Today, when the physical copy of the Constitution has become the leitmotif of dissent and an expression of concern over the health of the republic, the Rashtrapati can play a big role in allaying fears and apprehensions, writes Lt Gen (Retd) Bhopinder Singh.
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THE debate on the motion of thanks towards President Droupadi Murmu’s address to the joint session of Parliament saw the Indian National Congress party’s president Mallikarjun Kharge slam it for “no mention of poor and minorities”.
Kharge’s allegations were partially correct, for while ‘poor’ were not explicitly mentioned, many government schemes to uplift the socio-economically challenged citizenry were. But the issue of ‘minorities’ or their perceived concerns found no mention in letter or spirit in the President’s speech.
The President’s address is practically a political document of achievements and intent of the government, prepared by the government and only read out by the Rashtrapati.
The President’s address is practically a political document of achievements and intent of the government, prepared by the government and only read out by the Rashtrapati.
It flows from Article 74 of the Indian Constitution which states, “There shall be a Council of Ministers with the Prime Minister at the head to aid and advise the President who shall, in the exercise of his functions, act in accordance with such advice.”
To suggest that any President of the republic speaks their own mind in such an address is a fallacy. In that light, the omissions and commissions reflect the dispensation of the day— even if theoretically the Rashtrapati may have some personal reservations about the content.
This raises the age-old question about the power and relevance of the Rashtrapati Bhavan— is it a mere ceremonial office or one that truly represents the collective will of the people of India, its minorities included?
Must not it be the lofty (perhaps singular) window of hope in the high wall of separation that divides those in power from those who feel aggrieved or resented?
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Does not the constitutional role of the ‘First Citizen’ and as the ‘moral conscience-keeper of the Constitution’ extend to raising the often-unheard voice of dissent or disagreement?
Today, when the physical copy of the Constitution of India has become the leitmotif of dissent and an expression of concern over the health of the republic, who more than the Rashtrapati can allay the fears and apprehensions?
The Constitution copy-waving frenzy is no longer about securing any specific constitutional right as much as it is about highlighting the withering of constitutional consciousness and sensitivity. It is about issues such as the shrinking space for debate and dissent, the State’s intrusive control, divisive agendas, and even the framing of laws that perceptibly violate the spirit of the Constitution.
So, while it is understandable that the Rashtrapati reads out the text given by the Union cabinet, she can still strike a dissenting note, if required, albeit to do so in a restrained, judicious, and non-confrontational manner that behooves the dignity of the highest office of the land.
Many Rashtrapatis have done so and added immeasurably to the ‘Idea of India’, whereas some, such as the one who signed the Proclamation of Emergency on the midnight of June 25, 1975, succumbed to open partisanship.
Had he decided to stand up against the implausible and clearly partisan concern of “internal disturbance”, the roots of democratic traditions would have strengthened and regrettable monikers such as ‘rubber stamp’ for various constitutional posts would not have been birthed.
It was a sad diminishment of office, as it had been previously held by giants such as S. Radhakrishnan and Zakir Husain, who could not be pushovers.
The first Rashtrapati, Rajendra Prasad, often dissented from Prime Minister Jawahar Lal Nehru and refused to be beholden or aligned to all of the Prime Minister’s whims and fancies.
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But these were democrats, constitutionalists and patriots cut from a different cloth, who were mature enough to dissent when required but without resorting to optics of anarchy, overreach, blame game, or even counter-partisanship.
This raises the age-old question about the power and relevance of the Rashtrapati Bhavan— is it a mere ceremonial office or one that truly represents the collective will of the people of India, its minorities included?
Democracy was afforded the highest means of ‘checks-and-balances’ on the Executive, as the voice atop the Raisina Hill spoke when necessary. Given the nature of all politicians, it spoke frequently.
Later years saw Rashtrapati Zail Singh lock horns with Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi on the Post Office Bill, 1987. Despite the technicality of both houses passing the Bill, the wise Zail Singh reacted to public concerns and sat on the Bill (as there is no time limit set for Presidential signing)— before demitting office, he left a note for his successor to do likewise, and today it languishes as a ‘pending Bill’, but effectively dead.
It was a creative and necessary move to respect the voice of the citizens without resorting to theatrics or violating the Constitution.
Later, Rashtrapati Shankar Dayal Sharma was to send back two draft Ordinances meant for his promulgation with a telling note, “I would like to inform you that independent of the relative intrinsic merits of the Ordinances proposed, promulgating these Ordinances would appear to be inappropriate and contrary to the canons of constitutional propriety in view of circumstances existing at this particular juncture.”
He was perfectly entitled to send the explanation and the sharpness of his language for ‘reconsideration’ did the needful.
Importantly, all participants in the above two examples, i.e. Zail Singh, Rajiv Gandhi, Narasimha Rao and Shankar Dayal Sharma, were from the same ideological fount— but that was irrelevant, as dissent is a vital necessity in a democracy. Blind acquiescence only befits an autocracy.
Perhaps the finest constitutionalist in the Rashtrapati Bhavan, i.e., President K.R. Narayanan, not only returned drafts for ‘reconsideration’ but also attached elaborate reasoning along with them, which often exposed partisan agendas.
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He was to famously call himself the “Citizen President” and not go by the more condescending and political term “First Dalit President” as he felt he needed to stand up for the citizens and be counted, and not be reduced to a trophy.
In what would be unimaginable in today’s context, he wrote multiple letters of concern (not ghostwritten by his staff) whenever he felt governance was falling short, e.g., in the aftermath of the Gujarat pogrom.
Coming back to the President’s having to read handed-out drafts, A.P.J. Abdul Kalam found an innovative route that did not break from the tradition of reading out the text verbatim.
He deftly added a suggestive poem (in Tamil, titled “Where Are We”) to the opening of the draft and read the same, before reading out the government-given text in toto. The poem was a subtle dig and nudge at the parliamentarians and their conduct but expressed in gentle verse. With a mild twist to the convention, the Rashtrapati had voiced people’s unexpressed concerns.
Today, when we are more polarised than ever before, with many lingering wounds and territorial disputes— from Kashmir to Manipur and Punjab— it is imperative that the Rashtrapati interposes in national affairs with a modicum of necessary checks and balances.
Perhaps the finest constitutionalist in the Rashtrapati Bhawan, i.e., President K.R. Narayanan, not only returned drafts for ‘reconsideration’ but also attached elaborate reasoning along with them, which often exposed partisan agendas.
The Rashtrapati can— and perhaps must— temper and offer an ameliorative recourse to any citizen imagining a wrong, diminishment, or excess by the Executive.
Even occasional silences can speak louder than words if the Rashtrapati refuses to join partisan revelry or event-management dramas, as the magnificent silences in the Constitution about the exact role of the Rashtrapati have been used for the benefit of democracy and India by the likes of Rajendra Prasad, K.R. Narayanan and A.P.J. Abdul Kalam.
All this can be done, beyond the ensuing hullabaloo about the President’s address (which really is given out by the dispensation of the day to read out— the omissions and commissions are a reflection of them, singularly). The Rashtrapati can do far more beyond that.
