When Parliament Becomes a Spectacle, Democracy Begins to Lose Its Voice
"India is not a democracy anymore." It is a striking statement, and Manish Tewari knew exactly the debate it would trigger when he made it. The senior Congress leader and Lok Sabha MP argued that the institutions meant to represent the will of the people have become "all but redundant" and that the country is increasingly operating as a "two-horse system"—an all-powerful executive on one side and a judiciary that appoints its own judges on the other. His conclusion was just as dramatic: unless India's democratic framework is fundamentally reworked, Parliament will continue to drift away from the role the Constitution intended it to play.
It is easy to dismiss such remarks as political hyperbole. That would also be the easiest way to avoid the larger question. Strip away the politics, and what remains is a serious concern about the health of India's democratic institutions. Democracies rarely collapse overnight. More often, they weaken quietly, as institutions lose relevance, accountability gives way to convenience, and procedures continue while their purpose slowly fades.
Parliament is at the heart of this debate. It was never meant to be a ceremonial institution or a battlefield where political parties simply trade accusations. It was designed to be the place where governments are questioned, laws are carefully examined and the concerns of ordinary citizens find a voice through their elected representatives. Increasingly, however, that vision seems to be slipping away.
Every parliamentary session now follows a familiar script. Protests, adjournments, walkouts and slogan-shouting dominate the headlines. Meaningful debate rarely does. Important legislation is often introduced and passed with little discussion, while crucial national issues disappear beneath the noise of partisan confrontation. The institution continues to function, but not always in the way a parliamentary democracy expects it to.
The numbers make that decline difficult to ignore. The first Lok Sabha met for around 135 days during its tenure. Recent Lok Sabhas have struggled to meet even half as often, and many of those sitting days have been lost to repeated disruptions. These are not just statistics. Every sitting that is cut short means fewer questions to the government, fewer debates on legislation and fewer opportunities for elected representatives to perform the job voters sent them to do.
The uncomfortable truth is that this cannot be blamed on one government alone. The steady weakening of Parliament has been unfolding over decades. Governments of different political colours have increasingly preferred executive decision-making over legislative scrutiny. Opposition parties, too, have often chosen disruption over debate, believing that protest inside the House carries greater political value than participation. Together, both sides have contributed to the gradual shrinking of Parliament's authority.
When legislatures stop performing their constitutional role, the balance of power inevitably shifts. The executive grows stronger because it faces less scrutiny, while the judiciary is repeatedly called upon to settle issues that would ideally have been addressed through parliamentary oversight. Neither development strengthens democracy. A constitutional system works best when every institution performs its assigned role instead of filling the vacuum left by another.
This is why Tewari's call for a "fundamental redesign" deserves to be debated rather than ridiculed. One may disagree with his diagnosis or question the remedies he proposes, but the underlying problem is difficult to deny. Parliament needs longer sittings, stronger committee oversight, better legislative scrutiny and, above all, a political culture that values debate over disruption. These are not partisan demands; they are democratic necessities.
India's democracy has never rested on elections alone. Elections decide who forms the government. Parliament decides how that government is held accountable. The two are not interchangeable. When one grows stronger at the expense of the other, democracy may survive in appearance while becoming weaker in substance.
The real question, then, is not whether one agrees with Manish Tewari's choice of words. The more important question is whether India is willing to confront the steady decline of its representative institutions before it becomes irreversible. Democracies are seldom lost in one dramatic moment. They fade gradually, through the slow normalisation of institutional weakness. If Parliament ceases to be the nation's forum for scrutiny and debate, it is not just an institution that is diminished—it is the democratic promise of the Republic itself.
It is easy to dismiss such remarks as political hyperbole. That would also be the easiest way to avoid the larger question. Strip away the politics, and what remains is a serious concern about the health of India's democratic institutions. Democracies rarely collapse overnight. More often, they weaken quietly, as institutions lose relevance, accountability gives way to convenience, and procedures continue while their purpose slowly fades.
Parliament is at the heart of this debate. It was never meant to be a ceremonial institution or a battlefield where political parties simply trade accusations. It was designed to be the place where governments are questioned, laws are carefully examined and the concerns of ordinary citizens find a voice through their elected representatives. Increasingly, however, that vision seems to be slipping away.
Every parliamentary session now follows a familiar script. Protests, adjournments, walkouts and slogan-shouting dominate the headlines. Meaningful debate rarely does. Important legislation is often introduced and passed with little discussion, while crucial national issues disappear beneath the noise of partisan confrontation. The institution continues to function, but not always in the way a parliamentary democracy expects it to.
The numbers make that decline difficult to ignore. The first Lok Sabha met for around 135 days during its tenure. Recent Lok Sabhas have struggled to meet even half as often, and many of those sitting days have been lost to repeated disruptions. These are not just statistics. Every sitting that is cut short means fewer questions to the government, fewer debates on legislation and fewer opportunities for elected representatives to perform the job voters sent them to do.
The uncomfortable truth is that this cannot be blamed on one government alone. The steady weakening of Parliament has been unfolding over decades. Governments of different political colours have increasingly preferred executive decision-making over legislative scrutiny. Opposition parties, too, have often chosen disruption over debate, believing that protest inside the House carries greater political value than participation. Together, both sides have contributed to the gradual shrinking of Parliament's authority.
When legislatures stop performing their constitutional role, the balance of power inevitably shifts. The executive grows stronger because it faces less scrutiny, while the judiciary is repeatedly called upon to settle issues that would ideally have been addressed through parliamentary oversight. Neither development strengthens democracy. A constitutional system works best when every institution performs its assigned role instead of filling the vacuum left by another.
This is why Tewari's call for a "fundamental redesign" deserves to be debated rather than ridiculed. One may disagree with his diagnosis or question the remedies he proposes, but the underlying problem is difficult to deny. Parliament needs longer sittings, stronger committee oversight, better legislative scrutiny and, above all, a political culture that values debate over disruption. These are not partisan demands; they are democratic necessities.
India's democracy has never rested on elections alone. Elections decide who forms the government. Parliament decides how that government is held accountable. The two are not interchangeable. When one grows stronger at the expense of the other, democracy may survive in appearance while becoming weaker in substance.
The real question, then, is not whether one agrees with Manish Tewari's choice of words. The more important question is whether India is willing to confront the steady decline of its representative institutions before it becomes irreversible. Democracies are seldom lost in one dramatic moment. They fade gradually, through the slow normalisation of institutional weakness. If Parliament ceases to be the nation's forum for scrutiny and debate, it is not just an institution that is diminished—it is the democratic promise of the Republic itself.
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