The Speaker of the Telangana Assembly occupies a constitutional chair, not a party pulpit.
Yet, during a heated exchange on the floor of the House, that distinction appeared dangerously blurred.
When the Speaker categorically warned BRS leader Harish Rao that he would not be allowed to speak if he continued to scold the Chief Minister, it sent a message—not of order, but of selective restraint.
The same firmness was conspicuously absent when Chief Minister Revanth Reddy freely employed sharp and derogatory epithets against former Chief Minister K. Chandrashekar Rao and his party.
No one denies that the Speaker’s role is among the most difficult in a parliamentary democracy. Managing tempers, maintaining decorum, and ensuring proceedings run smoothly is no easy task. But the Speaker’s authority rests entirely on the perception of impartiality. The moment that thin constitutional line between Speaker and spokesperson is crossed, the institution itself is weakened.
In this case, the Speaker’s approach handed the Opposition a moral and procedural opening.
The BRS boycott of the session did not emerge in a vacuum; it was fuelled by the perception—fair or otherwise—that the Chair had taken sides. A Speaker who appears partisan does not silence the Opposition; he amplifies its grievance.
History offers lessons. A seasoned Speaker like Jana Reddy, placed in a similar situation, would likely have attempted reconciliation—reaching out to the Opposition, urging a return to the House, and restoring the democratic balance. Silence, on the other hand, risks being read as arrogance of power. And in politics, people seldom forget such signals. They merely wait for the right moment to respond.
The irony is striking. On one hand, Chief Minister Revanth Reddy publicly laments KCR’s absence from the Assembly. On the other, the conduct of the Chair suggests that even if KCR had attended, meaningful participation may not have been possible. This contradiction lends credibility to KCR’s silence and strengthens the argument that double standards operate both inside and outside the House.
Democracy does not collapse when Assembly doors close; dissent finds other outlets. But what does suffer is the credibility of the ruling party. Worse, such episodes hand ammunition to political rivals. The BJP, predictably, will portray this as tacit collusion between Congress and BRS to bury inconvenient facts—an allegation that could have been easily neutralised by restoring fair debate.
Rahul Gandhi repeatedly speaks of democratic spirit, dialogue, and respect for institutions in Parliament. That principle cannot be selectively applied. Congress cannot demand moral high ground at the Centre while its governments in states allow Assemblies to function in contradiction to the same values.
The Speaker’s duty extends beyond enforcing rules; it includes safeguarding democracy itself. He must use his proximity to the ruling party to insist that the Opposition be heard—even when the criticism is uncomfortable or unpalatable. Impartiality must not only be visible; it must be demonstrable in action.
In the end, the question remains unavoidable: is the Chair acting as the Speaker of the Assembly—or as a spokesperson for those in power? The answer will define not just this session, but the credibility of the institution itself.
