as a warning given by voters that they are dissatisfied with those elected by them. But the warning remains unheeded by the newcomers themselves. They are now numerous enough to set the stage for using it more effectively, and yet what they too do much of the time is to join others is throwing the furniture around. The second reason is worse: senior members are also preaching to them that there may be virtue in blocking proceedings. About a year ago, one of the most cereberal and senior MPs, Mr. Pranab Mukherji, said in full view of TV and on the floor of the House that no proceedings would be allowed unless their demand was conceded. An equally senior member, Mr. Madhavrao Scindia, said on March 13 that it was legitimate to stall proceedings relating to certain Bihar and Gujarat matters because they had a bearing ``on basic constitutional issues'', never mind that such are the very matters on which Parliament should have the opportunity to give its full and most considered opinion. On the same day, an even more senior member of one party defended obstruction of proceedings on the ground that other parties had done so too. Just a week earlier, the Rajya Sabha had to be adjourned because of a demand for an immediate discussion on Bihar, contrary to the agreed Agenda, and the discussion was delayed till the following week.

In the process, Parliament loses its educational role, as recent examples show. In the slanging match over the Gujarat order about the ban on Government servants' association with the RSS, Parliament forgot to educate the public about the Union's jurisdiction in this matter, about whether the ban - or its withdrawal - was in keeping with facts, the law, the Constitution, and whether it could have been better challenged - or upheld - by that route without crippling Parliament. Or, if the name of the game, `as indicated by the Congress(I)'s most vocal member, Mr. Mani Shankar Aiyar, was finding chinks in the NDA by forcing a vote on Gujarat, could it have been played by the rules in the Business Advisory Committee, or by moving an adjournment motion, or suitable cut motions when the Budget came up, instead of laying siege to Parliament? Or should the battle of Bihar have been fought - and lost! - by interrupting the healthy, and growing, conventions about who should receive the first invitation for forming a Government? But no, our first aim now appears to be to draw Parliament's blood, whatever the issue, and the right word may soon be not the twilight but the dark night of Parliament.

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