There was a time when entering Parliament required stature. Today, it sometimes appears all one needs is a slogan, a placard, and a reliable pair of vocal cords.
The latest spectacle in the Lok Sabha would have been comic had it not been consequential. The Opposition has once again stalled proceedings while attempting to initiate a motion to remove the Speaker. For only the third time in independent India’s parliamentary history, such a move has been mounted. One would assume that an extraordinary, constitutionally sensitive step would be undertaken with solemn preparation and procedural precision.
Instead, the country witnessed confusion wrapped in indignation.
Article 94 of the Constitution is clear: a Speaker may be removed by a resolution passed by a majority of all the then members of the House, provided at least 14 days’ notice is given. The safeguard is not ornamental. It protects the neutrality of the Chair and the stability of parliamentary functioning. The Speaker is not a political football to be kicked whenever the Opposition runs short of arguments.
Yet the notice, reportedly signed by 118 members, failed to strictly conform to procedural requirements. Rule 198 of the Rules of Procedure governs such resolutions. Notices must be properly framed. Grounds must be clearly stated. Signatories must be in order. This is not clerical trivia; it is constitutional architecture.
Ordinarily, such a defective notice would have been rejected by the Lok Sabha Secretariat. Instead, upon noticing the flaws, the Speaker, Om Birla, is said to have allowed corrections and directed the Secretariat to accept it — even though the motion sought his own removal. In doing so, he arguably enhanced the dignity of the Chair rather than diminished it.
The irony is stark. Members elected to legislate appear unwilling — or unable — to follow the very procedures that lend legitimacy to their authority. Parliament is not a television debate. It runs on rules. When those rules are treated as inconveniences, the institution suffers.
Disagreement with the Chair is not new. From G.V. Mavalankar to Somnath Chatterjee, Speakers have faced criticism. But removal motions have been rare precisely because mature democracies recognise their gravity. To convert them into recurring pressure tactics is to trivialise the office.
The deeper concern is institutional erosion by attrition. Every stalled session costs the exchequer crores. More damaging is the loss of legislative time. Bills remain pending. Scrutiny weakens. Debate shrinks. The Opposition has every right to protest and to move resolutions. But rights in Parliament exist within a framework — not outside it.
When obstruction becomes strategy and procedure becomes optional, democracy turns performative.
This is not the first time public figures have stumbled over procedure. Recall when former Finance Minister P. Chidambaram — widely regarded as a formidable legal mind — saw an early bail plea rejected due to technical deficiencies before a corrected application was entertained. Courts demand precision. Parliament, however, increasingly appears willing to tolerate chaos.
There is also a dangerous precedent in normalising removal motions as routine political weapons. If every adverse ruling invites a threat of removal, the neutrality of the Chair is undermined. Future Speakers may hesitate to act firmly, fearing partisan backlash.
Robust protest is the lifeblood of democracy. But protest is not synonymous with procedural illiteracy. If Members of Parliament struggle to draft, debate, and defend positions within the rulebook, what confidence can citizens have in their legislative seriousness?
The embarrassment here is not ideological. It is institutional.
The tragedy is not that the Opposition disagrees with the Speaker. The tragedy is that disagreement increasingly substitutes for governance. Parliament was designed as a deliberative chamber, not a decibel arena.
Democracy thrives on dissent. It decays on disruption without discipline.
And when lawmakers treat procedure as a nuisance rather than a necessity, the nation is left with a troubling question: are we strengthening institutions — or steadily trivialising them?
India deserves legislators who respect the law before they attempt to rewrite it.
