Pranab Mukherjee delivered one of the most un-listened-to-speeches of all time in Nagpur. It was heard no doubt, but the import of his words was lost on his intended audience because of their content, and also on his un-intended audience because of the context. It’s hard to fathom what was the purpose of this exercise. Mukherjee’s political career ended in 2012 — specifically, the day he was elected the President of India.
The best, good faith reading of this situation, was that Mukherjee wanted to engage in dialogue with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, but this is not necessarily a body that has been known for enlightened debate. Some would suggest that this was the RSS craving the legitimacy of a former President of India – a life-long Congressman no less – in a grand televised spectacle.
One wonders what legitimacy a former President can further afford an organisation whose political wing has won a single party majority in the Lok Sabha and is in government in twenty States of the Union.
His political career, as I’ve said before, ended in 2012 and “citizen” Mukherjee, as his twitter handle seeks to remind us, enjoys no position, responsibility, or authority within his erstwhile party, let alone the government.
Pranab’s Prime Ministerial Bid?
But that is today. Delhi’s whisper-network has it that this speech prepared the ground for a potential prime ministerial bid in 2019, should the political situation demand it.
One cannot foresee Mukherjee forming a political party, campaigning across the country and storming to power in a landslide, so one expects that the RSS and Mukherjee hope for a very particular set of outcomes which might result in this possibility.
Specifically, that the BJP emerges as the single largest party, but falls well short of halfway mark in the Lok Sabha, and needs allies in addition to what’s left of the National Democratic Alliance to form the government.
The thinking goes that in order to attract acceptable coalition partners (and avoid internecine fighting), the RSS/BJP might be forced to look outside its own fold and find acceptable names for the post of PM, with Mukherjee being one such name.
Should the scenario play out just as above, it’s quite possible that the optics of this speech might be the very thing that stands in the way of his candidature. That far from being a last-minute “acceptable face” (ala Narasimha Rao or Manmohan Singh), the perception that he’s just another pawn of the RSS might get in the way, if not his advanced age.
Should Ex-Presidents Return to Politics?
Be that as it may, this scenario also throws up a very thorny constitutional problem as well: should ex-Presidents involve themselves in politics after they retire? Or to be more specific: should former Presidents be permitted to become MLAs, MPs, CMs or even PMs if they so choose?
One could ask “why not?”. There is no explicit constitutional bar on former Presidents standing for elections in the constitution or under any law. Perhaps there shouldn’t be. After all, there is no constitutional bar on judges becoming elected representatives or vice-versa. Two notable examples, from opposite sides of the political spectrum, being Justices Krishna Iyer and KS Hegde.
Governors, who occupy a somewhat analogous position to the President at the state-level, have flitted between elected office and the ceremonial post, the most notable recent one being SM Krishna.
There is, however, a counter to this, and it has to do with the position of the President of India. Even though as the Head of State, she is entirely bound by the “advice” of the government of the day, she is supposed to represent the Indian State and not just the Government. The Constitution mandates that the President immediately give up any office of profit and cannot be a member of any house.
Whereas the Governor serves at the pleasure of the President, the President herself can only be removed by the process of impeachment like a Supreme Court judge. While a Supreme Court judge operates within the confines of an institution (the judiciary), the President stands on a very different footing — akin perhaps to the Chief Justice of India.
This is perhaps why the appointment of Justice Fatima Beevi as a governor did not cause as much consternation as the appointment of Chief Justice Sathasivam as the Governor of Kerala. Even if there is no truth to the allegations of quid pro quo, the perception that there might be, is sufficiently damaging for the institution of the Chief Justice of India.
Restricting President’s Right to Stand?
But should we restrict a former President’s right to stand for elections in the absence of any constitutional provision to the contrary? The absence of a provision explicitly spelling something has never been taken to mean that this is not what our Constitution says and means.
The “dark matter” of the Constitution, as Justice Chelameswar put it so eloquently in his concurring opinion in the Puttaswamy judgement, is where the basic structure doctrine resides, constitutional conventions such as the seniority principle in appointment of the Chief Justice of India and indeed the right to privacy itself was found.
Even if it may not say, it is quite clear that the Constitution did not intend it to be so when it comes to the question of the President’s post-retirement role.
Unlike the office of the governor which has generally suffered from the soft bigotry of low expectations, as recent incidents have confirmed, the office of the President has retained its lustre.
Some have no doubt performed better than others. Presidents have stood up to not only leaders of weak coalitions, but also to those who have enjoyed the largest majority in Indian history.
This has not always involved histrionics in the public glare, but a quiet word or just simple inertia. Though the office may not be vested with constitutional power, it is vested with a certain constitutional dignity. In allowing the Presidency to become just another milestone in a political career, the constitutional dignity vested in this office, which allows its occupier to play the intended role, gets diminished.
Whatever may have been Mukherjee’s intentions in giving the speech in Nagpur, and whatever his future course of action, perhaps he may want to reflect upon the implications of his speech upon the dignity of the highest office he once held.
(Alok Prasanna Kumar is a Senior Resident Fellow at Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, Bengaluru.)
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