Opinion Parliament is trapped in a cycle of disruption. Democracy is paying the price
During the decade of UPA rule, the BJP disrupted Parliament with impunity, losing 68 per cent of the 15th Lok Sabha’s time to protest. Now, in Opposition, the INDIA bloc has adopted the same playbook.
The custodians of Parliament — its presiding officers, its members, and its political leadership in government and in Opposition — must act before it is too late. (Illustration: C R Sasikumar) Another session of Parliament has begun, and with it, the now-familiar spectacle of disruption. The Opposition’s refusal to allow proceedings to continue without a debate on the Special Intensive Revision of electoral rolls, and the government’s adamant refusal to permit such a discussion, cost the Lok Sabha its first two days before a compromise was reached. But this was not the first stalemate to paralyse the institution meant to be the nation’s highest forum for deliberation; nor will it be the last.
This is not a new affliction. The tactics of disruption have become institutionalised, with each side citing precedent to justify its conduct. During the decade of UPA rule, the BJP disrupted Parliament with impunity, losing 68 per cent of the 15th Lok Sabha’s time to protest. Now, in Opposition, the INDIA bloc has adopted the same playbook, arguing that the government’s refusal to consult or debate justifies obstruction. The Golden Rule taught in missionary schools — “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” — has been replaced in Indian politics by a new maxim: “Do unto them what they did unto you.”
This tit-for-tat logic has become entrenched. Where one sits determines where one stands. Yesterday’s disruptors now pose as guardians of parliamentary propriety; today’s obstructionists will likely rediscover the virtues of decorum if they return to power. The result is a Parliament that lurches from one impasse to another, its deliberative function steadily eroded.
I first engaged with this problem well before entering politics, when Speaker Somnath Chatterjee invited me to a round table of eminent citizens — including Narayana Murthy and Shyam Benegal — to discuss the functioning of Parliament. We all called for stricter enforcement of rules to uphold standards of debate and decorum. Speaker Chatterjee, however, disabused us of our illusions. Disruptions, he explained, were seen by the Opposition as a democratic right. To thwart them by invoking the rulebook would be condemned by all parties — including the ruling Congress — as undemocratic. Suspension or expulsion of MPs was not a tool he could wield without political consensus.
His successor, Meira Kumar, faced even greater challenges. Her gentility and decency were routinely abused by a belligerent BJP, yet she too echoed the Somnath line: Expelling unruly members without all-party agreement would be wrong. And so the disruptions continued, becoming a feature rather than a flaw of parliamentary life.
The tragedy is that both sides are culpable. The BJP government refuses to reach out to the Opposition, preferring to bulldoze legislation through without consultation. It treats Parliament as a noticeboard for announcements and a rubber stamp for decisions already taken. The Prime Minister’s disdain is palpable: Unlike Jawaharlal Nehru, who attended Parliament daily, Narendra Modi rarely graces the House with his presence. The ruling party seems to regard Parliament as a necessary nuisance — useful for forming a government and passing laws, but inconvenient when it comes to answering questions or listening to dissent.
The Opposition, meanwhile, has abandoned its legislative responsibilities. Rather than using Parliament to challenge the government through debate, it prefers disruption. In doing so, it forfeits the very tools Parliament offers: Question Hour to hold ministers accountable, Zero Hour and Rule 377 to raise urgent matters, and the opportunity to register its views on government bills. The government passes its legislation amid the din; it is the Opposition that loses out.
This mutual contempt for parliamentary norms has had a corrosive effect. Parliament, as the nation’s principal forum for debate and deliberation, has been reduced to a farce. The duration of sittings has declined steadily, and disruptions have become more frequent. Parliamentary standards have been in free fall for a generation. Each side sees itself as the embodiment of virtue and the other as irredeemably evil. The ruling party brands the Opposition “anti-national”; the Opposition in turn imagine themselves as doughty outnumbered Pandavas facing the might (and the unfair means) of the Kauravas in power. In this political climate, government and Opposition see each other as enemies, not mere adversaries; civilised debate becomes impossible.
What is needed is a collective reset — a new consensus on acceptable parliamentary conduct. I have long spoken out against disruption — throughout my 16.5-year-long Parliamentary career, in both government and Opposition — so what I am saying is not, as some will be quick to allege, some new-found appeasement of the government. The best solution would be an all-party meeting to agree on a fair and binding code of conduct. Other democracies offer useful models: In the UK, for instance, the Opposition is allotted a day each week to raise issues of its choosing. India could adopt a similar rule, ensuring that the Opposition has space to voice its concerns. In return, disruption should be outlawed by mutual agreement. Parliament could then focus on the nation’s business, rather than partisan theatrics.
The diminishing role of Parliament in our political life is deeply damaging to our democracy. This is not just a procedural concern; it is a constitutional crisis in slow motion. Parliament is meant to be the crucible of democratic debate, the arena where laws are scrutinised, policies contested, and the executive held to account. When it is reduced to a theatre of disruption or a rubber stamp for executive fiat, the very idea of representative democracy is imperilled.
The custodians of Parliament — its presiding officers, its members, and its political leadership in government and in Opposition — must act before it is too late. The institution must be preserved, not merely as an unavoidable hand-me-down of constitutional design, but as a living forum for democratic engagement. The lifeblood of our democracy flows through its debates, its questions, its deliberations. If Parliament goes down the drain, so too does the vitality of our democratic experiment.
India deserves better. Our citizens deserve a Parliament that reflects their aspirations, grapples with their concerns, and legislates with wisdom and care. Our democracy deserves a legislature that is not a battleground of egos but a workshop of ideas. The time to restore Parliament’s dignity is now.
The writer is MP, Thiruvananthapuram, Lok Sabha, and chairman, Parliamentary Standing Committee on External Affairs
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