Biju Janata Dal MP AU Singh Deo has probably set a parliamentary record of sorts for having repeated the first two sentences of his speech on demonetisation on four separate occasions. This is not because the Rajya Sabha member was perverse but because on four different occasions he rose in his seat to participate in the debate and his voice was drowned out by his fellow Opposition MPs, particularly from the Congress and Trinamool Congress (TMC), with the BSP also chipping in.
Now, the BJD is not a partner of the ruling National Democratic Alliance. It sits in the Opposition, along with the AIADMK, the Janata Dal (U) and the Samajwadi Party, three other formidable regional parties. Nor is BJD supremo Naveen Patnaik the only non-BJP Chief Minister to support the war on black money. Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar, whose personal relations with Prime Minister Modi remain strained, has also supported the PM’s audacious move against black money. So has N Chandrababu Naidu of Andhra Pradesh. Yet no MP in either House from any of these parties got a chance of giving their perspective on the subject.
Sharad Yadav, who nominally represents the JD(U), did get a chance to record his quaint admission that he did not care about a bank account till membership of Parliament compelled him to open one in the Parliament branch of the State Bank of India. But then Sharad Yadav — who first entered Parliament in a by-election as early as 1974 — is Sharad Yadav. The normal rules of political partisanship don’t seem to apply to him. Nor does it apply to Sharad Pawar, another veteran who became Chief Minister of Maharashtra in 1978.
My point is a simple one. India is a vast country with many shades of political opinions. Parliament is also a place where the vast experience of someone like lK Advani, who too entered first Parliament in the mid-1970s, and Sharad Pawar blends with the raw energy of various newcomers of different ages. Moreover, as I discovered in my interactions in the Central Hall of Parliament, the impact of the cash rationing resulting from demonetisation was unevenly experienced. Maybe the Tamil Nadu MPs were too preoccupied with the convulsions in local politics resulting from the sad death of J Jayalalithaa to bother too much with the demonetisation tsunami, but the overall sense is that the most dislocation happened in northern India and West Bengal. Whether that has anything to do with the civic culture of these regions is a matter for sociologists to probe and even explain.
What Parliament does and does not do may be of little interest to a section of the media that attaches undue importance to the animated TV discussions at prime time. However, while these discussions do have some relevance insofar as they also give a voice to those who are not in Parliament, they cannot substitute for the discussions in the House. MPs, when they speak in Parliament, are not necessarily representing themselves; they are also voicing the concerns of their constituents. Consequently, their parliamentary interventions — as opposed to them participating in group discussions on TV — have a special sanctity.
It was this sanctity that was missing in the debate over demonetisation. The continuous disruption of both Houses of Parliament may have served some leaders who wanted to show that their opposition to demonetisation was total and unequivocal — and which also included tormenting the RBI Governor when he visited Kolkata. It may also have served the interests of an immature Congress leadership that seems to be led by the nose and unduly influenced by the perverse political culture fostered by the Chief Minister of Delhi. However, if politics is a little more than sound bites and street demonstrations that appeal to no one but the faithful, then I am afraid this month-long parliamentary washout didn’t help. On the contrary, it even prompted the Treasury benches to join in the bedlam in the final week of the session.
The Treasury benches created their own ruckus for a curious reason. After Manmohan Singh’s intervention, it became very clear to the BJP that the Congress and Trinamool were only interested in having their points of view broadcast on TV. They were determined to not let the Government side get a word in edgeways. The Prime Minister, despite the assurance that he would intervene in the debate, was heckled and called a chor in the well of the House. On two separate occasions, Arun Jaitley tried and failed to respond to the charges made against the Government. And all this because it seemed good TV.
I was one of those who enthusiastically supported the live telecast of Parliament when it began during the confidence vote of 1996. At that time and subsequently the country heard some fascinating debates that certainly helped raise the level of politics. I guess the decline started with the unseemly behaviour of the Opposition during the UPA Governments and what we witnessed between November 16 and December 16 is another chapter of the same, with Rahul Gandhi adding his comic touch to the proceedings outside.
I don’t think that good sense will return in a hurry. There doesn’t appear to be any meeting point between the two sides and the sane Opposition parties don’t seem emboldened to tell the Congress and the Trinamool where to get off. The only course of action I can think of is for the presiding officers of both Houses to unilaterally impose a six-month ban on all live coverage of Parliament. Recorded versions of speeches — but not disturbances — can, of course, be circulated by the two dedicated Parliament channels.
This may seem draconian but if we want Parliament as an institution to survive, I can’t think of soft options.