The wheel of law has turned full circle. The Ninth Schedule was an anomalous device designed to protect land reforms against a supposedly biased and formalistic judiciary. In its landmark judgment in I.R. Coelho, the Supreme Court has once again categorically asserted that the Constitution itself needs to be protected against potentially errant and arbitrary legislative use of the Ninth Schedule. How times change! In Sajjan Singh, Hidayatullah had said: rights should not be the playthings of a special legislative majority. After Golaknath, our great legal scholar, Upendra Baxi responded: can rights be the playthings of a special judicial majority? The answer to this debate always turned on the prior question: what do you fear more? An overzealous judiciary? Or an arbitrary legislature? It is a measure of the times that the answers to these questions are very different now than what they were in 1951.
The Ninth Schedule was a blunt instrument. The one thing S.P. Mukherjee was right about in 1951 was this. He argued that the issue in the introduction of the Ninth Schedule was not zamindari abolition; it was always possible to enact a special amendment dealing with just property matters. The issue was that the Constitution was being treated like a ‘scrap of paper’. This blunt instrument became a jurist’s nightmare. L.M. Singhvi had warned in 1963 that the Schedule “brought into existence a category of protected legislation, the propriety or soundness of which we can scarcely vouchsafe”. One signal lesson emerges from the 60-year battle over the Ninth Schedule. Even when the objectives are defensible, it is important not to use those objectives as a pretext to enact laws or constitutional amendments that give the legislature or government more power than is necessary for achieving that objective. The Ninth Schedule was at best a classic case of careless legislation, at worst a perfidious arrogation of power under the guise of social justice.
What has the latest judgment achieved? The importance of this judgment will be diminished if we see it only as an attempt by the Supreme Court to assert its supremacy. There is, as has been pointed out, nothing new in this assertion. Ever since Keshavananda Bharati, the Supreme Court has asserted that power, and Waman Rao had reiterated that amendments to the Ninth Schedule were “open to challenge” on the ground that they damage the basic and essential features of the Constitution. The issue after Waman Rao was over an important technical obscurity: whether an Act or Regulation which has been found by the Supreme Court to violate Articles 14, 19 or 21 could be included in the Ninth Schedule or whether it is only a constitutional amendment amending the Ninth Schedule which destroys the basic structure that can be struck down. The court has emphatically reiterated that no law is immune from judicial scrutiny.
But the judgment is far-reaching in another respect. The ‘basic structure’ doctrine had given the courts the judicial lever to scrutinise constitutional amendments. But, as Raju Ramchandran forcefully point out, the courts often read the ‘basic structure’ doctrine, like an indiscriminate list, covering all manner of things from rights, to values, to institutional forms. The court never fully articulated the boundaries of the doctrine, or even explained why elements of the basic structure were indeed basic. One way of reading the present judgment is a tentative attempt to articulate answers to these questions. The court seems to be moving to something like the following position. The golden triangle of articles 14, 19 and 21 (dealing with equality, freedom and life) and the principles underlying them define the core of the Constitution, which even any amendment put in the 9th Schedule cannot violate.
The court is not simply asserting its authority over constitutional interpretation. It is doing something more profound: setting the parameters of public reason. Shorn of legalese, the core question is this. Should a liberal democracy like ours permit legislation that abrogates any of these articles? Any legislation that violates norms of equality, unjustifiably abridges freedoms and makes the right to life ridiculous cannot be a good faith exercise in public reason. These rights are not trumps, but they are both constitutive of and instrumental to creating a tolerant and just society.
It is too facile an interpretation to see recent judgments as an attempt to assert judicial supremacy. From the Buta Singh case to this one, the simple question the court is asking is this: justification of legislation or action has to be an exercise in public reason. This has a specific meaning, namely that the reasons given can not only not be arbitrary, but they should not violate the citizen’s standing as free and equal persons, essentially what the golden triangle protects. What the court is asserting is not its authority, but reiterating the standing of citizens as free and equal persons. This standing cannot be protected if the legislature has power to use the numerology of the Constitution to shield its actions from constitutional scrutiny. Although the court itself does not do it, arguably the golden triangle can also now set parameters on the ‘basic structure’ doctrine. It will be curious if, in coming years, another wheel turned full circle, and we travel in a different way, the journey back to Golak Nath’s emphasis on rights as the core value to be protected.
This will not put to rest controversies over judicial activism. Clearly in directions to the executive the judiciary is sometimes overstepping. And what exactly the fallout will be on specific cases from reservation to land acquisition remains to be seen. How the judiciary will interpret Articles 14, 19 and 21 remains an open question. Some critics of this judgment argue that the court is making the Ninth Schedule irrelevant. Now every legislation can be scrutinised on grounds of its compatibility with Articles 14, 19 and 21. But the answer to these critics is two-fold. There is something known as constitutional learning. Everyone knows the Ninth Schedule was an anomaly. It made the Indian Constitution, in Gajendragadkar’s funny formulation, the only constitution in the world containing a provision for providing protection against itself. If the force of the Ninth Schedule is undermined, even if it is not formally abrogated, all the better. But more substantively, can anyone seriously argue that the tussle over the formal allocation of powers between the legislature and judiciary can be allowed to trump the core question: what constitutional values should place limits on the exercise of power, be it the power of the legislature or the court?
The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi