Parliament is the highest law-making body in India. But such a limited definition of the institution that is central to a deliberative democracy would certainly be an act of vishwasghat, a betrayal of its lofty purpose. Ha! The cynical reader will say, derisively. What lofty purpose, when the benches of Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha are filled with chamchas and chelas and representatives more interested in drama and childish retorts than addressing corruption. Treasury benches are filled with jumlajeevis, the Opposition with disruptive anarchists.
The cynic, as always, can take some pleasure in the hypocrisy of leaders, and point to their dohra charitra. But parliamentary privilege, which grants almost unassailable protection to the free speech of members, is not just an excuse to create drama in the House. It is a way to ensure that the government does not abuse its power, that even the most popular leader faces questions – unlike a dictator. Any government, after all, can turn a deaf ear to the concerns of the electorate, and an unresponsive government becomes an incompetent one. Parliament is one forum that helps ensure that citizens don’t end up with a behri sarkar.
But what of the girgits and Khalistanis? Why should these insulting and sometimes polemical terms not be declared “unparliamentary”? Like the vast number of people they represent, leaders too can lie or tell the truth, be cowardly or brave. But for every Shakuni who twists parliamentary privilege, there is a Yudhishtir who follows the precepts of his dharma. Like poetic license, parliamentary privilege may lead to some bad rhymes, but it also allows the possibility of wit in the face of arrogance, accountability in the face of power. There is nothing more “unparliamentary” than censoring parliamentarians.