On 8 April 2025, the Supreme Court of India delivered a landmark judgment in State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu, a case that has reignited debate over judicial overreach and the separation of powers in India . The dispute arose from an unprecedented standoff: the Governor of Tamil Nadu had delayed or refused assent to several bills passed by the state legislature, effectively stalling the legislative will. The Tamil Nadu government’s petition accused the Governor of “inaction, omission, delay, and failure” in performing his constitutional duty . In response, the Supreme Court invoked its extraordinary powers to resolve the impasse, ultimately declaring the bills as deemed to have received assent and laying down specific timelines for gubernatorial action . While hailed by some as a victory for constitutionalism and state autonomy, the judgment has been sharply criticized by others as an instance of the judiciary overstepping its mandate . This article critically analyzes the Supreme Court’s ruling and argues that it constitutes judicial overreach, examining its impact on the doctrine of separation of powers among the judiciary, executive, and legislature in India.
The analysis begins with a summary of the facts and findings of the case, followed by an examination of the constitutional provisions at issue – notably Articles 200 and 163 of the Indian Constitution. It then delves into how the Court’s directives may have overstepped judicial authority, drawing on reactions from legal scholars, constitutional experts, and public commentary. To place the issue in context, comparisons are made with how similar conflicts have been handled in other constitutional democracies like the United States and the United Kingdom, highlighting examples of both judicial restraint and activism. Finally, the article discusses the long-term implications of the judgment for Indian democracy and constitutionalism, considering whether such judicial interventions, however well-intentioned, disturb the delicate checks and balances envisioned in the Constitution. The goal is to provide a comprehensive critique of the Supreme Court’s approach in this case as a potential overreach into the domains of the executive and legislature, and to reflect on what this means for the future of separation of powers in India.
Factual Background of the Case
Legislative Standoff in Tamil Nadu
Between January 2020 and April 2023, the Tamil Nadu Legislative Assembly passed a series of bills which were duly forwarded to the Governor for his assent under Article 200 of the Constitution. These bills covered various subjects, but a significant number of them sought to curtail the traditionally broad powers of the Governor – for instance, by reducing the Governor’s role in the appointment of Vice-Chancellors of state universities . This was a bold attempt by the elected state government to reclaim authority from the gubernatorial office (an office often seen as an agent of the Union government in states). However, the Governor of Tamil Nadu, R. N. Ravi, took no action on these bills for an extended period. Some bills remained in limbo for well over a year, with “one since January 2020” pending undecided . By late 2023, a total of 12 bills were stuck awaiting the Governor’s decision.
Frustrated by this prolonged inaction—widely criticized as a “pocket veto” scenario—the State of Tamil Nadu (led by Chief Minister M. K. Stalin’s government) approached the Supreme Court directly. On 31 October 2023, the state filed a writ petition against the Governor, alleging that his failure to act on the bills violated the Constitution and impeded the functioning of the state’s legislative authority. This move itself was unusual, as it pitted a state government against its Governor (a constitutional office normally insulated from legal proceedings) in the apex court, highlighting the gravity of the constitutional impasse.
Upon receiving notice of the petition on 10 November 2023, the Governor reacted swiftly (after months of silence). On 13 November 2023, Governor Ravi suddenly cleared his desk of the pending legislation by “withholding assent simpliciter to 10 bills” and reserving 2 bills for the President’s consideration. In other words, he outright refused assent to ten bills (sending them back to the Assembly with a note of veto) and forwarded two bills to New Delhi under Article 200, which allows certain bills to be sent to the President of India for approval. Crucially, when withholding assent to the ten bills, the Governor did not return them with any specific recommendations or “message” for reconsideration by the Assembly; he simply declined to assent, effectively vetoing them. Those ten rejected bills were physically returned to the state legislature without any suggestion for changes.
Re-passage of Bills and Governor’s Second Action
Tamil Nadu’s government treated the Governor’s veto of the ten bills as a temporary setback rather than a final burial of the legislation. On 18 November 2023, the Legislative Assembly was convened in a special session to reconsider the vetoed bills. In that session, the Assembly passed all ten bills again, without any substantial amendments, essentially reasserting the legislative will behind them. The same day, these re-passed bills were sent back to the Governor’s office for assent, accompanied by the claim that constitutionally the Governor was now “bound to give assent” since the House had reaffirmed its support for the bills . Article 200’s first proviso indicates that if a Governor returns a bill (not a money bill) for reconsideration and the legislature passes it again, the Governor “shall not withhold assent therefrom” . Although in this case the Governor’s initial action was a straight veto rather than a formal reconsideration request, the spirit of the Assembly’s move was to assert its authority by passing the bills a second time, thereby pressing for assent.
In a hearing on 20 November 2023, the Supreme Court took note of the evolving situation. A bench of Justice J. B. Pardiwala (who would later author the final judgment) observed that the re-passed bills were pending with the Governor, and adjourned further proceedings to early December, asking to be apprised of any progress. The stage was set for either a resolution (if the Governor assented) or a deeper confrontation.
On 28 November 2023, Governor Ravi took a further step that escalated the constitutional tussle. Acting “without the aid and advice of the Council of Ministers of the State, in exercise of his discretion,” he reserved all ten re-passed bills for the President’s consideration. By doing so, the Governor avoided either assenting or withholding assent himself; instead, he kicked the decision upstairs to the President of India. In his communication to the Union Government explaining this move, the Governor acknowledged that the state legislature had reconsidered and passed the bills again, and even noted that the bills were within the legislative competence of the State (touching upon entries in the State and Concurrent Lists of the Constitution). However, he justified the reservation on the grounds of potential “repugnancy” with Union law or conflict with the Union List – specifically citing Entry 66 of List I (which pertains to coordination of standards in higher education, often invoked by the Union in contexts like common entrance exams). This was significant because many of the bills dealt with university governance, arguably overlapping with central policy domains. In effect, the Governor claimed that these bills, if made law, could interfere with matters reserved for the Union, and thus he invoked the constitutional provision allowing reservation of a bill for Presidential assent in such cases.
The immediate outcome was that the ten bills left the state’s domain and landed at the President’s office in New Delhi. Under Article 201 of the Constitution, when a state bill is reserved by a Governor, the President may either assent to the bill or withhold assent (there is also an option to direct the Governor to return the bill to the legislature, but since these bills had already been reconsidered, that scenario was moot). The Constitution does not stipulate a clear deadline for the President’s decision either, which meant these matters could potentially languish further. Indeed, by the time the Supreme Court heard the case on its merits, some of the reserved bills had been acted upon by the President: out of the ten, the President (acting on the advice of the Union cabinet) had rejected seven bills, approved one, and left two bills undecided . These actions by the President represented the Union Executive’s concurrence with the Governor’s reservations on most of the items – unsurprising given that the Union’s political alignment was different from Tamil Nadu’s state government. However, the Supreme Court’s intervention was about to upend these developments.
The Supreme Court’s Intervention
In early December 2023 and the following months, the Supreme Court proceeded to hear arguments on the matter, which by then had evolved from a simple complaint about delay into a broader constitutional question: What are the limits of a Governor’s power to withhold assent or delay state legislation, and could the Court provide a remedy if those limits were breached? The case squarely involved interpretation of Article 200 (Governor’s assent to bills) and Article 163 (the requirement of Governors to act on the aid and advice of ministers except in certain discretionary matters), as well as the invocation of the Court’s own extraordinary powers under Article 142 of the Constitution (which empowers the Supreme Court to pass any order necessary for “complete justice”).
On 8 April 2025, the Supreme Court delivered its judgment. The two-judge bench (Justice Pardiwala and Justice R. Mahadevan) ruled decisively in favor of the Tamil Nadu government’s position. It held that the Governor’s long delay and eventual handling of the bills was unconstitutional and “illegal”, and that in the circumstances the Court was justified in intervening to uphold the legislative will . In a rare and unprecedented move, the Court exercised its powers under Article 142 to directly give effect to the ten state bills. The judgment declared that all ten bills “are deemed to have been assented to by the Governor on the date they were presented after being reconsidered”, essentially backdating their approval to November 2023 when the Assembly had re-submitted them. This meant that, by judicial fiat, the bills became law of the land without the formal assent of either the Governor or the President. Consequently, the actions of the President in rejecting seven bills and holding up two were rendered void and of no effect . The Court had effectively “cleared 10 Bills” that had been stalled, overriding both the Governor’s veto and the President’s refusal .
Moreover, the Supreme Court didn’t stop at resolving the fate of these ten bills. Anticipating future conflicts and to prevent such issues from arising again, the Court laid down specific timelines for Governors (and, by extension, the President under Article 201) to act on state legislation. It held that indefinite delays or “pocket vetoes” by Governors are impermissible, reading an implicit requirement of prompt action into the Constitution.
The key directives included:
(a) ordinarily, a Governor should act on a bill (either assenting, withholding, or reserving it) “forthwith,” and in any case no later than one month if acting on the advice of ministers;
(b) if the Governor contemplates withholding assent against the advice of the Council of Ministers, he must return the bill with a reconsideration message within three months;
(c) similarly, any decision to reserve a bill against the state’s advice should be made within three months; and
(d) if a bill is passed by the legislature a second time (after being returned), the Governor must give assent “forthwith,” and in any event not beyond one month.
By prescribing these time frames, the Court aimed to fill what it perceived as a “constitutional silence” on the matter of timelines, to ensure Governors could no longer stall legislation indefinitely.
In summary, the Supreme Court’s findings were two-fold: first, on the specific dispute, it found the Tamil Nadu Governor’s actions (both the delay and the reservation after repassage) to be unconstitutional and quashed them, thereby vindicating the state legislature’s authority; second, on the general principles, it reinterpreted Article 200 to effectively eliminate any notion of an unfettered “pocket veto” or “absolute veto” by a Governor, insisting that Governors are bound by constitutional duty to act in a timely manner and in accordance with ministerial advice except in narrow situations. The Court firmly stated that neither the concept of an indefinite pocket veto nor an absolute discretionary veto exists in the constitutional scheme. It also underscored that when a bill is repassed by the legislature, the Governor has no option but to grant assent (save in the exceptional case where the repassed bill is substantially different, which was not the case here).
While this outcome was celebrated by the Tamil Nadu government and others who viewed it as strengthening democratic governance at the state level – “a victory for all states” as Tamil Nadu’s Chief Minister put it – it simultaneously raised alarm bells about the judiciary’s role. By essentially taking over the function of granting assent to bills and by legislating timelines that the Constitution itself does not stipulate, the Supreme Court ventured into uncharted territory. The stage is thus set to examine the constitutional provisions involved and whether the Court’s actions, however well-intentioned, amount to a transgression of the separation of powers doctrine.
Constitutional Provisions at Stake: Articles 200 and 163
The crux of the State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu lies in interpreting the constitutional provisions that define a Governor’s role in the legislative process and his relationship with the state’s executive leadership. Two key articles of the Indian Constitution came under scrutiny: Article 200 and Article 163.
Article 200 – Assent to Bills: Article 200 governs what happens after a state legislature passes a bill. It provides the Governor with three options when a bill is presented to him: (1) assent to the bill, thereby making it law; (2) withhold assent (veto the bill); or (3) reserve the bill for the consideration of the President of India. The text of Article 200 explicitly states: “When a Bill has been passed by the Legislative Assembly of a State… it shall be presented to the Governor and the Governor shall declare either that he assents to the Bill or that he withholds assent therefrom or that he reserves the Bill for the consideration of the President.” . The use of the word “shall” is critical – it signifies that the Governor is under an obligation to make a declaration one way or the other, implying that inaction is not an option. Indeed, the Supreme Court in the present case emphasized that this wording means there is “no scope of inaction” by the Governor; he must choose one of the three courses available.
Article 200 also contains two provisos (exceptions/qualifications):
- The first proviso allows the Governor to return a bill (if not a Money Bill) to the legislature “as soon as possible” with a message requesting that the legislature reconsider the bill or specific provisions thereof, possibly suggesting amendments . If the legislature does reconsider and passes the bill again (with or without amendments), the proviso states that “the Governor shall not withhold assent therefrom” . This effectively gives the elected House the final word – if they insist on the bill by passing it again, the Governor’s veto is overridden and he is constitutionally bound to give assent. This mechanism is akin to a limited suspensive veto and closely mirrors the provision for the President of India’s consideration of Union legislation (where the President can return a bill once, but if Parliament re-passes it, the President must assent).
- The second proviso mandates that the Governor “shall not assent to, but shall reserve for the consideration of the President, any Bill which in his opinion would, if it became law, so derogate from the powers of the High Court as to endanger [its position].” . This is a specific scenario where reservation is compulsory – essentially to protect the independence of the judiciary (High Courts) from encroachment by state legislation.
Notably, Article 200 (unlike the corresponding provisions for the Union, Articles 111 and 201) does not explicitly specify any timeframe for the Governor to act. This silence allowed, in practice, what came to be known as a “pocket veto” – where a Governor might neither assent nor formally veto nor reserve a bill, simply sitting on it indefinitely. The framers perhaps did not anticipate Governors using delay as a tactic, or expected constitutional conventions to evolve. As events in Tamil Nadu (and earlier, in other states) showed, this gap could be exploited to stall legislation. The Supreme Court’s judgment can be seen as an attempt to fill this gap by reading the phrase “as soon as possible” (from the proviso about returning a bill) as injecting a sense of urgency throughout Article 200’s operation.
Article 163 – Council of Ministers and Governor’s Discretion: Article 163 addresses the relationship between a state’s Governor and its Council of Ministers (headed by the Chief Minister). It establishes that, except in certain special circumstances, the Governor is expected to act on the aid and advice of his ministers. Article 163(1) reads: “There shall be a Council of Ministers with the Chief Minister at the head to aid and advise the Governor in the exercise of his functions, except in so far as he is by or under this Constitution required to exercise his functions or any of them in his discretion.” . In other words, by default, Governors are not free agents; they should follow the decisions of the elected government in state matters. Only where the Constitution itself explicitly specifies that the Governor has discretionary power (or where such discretion is necessarily implied) may the Governor act contrary to or without ministerial advice.
Article 163(2) further provides that if any question arises whether a matter is or is not within the Governor’s discretion, the decision of the Governor in his discretion shall be final, and the validity of anything done by him in his discretion cannot be called into question on the ground that he ought or ought not have acted on advice in that matter. This is a kind of “protective shield” meant to prevent judicial second-guessing of bona fide discretionary decisions. However, this does not mean all decisions a Governor claims to be discretionary are beyond review – they must indeed be of the class that the Constitution designates as discretionary. In practice, truly discretionary powers of Governors are few (for example, the power to reserve certain bills affecting High Court powers, or to report to the President for imposing President’s Rule under Article 356, or selecting a Chief Minister in a hung assembly situation). Crucially, the power to grant or withhold assent to bills under Article 200 is not explicitly listed as one of those discretionary powers in the Constitution. The Government of India Act 1935 (the colonial precursor to our Constitution) had such discretion for Governors, but the framers deliberately omitted the phrase “in his discretion” in Article 200. This implies that the Governor is generally expected to act on the advice of the Council of Ministers even in legislative assent matters, except in the special case like the second proviso (High Court matters) which by its nature is an exception requiring his personal discretion.
In the Tamil Nadu case, these provisions set up the core legal issues: Did the Governor violate Article 200 by not acting “as soon as possible” and by reserving bills after the Assembly repassed them? Was the Governor entitled to act in his own discretion, ignoring the state government’s advice, in withholding assent or reserving the bills, or should he have followed the Chief Minister’s council’s recommendation (which presumably was to give assent)? And relatedly, could the Supreme Court step in to remedy any violation?
The Supreme Court answered these questions by a robust reading of the Constitution that favored the primacy of the elected government’s will and an expedited legislative process. It held that once a bill is passed by the legislature, the Governor is under a constitutional duty to decide on it without undue delay. The Court stressed that Article 200’s phrase “shall declare” means the Governor must make a decision – assent, veto, or reserve – and cannot simply sit on the bill. Further, if the Governor feels he cannot assent, the only constitutionally sanctioned path is to use the first proviso: return the bill with a message for reconsideration “as soon as possible”. Outright withholding of assent without giving the legislature a chance to reconsider (i.e. an “absolute veto”) was deemed “impermissible” except in rare circumstances. In fact, the Court opined that the first proviso is “intrinsically and inextricably attached” to the option of withholding assent – meaning any decision to withhold should trigger a return of the bill for reconsideration rather than a silent veto. By this logic, Governor Ravi’s action of rejecting the bills outright in the first instance (October 2023) without a reconsideration message was against the spirit of Article 200. Furthermore, after the Assembly did reconsider (on its own initiative) and re-passed the bills, the Court said the Governor had no authority to reserve them for President at that stage. The constitutional mandate in the proviso – “shall not withhold assent” – was interpreted as a “clear embargo” on any further dilly-dallying; the Governor must assent to a repassed bill. The Court allowed only a narrow exception: if the bill re-presented was materially different from the original, the Governor might treat it as a fresh bill and could then consider options anew. In Tamil Nadu’s scenario, the bills were the same, so no exception applied.
On Article 163, the Supreme Court asserted that in general the Governor is bound by the aid and advice of the Council of Ministers in matters under Article 200. Only where the Constitution expressly or by necessary implication permits discretion (such as the compulsory reservation for High Court affecting bills, or perhaps in genuine questions of constitutional validity/competence of a bill) can the Governor act against ministerial advice. Even then, such discretionary acts are subject to judicial review to check if they are exercised in accordance with the Constitution and not arbitrarily. The judgment specifically overruled previous suggestions (like those in the B.K. Pavitra case) that the Governor’s decision to reserve a bill is wholly discretionary and immune from scrutiny. The removal of “in his discretion” from Article 200’s text, as the Court noted, was a conscious choice by the framers to limit the Governor’s independent discretion in legislative matters.
In sum, the constitutional provisions, as interpreted by the Supreme Court, strongly favor a model where the legislature and the elected executive have primacy, and the Governor’s role is meant to be largely formal or at best gently advisory (by suggesting reconsideration once). Article 200, properly understood, does not grant the Governor a license to negate majority will at whim, and certainly not to do so by inaction. Article 163 reinforces that except in exceptional situations, the Governor should be aligning with the Council of Ministers’ decisions. Any deviation from these principles, according to the Court, would upset the constitutional balance and democratic mandate at the state level.
This reading by the Court was lauded for closing a loophole that allowed undemocratic delays, but it also effectively curtails what many Governors (especially in opposition-ruled states) had come to see as a sphere of influence. More controversially, by setting judicially enforceable time limits and declaring bills as law by judicial order, the Supreme Court arguably went beyond mere interpretation into the realm of constitutional innovation. To evaluate this, we turn to the critical arguments regarding judicial overreach in this case.
The Supreme Court’s Judgment: Findings and Reasoning
Before assessing whether the judgment amounts to judicial overreach, it is necessary to outline what exactly the Supreme Court decided and the rationale it provided. The ruling in State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu is multifaceted: it resolves the immediate dispute over the ten bills, and it also lays down broad guidelines for the future. Justice Pardiwala’s judgment is exhaustive (spanning over 400 pages), but its key findings can be summarized in several propositions, each of which has significant implications for the separation of powers.
1. Governors Must Act Promptly on Bills – No Inaction Permissible: The Court unequivocally held that a Governor has a constitutional obligation to act on bills within a reasonable time. It condemned the practice of “pocket veto” – where the Governor neither assents nor rejects nor reserves a bill – as unconstitutional . The phrase “shall declare” in Article 200 was interpreted to mean the Governor cannot simply sit on a bill indefinitely. As the judgment put it, the Constitution “permeates Article 200 with a sense of expediency” and does not allow a Governor to “sit on the bills and exercise pocket veto over them.” If no timeline is specified, then the power must be exercised within a “reasonable time” – a principle the Court drew from earlier precedents and general administrative law. Citing its own recent decisions (such as in the case of A.G. Perarivalan (2022), where the Court had intervened after the Tamil Nadu Governor delayed a decision on a pardon, and Keisham Meghachandra (2020), where it set deadlines for a Speaker to decide defection petitions), the Court asserted it is empowered to “prescribe a time-limit for the discharge of any function… which demands expediency.”. Thus, as a principle, the Court found that it could justifiably step in to impose timelines where the Constitution was silent, to prevent abuse of that silence.
2. Withholding Assent and the Obligation to Use the First Proviso: The Court read Article 200 in an integrated manner. It ruled that the option of withholding assent is not meant to be exercised in isolation – it is intrinsically linked to the procedure of return-and-reconsideration provided in the first proviso. In practical terms, this means if a Governor is inclined to veto a bill, he must first return it with a message for the legislature to reconsider, rather than outright vetoing it without explanation. The rationale is that the legislature should get an opportunity to know the Governor’s concerns and address them; an outright veto deprives the legislature of this opportunity and short-circuits the dialogue the Constitution envisages. The Court supported this view by relying on an earlier three-judge bench precedent (State of Punjab vs. Secretary to Governor of Punjab, 2023) which had similarly held that “once the Governor decides to exercise the power of withholding assent to a bill, the operation of the first proviso to Article 200 has to necessarily follow.” In other words, a simpliciter or “absolute” veto by the Governor (without offering reconsideration) is not sanctioned. The Court went so far as to say that an “absolute veto” – where a Governor permanently stymies a bill without legislative reconsideration – **“is also impermissible under Article 200.”*. By this logic, Governor Ravi’s initial handling of the bills (withholding assent to ten bills in November 2023 without any suggestion for changes) was improper. The Court essentially turned what many assumed to be a discretionary prerogative (veto) into a conditional or qualified power that must involve the legislature’s input via the proviso’s mechanism.
3. Re-passed Bills and the Bar on Reservation/Second Veto: A cornerstone of the judgment is the holding that a Governor cannot ordinarily reserve a bill for the President after the state legislature has repassed it following a return. The text “shall not withhold assent therefrom” was given full effect as closing the door on further gubernatorial resistance once the House reaffirms a bill. The Court described this as a “clear embargo” on the Governor – effectively a mandatory assent in the second round. The only exception recognized is if the bill returned and the bill repassed are materially different. If the legislature, in reconsideration, made significant amendments or changed the nature of the bill, one could argue it’s a new bill, potentially re-triggering the Governor’s trio of options. But if it is substantially the same bill (as in Tamil Nadu’s case, where the bills were “passed again… without any material change”), the Governor has no choice but to assent. By reserving the repassed bills for the President, Governor Ravi violated this principle, the Court found. It declared that his action of reservation in the “second round” was “illegal [and] erroneous in law”. Consequently, the Court set aside the reservation of those ten bills, as well as any action taken by the President on them. This is a dramatic outcome: setting aside the President’s decisions is not common, but the Court justified it on grounds that those decisions emanated from an unconstitutional reservation in the first place. The upshot was that the Court wiped the slate clean – it was as if the bills had never been reserved at all.
4. Deemed Assent under Article 142: Perhaps the most striking part of the judgment is the relief granted by the Court using Article 142. After nullifying the Governor’s and President’s actions, the Court could have simply directed the Governor to now give assent to the bills. Instead, it went a step further and deemed that the bills had already received assent. The Court pronounced that the ten bills “are deemed to have been assented to by the Governor on the date when they were presented to him after being reconsidered.” That date was 18 November 2023. By doing so, the Supreme Court effectively enacted those bills into law nunc pro tunc (now for then). This means that legally, Tamil Nadu’s bills became Acts in November 2023 itself, and the state government could act on them as if the Governor had signed them at that time. The use of Article 142 – which allows the Supreme Court to pass orders necessary for “complete justice” – was critical here. The Court evidently felt that remitting the matter back to the Governor for assent would cause further delay and possibly mischief (the Governor or Union could devise new tactics, or the Governor might resign and a new Governor stall, etc.). So the Court short-circuited any further executive role by itself giving the final imprimatur. This exercise of power is rare. The India Today report on the case noted that “passing Bills is the primary task of the legislature and the executive… [this] step taken by the Supreme Court under Article 142” is a rare intrusion into that domain . Indeed, the Court acknowledged this is not a routine power but justified it by the extraordinary facts: a long-standing impasse and what it saw as blatant disregard of constitutional duties by the Governor . By deeming assent, the Court intended to deliver a swift and conclusive remedy.
5. Specified Timelines for Future Cases: To prevent future recurrences of such standoffs, the Supreme Court enumerated specific timelines for Governors and even the President to act under Articles 200 and 201. These were not found in the text of the Constitution but crafted by the Court as a “judicial standard”. The timelines, as gleaned from the judgment, are: (i) If the Council of Ministers advises the Governor to withhold assent or reserve a bill (an unlikely scenario, since usually the government wants its own bills assented, but hypothetically in coalition politics or to drop a problematic private member’s bill, it could happen), the Governor should do so “forthwith,” and in any case within one month. (ii) If the Governor is withholding assent against the advice of the Council of Ministers (i.e. the government wants the bill passed, but Governor disagrees), he must return the bill with a message for reconsideration within three months. (iii) If the Governor intends to reserve a bill for the President against the state government’s advice, he should also do that within three months. (iv) When a bill is presented after reconsideration (i.e. passed a second time), the Governor should give assent immediately; the judgment says “forthwith” and at most within one month. In essence, barring exceptional situations, a bill should not linger with a Governor for more than 3 months without some action, and a repassed bill not more than 1 month. Additionally, although not a formal holding, the Court’s logic extends to the President under Article 201 – it indicated that even the President must decide on reserved bills in a timely manner (the judgment referenced that Parliament had once considered a 6-week time frame for the President to decide on bills reserved for assent, suggesting that long delays at the Union level are also undesirable). In effect, the Court attempted to plug delay at both state and central stages of assent.
6. Aid and Advice Principle Reasserted: The Court reinforced that the Governor should normally act on the aid and advice of the Council of Ministers for granting assent to bills. The judgment clarified that the only exceptions are those explicitly provided (like the High Court related reservation in Article 200’s second proviso) or where Article 163(1) permits discretion. And even in those cases, the Governor’s decision could be reviewed if it’s malafide or unconstitutional. The Tamil Nadu scenario, in the Court’s view, did not fall under any legitimate discretionary exception. Therefore, the Governor ought to have heeded the elected government’s intent to have the bills become law. By not doing so, and especially by acting seemingly at odds with the state’s policy interests, the Governor violated the constitutional scheme of accountable governance.
7. Overruling Contrary Precedents: The Supreme Court explicitly declared that to the extent any prior decisions suggested Governors had unfettered discretion, those were incorrect. It pointed out that B.K. Pavitra (2019), a case concerning a Karnataka legislation where an observation was made about Governor’s discretion to reserve bills, was per incuriam (essentially, a legal mistake) on that point. By removing any notion of broad discretionary veto power, the Court aligned the law with the principle that India is a “Republic” where Governors are not supposed to be super-legislators or political counterweights to the elected government. The Court also recalled historical context: in 1949, President Rajendra Prasad had a famous disagreement with Prime Minister Nehru regarding assent to the Hindu Code Bill (Prasad thought the President had independent discretion; Nehru disagreed and asserted the cabinet’s primacy) . Eventually, the norm established is that even the President follows government advice in assenting to bills. By analogy, the Governor should follow suit at the state level.
Taken together, these findings amount to a significant reassertion of legislative-executive authority at the expense of gubernatorial leeway. The Supreme Court’s tone suggests it viewed the Governor’s role as largely procedural and facilitative, not obstructive. In terms of separation of powers, one could argue the Court was trying to rebalance power between the state executive/legislature and the gubernatorial office (which is part of the executive but often behaves quasi-independently). However, the way the Court achieved this – through a judicial pronouncement rather than a constitutional amendment or parliamentary law – brings the judiciary itself into the limelight. The next section will critically assess whether by doing so, the Supreme Court overstepped its own boundaries.
Judicial Overreach and Separation of Powers Concerns
The doctrine of separation of powers is a cornerstone of constitutional governance. It holds that the legislative, executive, and judicial branches have distinct and limited domains of authority, with checks and balances to prevent any one branch from usurping too much power. Critics of the Supreme Court’s judgment in the Tamil Nadu Governor’s case argue that it is a textbook case of judicial overreach – i.e., the judiciary encroaching upon the functions of the other branches . In this section, we examine the key arguments underpinning the claim of overreach, analyzing how the judgment impacts each facet of separation of powers.
Taking Over the Legislative Function
Perhaps the most glaring aspect of the judgment, from a separation-of-powers perspective, is the Supreme Court’s decision to “deem” the ten bills as having received assent, thereby making them law. Enacting laws is fundamentally a legislative function, and giving or withholding assent is an executive act (vested in the Governor/President). By stepping in to grant approval to the bills via a judicial order, the Supreme Court blurred these lines. As one political analyst caustically observed, “If the SC can approve Bills which are legislative and administrative in nature, why do we need Governors or the President?” . This rhetorical question underscores a real concern: the Court’s order made the presence of the Governor (and even the President) effectively redundant in the legislative process for those bills. Normally, if a Governor unjustifiably withholds assent, the constitutional remedy is political – the Chief Minister and Council of Ministers could pressurize via public opinion, or in extreme cases the Governor could be replaced by the Union (or the state government could wait out the Governor’s term). The framers did not envision the judiciary stepping in to sign bills into law.
By invoking Article 142 to do “complete justice,” the Court certainly had the technical power to do what it did. Yet, the exercise of that power in this manner is what triggers accusations of overreach. Article 142 has been historically used to fill legal vacuums or provide relief in specific cases (for example, to order the release of a detainee when executive delays violated his rights, or to frame guidelines on sexual harassment in the workplace in the absence of legislation, as in the Vishakha case). In Tamil Nadu’s case, the Court used Article 142 to effectively override the explicit decision of another constitutional functionary (the President of India, no less, who had withheld assent to seven bills) . This is arguably a much more intrusive use of Article 142 than usual. It raised concerns that the Court was rewriting the outcome of a legislative process to suit what it perceived as the right outcome.
