SC Puts Revanth Reddy on the Mat: Defection Law Comes Home to Roost

The Supreme Court’s directive to the Telangana Assembly Speaker to respond within two weeks on the long-pending disqualification petitions against BRS MLAs who crossed over to the Congress has done more than rattle the political establishment in Hyderabad. It has reopened a national debate on the credibility of India’s anti-defection framework and the uncomfortable truth that political convenience, not constitutional morality, has governed its application for decades.

While any eventual disqualification may not numerically threaten Chief Minister A. Revanth Reddy’s government, the optics are politically bruising. For the Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS), it is a rare moral and legal opening to reclaim lost ground, projecting itself as a victim of the very culture it once mastered. For the Congress, which prides itself on constitutional legacy, it is an awkward moment of being seen on the “wrong side” of a law it itself authored.

The anti-defection law, enshrined in the Tenth Schedule of the Constitution through the 52nd Amendment Act of 1985, was introduced by none other than the Rajiv Gandhi-led Congress government. Its explicit purpose was to end the infamous “Aaya Ram, Gaya Ram” culture that had reduced legislatures into political marketplaces, where MLAs and MPs were traded like commodities to manufacture majorities. The law was meant to elevate democratic ethics over brute political arithmetic.

Four decades later, that lofty intent lies buried under layers of procedural delay and political manipulation.

In Telangana, the story has come full circle. The BRS, during its two tenures as the ruling party, perfected the art of political poaching, drawing legislators from the Congress, TDP, and even YSRCP, often justifying it as “natural alignment” or “development-driven politics.” Court directives, both from the Telangana High Court and the Supreme Court, were frequently met with studied indifference, especially when petitions for disqualification gathered dust in the Speaker’s office.

Now, with roles reversed, the Congress finds itself in a familiar grey zone. The Speaker’s prolonged inaction on the fate of defectors into the ruling party has triggered judicial impatience. The Supreme Court’s intervention is not just about a handful of MLAs; it is a broader warning to constitutional authorities that the Tenth Schedule cannot be reduced to a political shield for the government of the day.

Legally, the court has consistently held that while the Speaker is the designated authority to decide defection cases, this power is not beyond judicial review. In landmark judgments such as Keisham Meghachandra Singh vs. Speaker, Manipur Legislative Assembly (2020), the apex court went so far as to recommend a time frame for deciding disqualification petitions, acknowledging that indefinite delays effectively subvert the Constitution.

That is precisely what is now under scrutiny in Telangana.

The political irony is hard to miss. The Congress, which once projected itself as the custodian of democratic norms by institutionalizing the anti-defection law, is now being accused of benefiting from the same loopholes that once helped regional and national parties alike consolidate power through defections. The BRS, despite its own record of encouraging political crossovers, is suddenly on the side of constitutional propriety, at least rhetorically.

This shifting moral high ground reveals a deeper malaise in India’s political culture: principles often matter only when a party sits in the opposition.

Yet, the Supreme Court’s firm posture signals a possible inflection point. If enforced in letter and spirit, the law could restore some sanctity to the electoral mandate, reminding legislators that they are elected by voters, not by party negotiators in back rooms. It could also force Speakers, traditionally seen as partisan actors, to function as neutral constitutional authorities rather than political gatekeepers.

For Revanth Reddy’s government, the immediate fallout may be limited to political embarrassment rather than legislative instability. But the longer-term implications are significant. A precedent of timely, judicially monitored action on defections could alter the calculus of power-building across states, including in those where fragile majorities are propped up by political turncoats.

Ultimately, this episode is not just about Telangana or the BRS versus Congress rivalry. It is a test of whether India’s democracy is willing to enforce the rules it proudly wrote for itself in 1985—or continue treating them as optional, depending on who holds the reins of power.