The president we deserve

India’s president can, and must, play a more meaningful role in its governance. The times demand it, the Constitution does not prohibit it

After writing a fine book (India after Gandhi: The History of the World’s Largest Democracy) — Ramachandra Guha has penned an engaging anecdotal piece: ‘Kaun Banayega Rashtrapati’ (IE, June 4). But I disagree with his pessimistic conclusion: “give us at least a president who can dress well and have an elegantly worded speech for every occasion”. That is not my concept of India’s head of state.

Of course, the president of India is only a constitutional head, but then so is England’s sovereign, about whom Walter Bagehot (eminent political journalist of his time) had written: “The sovereign has, under a constitutional monarchy, three rights — the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn… Having the gift of effectual expression, which kings often have, he cannot help moving his minister; he might not always turn his course, but he would always trouble his mind”.

The Queen in England generally assents to what her cabinet advises — but she is reportedly not averse to expressing her own views on matters of state, views that may trouble the mind of her prime minister.

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I am one who believes that India’s president of today (and of tomorrow) can, and must, play a more meaningful role in the governance of this great country. The times urgently demand it, and the Constitution does not (within limits) prohibit it.

The president of India, as First Citizen, has the constitutional right, and correspondingly the duty, to interpose in public affairs of great moment, giving of his wisdom — privately, never publicly; quietly, never with fanfare. An elected president notionally represents the collective will of the people — he (or she) can use it (and must use it) to temper the occasional excesses of ministers or elected representatives. In October 1997, President Narayanan acting under the constitutional authority given to him under the proviso to Article 74, returned the unanimous recommendation of his council of ministers that president’s rule be imposed in the state of Uttar Pradesh; he requested the cabinet to reconsider its recommendation. It was reconsidered and the government (at that time headed by I.K. Gujral) decided not to press its prior recommendation in deference to the views of the head of state. Again, on those very rare occasions when Parliament (or the government) chooses to do something which the president believes to be unconstitutional — or even morally wrong or improper, it is his function, right and duty to intervene and to make known his views: an illustrative instance in point would be an excessive prolongation (by a proposed constitutional amendment) of the life of an existing Parliament which would keep in office a government whose normal term has run out, and which is anxious to avoid elections! But then how must a president as constitutional head of state do this?

Many years ago a former chief justice of Pakistan provided the answer. He was asked by his country’s president (during that country’s initial experiment with democracy) whether he could constitutionally refuse to give his assent to a Bill passed by the National Assembly (Pakistan’s first constitution after independence was like ours — fashioned on the Westminster model). Chief Justice Munir’s answer went something like this: “If you think it is a matter of the gravest importance, and you cannot in all conscience accept the measure presented to you, you can, and you must (if you are true to your oath) refuse assent — but having refused assent you must then resign; the system must go on; people will know why you resigned, and will sort things out with their governments”.

Pearly words of wisdom: they show how important, and how potentially effective, is the great office of the president in a parliamentary democracy like ours.

The writer is an eminent jurist