SUSPENSION WILL HELP PARLIAMENT DO ITS WORK
What a joy to be able to agree with a politician, particularly one who formerly was a BJP member! Today I’m writing to endorse the vice-president’s call for enforcing strict discipline on members of Parliament who deliberately flout rules and disrupt the House.
In a recent lecture, Venkaiah Naidu called for the “automatic suspension” of MPs who rush to the well of the House. That’s an excellent idea. However, to enable this to happen we need Speakers who don’t just act tough but also have the character to assert their authority forcefully. Not everyone is capable of the latter, which means we need to consider more carefully the people we choose for the speakership.
Watch for a moment the British House of Commons or the Australian House of Representatives and you’ll observe the strictness with which the Speakers of either House enforce discipline. Leave aside disruption they won’t even tolerate unparliamentary language. I have seen the Speaker of the Australian lower house compel the prime minister (at the time Julia Gillard) to apologise for her disrespectful reference to the Leader of the Opposition (Tony Abbott). When she did not fully comply the Speaker raised his voice and rebuked the prime minister. Without further ado Gillard apologised.
Yet for Speakers of the Lok Sabha to emulate such behaviour they need to be guaranteed their independence and assured of their continuity in office.
This means we need to follow a second British convention: Once chosen, a Speaker is guaranteed parliamentary re-election. No one will contest their re-nomination as MP. Furthermore, a speaker continues till such time as he or she chooses to step down. This is why John Bercow, the British Speaker, is so different to his Indian counterparts.
One other thing: Our Speakers must have the power to force members to withdraw from the House when they misbehave. In Canberra, MPs, including ministers, who gratuitously interrupt, defy the Speaker’s orders or pass unparliamentary comments, are ordered to leave the chamber and promptly do so. This is a form mode of its disposal — by burning.
The tipping point reached in the winter of 2014. One morning, the smog was so dense and visibility so poor that during my morning walk I bumped into a tree I had known for years. Throughout that winter, doctors advised people to avoid taking morning walks. On several mornings, I stepped out only to come back quickly. My eyes stung, and the air felt dead. It took a year to discover the modest miracle of an air purifier. From day one, they became my lifeline, but I could hardly carry it to my classes.
I started to consider my students, their mental fatigue and restlessness. How could I blame them for lack of concentration? I felt convinced that they were victims of bad air. I certainly was. Yet, it was difficult to make a point like that to anyone. A discourse of pollution had already emerged. It allowed you to claim victimage if you had standard ailments like bronchitis, cough, or asthma. A general feeling of exhaustion and ina- of instant punishment which is imposed as often as necessary. I’ve seen it done three times in the space of just 20 minutes. Then, after an interval of half an hour or so, the offending MP is readmitted.
However, all of this depends on MPs recognising the unique importance of Parliament. Only then will they accept the need for decorous behaviour. This, of course, needs a change in their attitude but the process will be greatly helped if Parliament is restored to the importance it used to have.
These days it doesn’t even meet for 70 days in a year. Over the last 10 years, it’s been between 64 and 67 on an average. In contrast, between the years 1952-1972 the House ran for a period between 128 and 132 days a year.
The record of the present Parliament is particularly dismal. In 2014 the Lok Sabha only sat for 55 days (Rajya Sabha for 52). So far in 2017, both Houses have clocked just 48 days.
Finally, Parliament was reconvened on Friday but I wonder if these issues are at the top of its agenda? No doubt a few individuals share my concerns but what about the institution as a whole? And what about our leading politicians, both of the government and Opposition? Is their silence suggestive?
ONE MORNING, THE SMOG WAS SO DENSE AND VISIBILITY SO POOR THAT DURING MY MORNING WALK I BUMPED INTO A TREE I HAD KNOWN FOR YEARS
bility to sustain focus for long didn’t count.
My decision to leave Delhi meant wrenching myself out of places and things I had grown used to since 1971, when I first came to the city. Life then was starkly different, and not just because I was young. Riding a bicycle to work was not regarded as a sign of low status. Nor was taking a bus. The society of Delhi was neither as acquisitive nor extravagant as it became over the 1990s.
A city needs its people and administrators to identify with it. When the latter bulldozed the Hall of Nations at Pragati Maidan, I became alienated for good. That demolition indicated an end of hope of sanity and recognition of the city’s crisis. As its citizen, I felt helpless. All I could now do was to flee.
The authorities deny that they are taking pollution lightly. Debaters on TV often claim that Delhi’s problems are not unique. Who are they trying to fool? Many eminent doctors have pointed out that a worrisome future awaits children growing up in Delhi today. Even that thought doesn’t inspire sustained radical action. The mountains of garbage on the outskirts smoulder day and night. Coming into Delhi for a visit prompts nostalgia, but these smoking mountains instantly set me right.