Every Assembly Speaker has a pivotal role in democracy

This high-stakes adjudication tests Kumar’s impartiality, as disqualifications could erode the government’s slim edge, while leniency might invite further judicial rebuke and erode public trust in the anti-defection framework.

This decisiveness in defection matters underscores broader democratic challenges. In an era of coalition politics and fluid alliances, defections erode public trust, fostering cynicism about elected representatives.

In the intricate architecture of parliamentary democracy, the assembly speaker occupies a position of profound influence and responsibility. Often likened to the custodian of legislative decorum, the speaker ensures the smooth functioning of debates, enforces rules, and upholds the sanctity of the house.

Yet, this role transcends mere procedural oversight; it embodies the principles of fairness, impartiality, and democratic integrity. In systems like India’s, where the speaker is elected from among the members of the House but expected to rise above partisan fray, their decisions can shape political destinies. This becomes particularly acute when defections—those opportunistic shifts in allegiance—emerge as decisive factors in government stability. As political landscapes become increasingly fragmented, the speaker’s handling of defection cases under anti-defection laws reveals both the strengths and vulnerabilities of democratic institutions.

The anti-defection law, enshrined in the Tenth Schedule of the Indian Constitution since 1985, was introduced to curb the malaise of “Aaya Ram, Gaya Ram” politics, where legislators frequently switched parties for personal gain.

It disqualifies members who voluntarily give up their party membership or vote against party whips on crucial matters, unless such actions involve a merger of parties or a split affecting at least one-third of the members.

Crucially, the speaker is vested with the authority to adjudicate these cases, acting as a quasi-judicial arbiter. This power is not merely administrative; it can determine the fate of governments, especially in hung assemblies where slim majorities hinge on a handful of MLAs.

Consider the speaker’s role in such scenarios: when defections threaten to topple a regime, the speaker must swiftly yet judiciously evaluate claims. Delays or perceived biases can exacerbate crises, leading to accusations of horse-trading or undue influence.

For instance, in the 2019 Karnataka political turmoil, the speaker’s decision to disqualify 17 rebel MLAs from the Congress-JD(S) coalition was pivotal. It prevented them from contesting by-elections under the new BJP banner, temporarily stabilizing the situation but inviting Supreme Court scrutiny. The apex court upheld the disqualifications but struck down the lifetime ban, underscoring the speaker’s wide discretion—and the need for checks against its abuse. Similarly, in Maharashtra’s 2022 crisis, Speaker Rahul Narwekar’s rulings on the Shiv Sena split between Uddhav Thackeray and Eknath Shinde factions proved decisive. By recognizing the Shinde group as the legitimate party, he effectively legitimized the government change, highlighting how the speaker’s interpretation of “merger” or “split” can redraw power equations.

These episodes illustrate the speaker’s dual-edged sword: empowerment to preserve democratic mandates versus the risk of partisan manipulation. In theory, the speaker renounces party affiliation upon election, embodying neutrality. However, in practice, speakers often hail from the ruling party, raising questions about impartiality.

Critics argue that this setup incentivizes delays in defection hearings to favour the incumbent, as seen in various state assemblies where petitions languish for months. Such procrastination can allow defectors to vote in no-confidence motions or budgets, tilting the scales irrevocably. Moreover, the law’s ambiguities—such as what constitutes a “voluntary” defection or the threshold for splits—amplify the speaker’s interpretive latitude, making their role akin to a kingmaker.

A stark recent example has unfolded in Telangana, where Assembly Speaker Gaddam Prasad Kumar faces mounting pressure over the defection of ten Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS) legislators to the ruling Congress party since March 2024. Elected on BRS tickets in the 2023 assembly polls, these MLAs—including Danam Nagender, Kadiyam Srihari, and Pocharam Srinivas Reddy—bolstered the Congress’s majority but triggered disqualification petitions from the opposition BRS. Kumar, himself a Congress member, has been accused by BRS leaders of undue delays, prompting escalations to the Telangana High Court and eventually the Supreme Court. The apex court, emphasizing that such procrastination undermines democratic principles, directed Kumar to decide the cases within three months. In response, the speaker issued notices to the defectors in August, seeking their explanations amid claims from some MLAs that they merely “distanced” themselves from BRS without formally joining Congress.

This high-stakes adjudication tests Kumar’s impartiality, as disqualifications could erode the government’s slim edge, while leniency might invite further judicial rebuke and erode public trust in the anti-defection framework.

This decisiveness in defection matters underscores broader democratic challenges. In an era of coalition politics and fluid alliances, defections erode public trust, fostering cynicism about elected representatives.

The speaker, as the first line of defence, must navigate this with transparency and speed. Yet, judicial interventions, like the Supreme Court’s 1992 Kihoto

Hollohan verdict affirming the speaker’s decisions as subject to review only on grounds of mala fide or perversity, have not fully mitigated biases. Proposals for reform abound: some advocate transferring defection adjudication to an independent tribunal, perhaps under the Election Commission, to insulate it from political pressures. Others suggest mandatory timelines for decisions, akin to the 90-day limit in some jurisdictions, to prevent strategic stalling.

Globally, parallels exist.

In the UK’s House of Commons, the speaker’s impartiality is sacrosanct, with conventions ensuring they contest elections unopposed thereafter. In contrast, India’s model, while robust, demands evolution to match contemporary realities. As defections become weapons in high-stakes power games—exacerbated by financial inducements or threats—they test the resilience of democratic norms. The speaker’s role, therefore, is not just to preside but to protect the electorate’s will against subversion.

In conclusion, the assembly speaker’s stewardship in defection crises is a litmus test for democracy’s health. When wielded judiciously, it reinforces stability; when tainted by partisanship, it undermines legitimacy. As India grapples with polarized politics, strengthening this institution through reforms is imperative. Only then can the speaker truly embody the democratic ideal: a guardian, not a gatekeeper, of the people’s voice.