From a theoretical standpoint, when a court makes law (beyond mere interpretation), it treads into legislative terrain. Here the Court not only made new legal norms (timelines) but also made actual state law operative (the content of those ten bills). This dual leap is why the judgment is seen as extraordinary. An Indian Express analysis termed it “unprecedented” that the Court deemed bills to have been assented from the date they were submitted, effectively bypassing the constitutional process and even nullifying the President’s actions . The horizontal division of power – between judiciary and executive/legislature – was arguably breached . As India Today reported, “the move can also be perceived as a breach of the horizontal division of powers among the organs of the government”, given that passing bills is the job of the legislature and giving assent to that of the executive .
Judicial Lawmaking through Timelines
Another aspect of potential overreach is the Supreme Court’s prescription of specific timelines for constitutional functionaries to act. Critics argue that by doing so, the Court effectively amended the Constitution by judicial fiat . The Constitution itself left the matter of timeframes open, which could be interpreted as deliberate flexibility. The Supreme Court, however, felt compelled to step in with what it termed “determinable judicial standard[s]” for reasonable time.
It is noteworthy that the Court anticipated this criticism and attempted to pre-empt it in the judgment. Justice Pardiwala wrote that prescribing a general time-limit “is not the same thing as amending the text of the Constitution to read in a time-limit… [It is] with a view to lay down a judicial standard… and to curtail any arbitrary inaction.”. In essence, the Court claims it is clarifying the Constitution, not changing it. However, in practical effect, this clarification operates akin to a new rule: Governors now have a de facto deadline that did not exist before, with the threat of judicial intervention if they fail to meet it. Critics remain unconvinced by the Court’s distinction.
Undermining the Executive’s Role
The judgment can be seen as undermining the role of the executive branch in two ways: at the state level (the Governor’s discretionary sphere) and at the Union level (the President’s assent power). By all but eliminating the possibility of a Governor withholding assent contrary to ministerial advice, the Court has constrained the state executive’s independence. One might argue that this is actually reinforcing a democratic executive (since the Governor is unelected), but from a separation-of-powers standpoint, the Governor (as an appointee of the President) is part of the executive branch and endowed with certain discretion. The Court’s decision subjects even those discretionary acts to judicial scrutiny and characterizes any unjustified departure from ministerial advice as unconstitutional. For instance, the Court examined Governor Ravi’s motives and found a “clear lack of bona fides” in his sudden reservation of bills after the Supreme Court’s interim order. While the Governor’s maneuver was arguably politically motivated, the Court labeling it as lacking bona fides steps into evaluating the political conduct of a constitutional office. Traditionally, courts have been wary of inquiring into the “why” of a Governor’s action (beyond legal validity), as those veer into political question territory. Here, the Court had to assess intent to justify its extreme remedy of deemed assent. In doing so, it signaled that Governors could be hauled up for acting as political “roadblocks” contrary to their constitutional duty , which is a warning to the executive functionaries that their actions can be judicially invalidated if perceived as thwarting democracy.
More dramatically, by voiding the President’s rejection of the bills, the Supreme Court encroached on the Union executive’s constitutional role. Under Article 201, the President’s assent or refusal is the final step for a reserved state bill. By overturning the President’s decisions and essentially saying those decisions “do not survive”, the Court put itself above the highest executive authority. This aspect disturbed many, including those in the legal fraternity who otherwise support judicial review. The President of India acts on the aid and advice of the Union Council of Ministers, meaning the Central Government’s will was negated by the Court’s order in this case. If the Union were to appeal, it would likely argue that the Supreme Court’s remedy trespassed into the executive domain, upsetting the constitutional design where the Union government has a say (via the President) in potentially contentious state laws.
Precedent and Institutional Balance
A significant concern about such a judgment is the precedent it sets. If a court can intervene to this extent in a dispute between a state legislature and Governor, what’s to stop similar interventions in other contexts? For example, could courts now compel a state legislature to meet if a Speaker delays convening ? Could courts in the future “deem passed” a budget if, say, a government shutdown scenario occurred due to political stalemate? The fear is that each time the judiciary feels another branch is failing in its duty, it may step in to do the job itself. Justice Pardiwala’s opinion tried to limit the reasoning to Article 200’s context, but the language of holding officials to “reasonable time” standards and ensuring “complete justice” could embolden further interventions.
From a broader lens, the judgment might alter the behavior of Governors and the Union government. Knowing that indefinite delays could invite such a strong judicial response, Governors may be more cautious about delaying or withholding assent going forward – which could be seen as a positive development for governance. However, it could also lead to more litigation, as state governments might be quick to run to the court whenever a Governor delays beyond the prescribed period, rather than resolving issues through dialogue or political channels. The judiciary could become a forum for frequent executive-legislative battles, which is not an ideal scenario for a constitutional democracy.
The separation of powers also entails the idea of checks and balances. In this case, one could argue the judiciary served as a check on a Governor who was thwarting the legislative branch. That is true – the Court’s action did uphold the Tamil Nadu legislature’s decisions, thereby supporting the representative branch. But it did so at the cost of diminishing the checking function that the executive (Governor/President) is supposed to perform. The framers instituted the assent requirement as a check – admittedly a vestige of colonial-era oversight, but kept as a safety valve for unconstitutional or extremely ill-considered state legislation. By making assent virtually automatic after one reconsideration, the Court has curtailed that check. Whether that is good or bad depends on one’s view: proponents will say it prevents misuse by partisan Governors, opponents will say it removes a constitutional safeguard. Regardless, the judiciary unilaterally altered that balance.
Voices of Support vs. Dissent
It is important to note that not everyone sees the judgment as an overreach. Some constitutional experts defended the Court’s move as necessary. They argue that the judiciary acted only because the Governor (and subsequently the Union) violated the Constitution first by stalling and nullifying the democratic process . One expert quoted in media said, “When one constitutional functionary failed, and not only failed but acted illegally, and the Bills were pending for several years, then the court can certainly interfere.” . This perspective frames the Court’s intervention as a corrective measure of last resort to enforce the Constitution’s intent (i.e., that legislative decisions should not be capriciously stonewalled). In this view, the separation of powers is not violated because the judiciary’s role as interpreter and guardian of the Constitution empowers it to step in when another branch steps out of line. The Court itself echoed this sentiment: it portrayed the Governor’s inaction as a constitutional wrong that needed a remedy, and fashioned one in the absence of any other mechanism.
Nevertheless, even those who applaud the outcome might worry about the long-term implications of the method. The saying “hard cases make bad law” resonates here – a troublesome situation in Tamil Nadu led to a bold solution, but that solution now stands as law for all future cases, including less egregious ones. Kumar Govindan, a commentator, remarked, “Using Article 142 in this instance is clear overreach by the Judiciary into the Executive domain… The law has taken (Executive) law into its own hands.” . His play on words (“law has taken law into its own hands”) highlights the discomfort with judges effectively making law under the guise of doing justice.
From a separation-of-powers perspective, a core principle is that each branch should exercise restraint and respect the functions of others. The Supreme Court’s judgment, while rooted in enforcing constitutional mandates, arguably did not show much restraint – it was assertive, even aggressive, in remedy. It did not content itself with declaring the Governor’s actions illegal (judicial review’s classic role); it went further to fix the situation itself (entering executive/legislative role). This self-assertion can be seen as part of a trend of judicial activism. Indeed, the India Today piece notes that Article 142 has been used more frequently and controversially of late, at times drawing criticism for “judicial overreach” – for example, the Supreme Court had earlier invalidated a local election result in Chandigarh and ordered a re-vote using Article 142, which some felt was not the judiciary’s place .
In conclusion, the case exemplifies a scenario where the judiciary’s attempt to reinforce constitutional governance may have itself strained constitutional boundaries. The immediate impact was to correct an abuse by the Governor, but the means employed raise questions about the judiciary’s own adherence to the separation of powers. This tension between outcome and process is at the heart of the overreach debate. To better understand whether this level of judicial intervention is unique or part of a pattern, it is instructive to compare it with how similar issues are handled in other jurisdictions like the United States and the United Kingdom, which we turn to next.
Comparative Perspectives: Judicial Overreach or Restraint in the US and UK
The interplay between the judiciary and the political branches is not unique to India. Other democracies have grappled with courts stepping into domains traditionally reserved for legislatures or executives. Examining the United States and the United Kingdom provides useful contrasts, as their constitutional frameworks differ from India’s, yet they offer instructive examples of both judicial restraint and activism in separation-of-powers issues.
United States: Political Questions and Judicial Activism
The United States, with a presidential system and a strong separation of powers, has a long history of debates on judicial overreach. The U.S. Supreme Court generally avoids interfering in the legislative process itself – for instance, it is virtually unthinkable for a U.S. court to order that a bill be treated as law without presidential assent. This is partly because the U.S. Constitution has self-executing provisions to handle executive inaction (if the President doesn’t sign or veto a bill within 10 days while Congress is in session, it automatically becomes law, eliminating the possibility of a “pocket veto” during session). Thus, an impasse like the Tamil Nadu case is structurally averted by design in the U.S. However, there have been instances where courts have been asked to intervene in politically charged disputes or where their decisions have had far-reaching political consequences, raising accusations of overreach.
One notable example is Bush v. Gore (2000), where the U.S. Supreme Court effectively decided the outcome of the presidential election by halting a recount in Florida. Critics argued that the Court overstepped by inserting itself into a political process that should have been resolved by electoral authorities or Congress . A commentary on the case described the decision as “an astonishing departure from institutional norms with regard to interbranch relations”, essentially calling it a case of judicial overreach into a political domain . While the Court framed its intervention as a one-time necessity (and even cautioned against using the decision as precedent), it drew heavy criticism for violating the principle that courts should not decide elections. Justice John Paul Stevens, in his dissent, lamented that the loser in this case was “the Nation’s confidence in the judge as an impartial guardian of the rule of law.”
That said, the U.S. Supreme Court often employs the “political question” doctrine as a form of self-restraint to avoid entangling itself in matters constitutionally committed to other branches. For example, in Nixon v. United States (1993), the Supreme Court declined to review the procedures the Senate used in an impeachment trial of a judge, holding that impeachment was textually committed to the legislative branch. Similarly, U.S. courts would likely view a dispute over a state governor’s handling of a bill as a political question if it were under a similar system, especially if the constitution provided no judicially manageable standards. In contrast, the Indian Supreme Court in the Tamil Nadu case felt there were manageable standards (reasonable time, constitutional obligation) and thus did not treat it as a political question beyond review.
Another area is when U.S. courts have ordered remedies that affect the legislative or executive domain. For instance, U.S. federal courts have mandated legislatures to redraw electoral districts or ordered states to increase funding for schools to meet constitutional requirements. These orders often spark debates on judicial activism, but they still operate within the realm of enforcing constitutional rights (equal protection, etc.) rather than directly making legislative decisions for the political branches. The U.S. Supreme Court tends to be cautious about directly commanding the President or Congress in how to perform their core functions. Notably, in Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer (1952), the Supreme Court struck down President Truman’s seizure of steel mills during wartime, affirming a check on executive power – a case of judicial restraint in service of separation of powers (stopping executive overreach). The key distinction is that U.S. courts step in to stop unconstitutional actions by other branches (negative action) rather than to mandate or perform actions on their behalf (positive action), which is closer to what the Indian Supreme Court did here.
In terms of timeline enforcement, U.S. courts have occasionally nudged officials to act but rarely set hard deadlines absent statutory grounds. One could analogize the Tamil Nadu case to, say, a scenario of a state governor in the U.S. refusing to sign a law out of time (which, under most state constitutions, would simply result in the bill becoming law without the governor, or a pocket veto if legislature adjourned). Since U.S. systems handle that internally, courts haven’t had to weigh in. But in cases of executive agencies delaying action, courts do sometimes issue what are called “mandamus” orders to compel a decision if unreasonably delayed. The Indian Supreme Court’s order can be likened to a mandamus to the Governor to act – except the Court went further to decide the content of that action. American courts generally would stop at “decide one way or another” and not “we decide for you.”
Thus, compared to the U.S., the Indian Supreme Court’s action is more activist. The U.S. tends to value finality in political decisions and expects the political process to correct itself, whereas in India there is an expectation (or acceptance) that courts may step in to correct dysfunctions in the political process. Judicial review in the U.S. is more about invalidating unconstitutional laws (Marbury v. Madison and its progeny) or stopping ultra vires executive acts, not usually about kick-starting stalled processes with judicial commands. The Tamil Nadu judgment would likely be seen in the U.S. as an extreme form of judicial involvement, one that would raise separation of powers flags in the American context.
United Kingdom: Parliamentary Sovereignty and Recent Judicial Interventions
The United Kingdom’s system is markedly different due to the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty and the absence (until recently) of a codified constitution. Traditionally, UK courts had virtually no role in reviewing the validity of Acts of Parliament or the Queen’s formal actions on advice (like royal assent). Indeed, since Queen Anne in 1707, no monarch (and by extension, no royal representative like a Governor General in realms or governors in colonies) has refused assent to a bill. It became a constitutional convention that the Crown (or its representatives) will always assent to legislation passed by the legislature. If we map this to the Indian scenario, it’s as if the Governor’s assent is a formality always given; any refusal would be a shock. In fact, the deadlock seen in Tamil Nadu would be virtually impossible in the UK because the Queen/King simply does not exercise any personal discretion over bills – to do so would provoke a constitutional crisis. Therefore, UK courts have never had to confront a situation of a head of state or representative blocking legislation against the will of the legislature.
However, in recent years, the UK Supreme Court (created in 2009, taking over judicial functions from the House of Lords) has shown assertiveness in upholding constitutional principles such as the rule of law and parliamentary supremacy against executive encroachments. Two cases stand out:
- Miller v. Secretary of State for Exiting the EU (2017) – This case (often called Miller (No.1)) addressed whether the government could trigger Article 50 (to leave the EU) without Parliament’s approval. The UK Supreme Court held that an Act of Parliament was required, thus asserting parliamentary sovereignty and effectively telling the executive it could not bypass the legislature. Some viewed this as judicial overreach into a political decision (Brexit), but the Court framed it as a vindication of the separation of powers – ensuring the executive did not overturn legislation (the European Communities Act) without Parliament. It was a controversial but measured decision, requiring legislative action rather than the Court itself taking any action on Brexit.
- Miller (No.2) / Cherry (2019) – This is more pertinent when discussing overreach. Prime Minister Boris Johnson advised the Queen to prorogue (suspend) Parliament for several weeks during the height of Brexit debates, widely seen as an attempt to avoid parliamentary scrutiny. The Supreme Court unanimously ruled that this advice was unlawful and the prorogation null and void. This was unprecedented: never before had a court nullified a Prime Minister’s advice to the monarch or effectively reversed a monarch’s formal act (prorogation). The Court reasoned that the prorogation had the effect of frustrating Parliament’s ability to perform its constitutional functions without reasonable justification, and therefore it was justiciable and unlawful. Critics argued this was judicial intrusion into high politics and the prerogative powers. A government lawyer in the case had warned the Court that “It is constitutionally inappropriate for the courts to intervene [in prorogation] because there is a clear separation of powers” – some matters of “high policy” and political process were said to be off-limits . The Supreme Court rejected that argument, insisting that it was the court’s role to ensure that constitutional principles (like parliamentary accountability) are upheld . Still, this decision was seen by some as the UK court venturing into territory that was traditionally governed by political convention. A commentary noted that the Court “extends justiciability and the rule of law into the murky waters of prerogative powers”, and while it strengthened accountability, it also “refresh[ed] parts of the UK Constitution” that had been only convention-based . Some legal scholars posited that the UKSC in Miller (No.2) asserted its constitutional position “under the guise of being Parliament’s trouble-shooter,” warning that if courts repeatedly intervene in political decisions, the judiciary might transform into a more overtly political constitutional court . This mirrors concerns in India that the Court might be overstepping by acting as the arbiter in political standoffs.
Despite these assertive judgments, the UK Supreme Court did not itself impose a legislative outcome. In Miller (No.2), it simply restored the status quo (Parliament in session) and left it to Parliament to act. It did not, for example, pass a law or dictate what Parliament or the Queen should do next beyond not suspending without reason. This is a crucial difference: the UK court enforced boundaries but didn’t take over the process. In Miller (No.1), the court told the government “get Parliament’s approval” but didn’t itself grant approval for Brexit. In contrast, the Indian Supreme Court in the Tamil Nadu case not only enforced a boundary (telling Governors “no indefinite delays or second veto”) but also executed the solution itself (deeming assent given). The latter is a step further than what UK courts have done. The UK’s unwritten constitution relies heavily on conventions – like the convention that royal assent is a formality – which prevent crises. In India, conventions around gubernatorial assent are weaker (some Governors do delay or act politically), so the court felt it had to step in and create a de facto rule.
One could also consider how a UK court might respond if, hypothetically, a monarch withheld royal assent today. Based on Miller (No.2)’s spirit, one might expect the UK Supreme Court to rule such refusal unlawful for breaching democratic principles, or perhaps Parliament would instantly react (probably by removing that monarch’s discretion permanently). But since it’s so far-fetched, it remains speculative.
In the United Kingdom, judicial overreach debates also arise in contexts like the Human Rights Act 1998, where courts can issue “declarations of incompatibility” if an Act of Parliament violates human rights – but they cannot strike it down. This maintains a semblance of legislative supremacy and forces a dialogue rather than judicial fiat. Indian courts, with full judicial review power and more flexible interpretive methods, have fewer compunctions about striking down laws or, as seen here, making laws ineffective or effective by their orders.
In summary, comparative insight: The Indian Supreme Court’s actions in this case are unusually interventionist when seen against the practices of courts in the US and UK. The US judiciary, while powerful in reviewing constitutionality, usually refrains from dictating positive actions to the political branches and steers clear of directly resolving political stalemates (with the contentious exception of Bush v. Gore, which itself is often criticized as an overreach ). The UK judiciary has recently been active in policing the limits of executive action (especially to protect Parliament’s role), but it stops at declaring what cannot be done rather than actively doing it for the other branches. The Tamil Nadu case, where the court both declared what the Governor did as illegal and then proceeded to do what the Governor/President ought to have done, is a bolder approach. It reflects the Indian judiciary’s self-conception as a vanguard of constitutional governance, willing to insert itself into processes to ensure the system runs correctly. This has benefits in checking abuse, but it also has costs in terms of blurring branch boundaries.
Having examined these cross-country perspectives, we can now consider what this judgment portends for the future of Indian democracy and constitutionalism.
Long-Term Implications for Indian Democracy and Constitutionalism
The Supreme Court’s judgment in State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu may have resolved an immediate crisis, but it also sets the stage for lasting changes – both positive and negative – in India’s constitutional landscape. Here we discuss some of the long-term implications for Indian democracy, federalism, and the doctrine of separation of powers.
Strengthening State Autonomy and Democratic Governance
On one hand, the judgment can be seen as a boost for state governments and legislative autonomy. Chief Minister M. K. Stalin hailed the verdict as a “victory for all states”, suggesting that states under Governors appointed by a hostile central government now have a judicial precedent to ensure their legislation isn’t indefinitely stifled . Indeed, several non–Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) ruled states (such as Kerala, Telangana, West Bengal, etc.) have had similar tussles with their Governors in recent years – ranging from delays in signing bills to public spats over policy. This ruling equips those states with a tool to push back. If a Governor now withholds assent or delays beyond the Court-mandated timelines, the state government can credibly threaten legal action, and the Governor’s office would know the likely outcome in court. Thus, the judgment arguably tilts the balance a bit away from the Union (which appoints Governors) toward the elected state leadership, reinforcing the federal principle that state legislative decisions, reflecting the popular will in that state, deserve respect.
The judgment also reinforces democratic norms by making it harder for an unelected official to override elected ones. By eliminating the “pocket veto” and curtailing the “absolute veto,” it ensures that the will of the people’s representatives in the state assembly is not nullified without at least being sent back for reconsideration and, if reasserted, ultimately respected. In the long run, this could discourage the practice of appointing openly partisan Governors, since their capacity to influence legislation is now tightly circumscribed. It might also encourage future Governors to act as constructive constitutional heads (offering timely suggestions or reserving only when absolutely necessary) rather than as political adversaries to the state government.
From a citizen’s perspective, the outcome is beneficial in that laws passed by their representatives cannot be held hostage indefinitely. The people of Tamil Nadu, for instance, saw their Assembly pass laws (like those altering university governance) that were in limbo; now those laws are in effect, reflecting the mandate given to the state government. If people disagree with those laws, they can register their displeasure in the next election, but at least the democratic process is allowed to play out rather than being stymied in the halls of Raj Bhavan (the Governor’s residence).
Judicial Empowerment and Its Risks
Conversely, the judgment undeniably empowers the judiciary – specifically the Supreme Court – by expanding its role as the arbiter not just of what the law is but how it ought to operate. The Court asserted a power to actively remedy constitutional dysfunctions. While this can be applauded in scenarios where other branches fail, it also cements a paternalistic role for the judiciary that can be double-edged.
One risk is the expectation of judicial intervention becoming the norm. Political actors might be tempted to “wait for the Court” to solve issues rather than negotiating in the political arena. For example, an opposition party in a state might not mount as much public pressure on a recalcitrant Governor if they believe the courts will eventually step in. Or a ruling party might prefer a legal battle to a political compromise. This could, counterintuitively, increase litigation and judicialization of what are essentially political disputes. The more the judiciary enters the fray, the more it may be drawn into controversy and criticism (as happened in the U.S. after Bush v. Gore, where the Court’s prestige suffered among a section of the populace). Over time, frequent interventions could erode the perception of the judiciary as an impartial umpire, instead casting it as another power center susceptible to political calculations.
Another risk is that the logic of this judgment might extend to other areas, potentially upsetting settled practices. For instance, the Court also in this judgment talked about Speakers needing to act on disqualification petitions (the Court in a parallel development set timelines for Speakers, akin to what it did for Governors) . If every constitutional office is put on a judicial clock, we might see more accusations of courts usurping legislative or executive privileges. The core tension is between efficiency and propriety: the Court’s timeline ensures efficiency (no indefinite delays), but from a propriety standpoint, who should set the rules of the political game – the players themselves via legislature or the referee (court)? Some argue that if such changes are needed, they should come via constitutional amendment by Parliament or formal laws, not through judicial decree. The judgment notes that perhaps “the need of the hour is a constitutional amendment” as one analyst put it – likely a sarcastic remark that the Court effectively did amend the Constitution. If Parliament disagrees with the Court’s approach, it could theoretically amend the Constitution to reassert something (for example, explicitly give Governors more time or power – though politically that would be contentious). We’ve seen in the past Parliament clipping judicial wings after perceived overreach (the 42nd Amendment during the Emergency attempted to curtail judicial review, though it was later mostly undone).
Federal Relations and Union-Justice Tensions
The case also has a federal dimension in Union-State relations. Governors are appointed by the Union government. This judgment, in voiding the President’s decisions, indirectly is a rebuke to the Union’s stance on those Tamil Nadu bills. Going forward, Union governments might feel that the Supreme Court is tilting the scales in favor of state governments in federal tussles. If a state law contradicts central policy, earlier the Union could rely on a Governor’s reservation and a Presidential veto to safeguard its interest. Now, if that process is seen as mala fide or excessively delayed, the Court might override it. This shifts some power from the Union to the judiciary in resolving federal conflicts. We might see the Union government being more careful and timely in advising Presidents on state bills, to avoid giving courts an excuse to intervene. The central government may also instruct Governors (behind the scenes) to adhere to the new timelines – ironically improving the situation the Court wanted, but due to judicially imposed fear rather than voluntary reform.
A looming question is whether the Union will seek review of this verdict.If such a review happens, the ultimate outcome might modify or uphold these principles. A larger bench could conceivably dial back the “deemed assent” part Or it could affirm everything robustly, embedding it firmly in precedent. Until then, the judgment stands, and it might embolden to invoke Article 142 or inherent powers to cure legislative/executive impasses.
Accountability and the Counter-majoritarian Dilemma
This judgment also brings into focus the counter-majoritarian nature of judicial decisions. While in this case the Court sided with the elected majority in the Assembly, it still raises the theoretical issue of an unelected judiciary making decisions of great import. The separation of powers is partly about ensuring accountability: legislators are accountable to voters, executives to the legislators (in parliamentary system) and voters, judges mostly only to the Constitution. By extending its reach, the judiciary takes on more responsibility, but traditional democratic accountability for those choices is absent. One could argue the Court is accountable through reasoned judgments and the possibility of review or even impeachment in extreme cases, but those are indirect. If the Court’s judgment had gone the other way – say it validated the Governor’s actions – it would have thwarted the legislature with no immediate remedy since judges are not voted out. In this case, aligning with the legislature meant the counter-majoritarian difficulty was minimized. But the principle – that two judges can effectively make law – remains.
Need for Constitutional or Legal Reform
The judgment may prompt formal changes. There could be a push to amend the Constitution to explicitly lay down a time limit for Governors and President on bills, thereby legitimizing what the Court did and removing any ambiguity. Alternatively, Parliament could amend the law to clarify the scope of Article 163 (perhaps making Governor’s actions justiciable to an extent, or specifying where discretion lies) or to refine Article 200. However, any such amendment would be politically sensitive, as it touches the federal compact. States ruled by the central ruling party might not mind Governors having leeway, while opposition-ruled states would want stricter limits on Governors. Achieving consensus in Parliament might be difficult. The Court’s intervention may thus stand as the operative guideline unless politically countered.
There may also be a rethinking of the role of Governors altogether. This case adds to the argument that the post of Governor, as currently used, leads to avoidable frictions. Committees in the past (like the Sarkaria and Punchhi Commissions) have recommended reforms such as fixed timeframes for assent, consultation in Governor appointments, and so on. Perhaps this judgment will accelerate implementation of such recommendations, making Governors more accountable and less partisan.
Judicial Image and Self-restraint
For the judiciary itself, the long-term implication may be introspective. The Supreme Court has always walked a tightrope in India – being a counter-majoritarian check (striking down laws, defending rights) and yet not appearing as an unelected super-legislature. After the excesses of the Emergency era, the Court became more activist (the PIL era, etc.), earning public trust as a protector of the people’s interests. This judgment too will likely enjoy public support in Tamil Nadu and among those wary of overweening Governors. Yet, the Court must be cautious not to be perceived as overstepping too often, lest it invite backlash or diminish its moral authority. One immediate effect might be on how two-judge benches handle big issues.
In conclusion, the Supreme Court’s judgment is a double-edged sword for Indian democracy. It empowers elected governments at the state level and reaffirms that constitutional processes cannot be held hostage by inertia or politicking . It addresses a real problem of democratic deficit caused by appointed officials. But in doing so, it augments judicial power and inserts the Court deeper into the machinery of governance, which could have unpredictable consequences. The long-term success of this intervention will depend on how responsibly all parties behave post-judgment. If Governors start adhering to their constitutional boundaries and if courts use such powers sparingly, the net effect will be positive: a more accountable executive and a vibrant federal democracy. If, however, the judgment becomes one of many where courts routinely micro-manage political processes, it could engender conflicts between the judiciary and other branches, and perhaps even calls for curbing judicial powers. As with many things in constitutional law, only time will tell – but there is no doubt that State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu will be remembered as a watershed moment that tested the resilience and adaptability of India’s separation of powers.
Conclusion
The Supreme Court of India’s ruling in State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu is a landmark that simultaneously advances democratic governance and raises searching questions about judicial reach. By compelling a recalcitrant Governor to act and ultimately giving effect to the will of the Tamil Nadu legislature, the Court upheld the spirit of representative government and filled a void in the constitutional scheme regarding timelines for assent to bills. It asserted that constitutional functionaries cannot derelict their duties under the cloak of silence or open-ended discretion, thereby reinforcing accountability . In doing so, the judgment has clipped the wings of an unelected gubernatorial office often criticized for acting as a proxy of the central government, and it has fortified the principle that a state’s legislative will, once firmly expressed, must prevail in the ordinary course.
However, these laudable outcomes were achieved through an extraordinary assertion of judicial power – one that arguably ventured beyond the Court’s traditional role. The Supreme Court not only interpreted the Constitution but effectively rewrote the operational rules of Article 200 by judicial fiat, imposing concrete deadlines and even assuming the role of giving assent to legislation. This has led many to argue that the judgment is an instance of judicial overreach, blurring the lines among the three branches of government. The Court’s action has been described as a “breach of the horizontal separation of
In conclusion, State of Tamil Nadu vs Governor of Tamil Nadu is a bold chapter in India’s constitutional story – one that affirms that no office is above constitutional accountability, but also blurs the boundaries of judicial intervention. It underscores that the doctrine of separation of powers in India is not a rigid division but a dynamic equilibrium constantly being negotiated. The judgment’s impact on Indian democracy will be judged in the years to come by whether it indeed fosters a more responsive executive and a more respected legislature, or whether it prompts a re-evaluation of the judiciary’s own limits. As with any powerful medicine, the treatment of curing gubernatorial overreach by a dose of judicial overreach needs careful monitoring. The Supreme Court has delivered a solution – it now falls upon the democratic process, perhaps with some introspection and adjustment, to ensure that this solution becomes part of a healthy constitutional practice and not a source of new ailments.
Author
Dr Rajat Rajan Singh
Advocate
Allahabad High Court, Lucknow
Email- rajatrajansingh@gmail.com
