Heramba Nath
(herambanath504@gmail.com)
The Assam Assembly is not just a political forum—it is the living embodiment of our democratic spirit. It is the House of the people, for the people. And that house deserves dignity.
But what happens when that dignity is disregarded? What happens when elected members behave in a manner that shocks the public conscience, not with the weight of their arguments, but with the weightlessness of their conduct? A recent incident in the Assam Assembly, where an MLA failed to uphold even the most basic standards of civil behaviour, has left many citizens deeply disheartened. The Assembly is not a place for aggression or disorder—it is a sacred space where differences should be expressed through respectful debate, not disruptive drama.
Democracy is built on the foundation of dialogue, debate, and deliberation. The legislature is a space where policies are discussed, laws are enacted, and the people’s representatives raise their voices on behalf of their constituencies. The nature of discourse in an assembly or parliament is a reflection of a nation’s political maturity. Decorum is not just a formality—it is a necessary condition for democracy to function effectively.
The strength of a democracy lies not in the noise of disruption but in the power of meaningful debate. A responsible government and a vigilant opposition are crucial for a healthy democracy. However, when discussions turn into disruptions and debates descend into disorder, the very purpose of the legislature is defeated.
Parliamentary debates have historically been places of intense disagreement. Yet, the greatest leaders were those who managed to challenge their opponents with sharp intellect rather than sharp tongues.
Take, for example, Dr B.R. Ambedkar, the architect of the Indian Constitution. He faced opposition at multiple levels during the draughting process. However, he never resorted to uncivilised behaviour or personal attacks. His strength lay in his reasoning, his patience, and his commitment to democratic principles.
Similarly, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, known for his poetic oratory, was both a strong critic and a graceful debater. As both opposition leader and prime minister, he commanded immense respect—not by shouting, but by speaking with clarity and conviction.
India has had great parliamentarians who mastered the art of debate, from Jawaharlal Nehru to Lal Krishna Advani. Their words carried weight not because they were spoken loudly, but because they were spoken with depth and respect. Today, when legislatures often witness scenes of walkouts, physical altercations, and personal attacks, it raises a question: Have we moved away from the ideals that once defined our democracy?
There is a quiet dream that lives in the heart of every citizen. It is not about power or position. It is about grace. It is about seeing our members—our ministers and MLAs—carry themselves with humility, responsibility, and a sense of collective pride.
Farmers, teachers, artisans, and students – they all seek the same thing: sincerity, not spectacle. Not shouting, but solutions. Not ego, but empathy. A legislature that functions with decorum assures the common man that their concerns are being addressed. But when legislators engage in unruly behaviour, it sends a message of irresponsibility and misplaced priorities.
Consider a teacher in a remote village of Assam. He teaches his students about the Constitution, about the values of democracy, and about the importance of debates in shaping a nation. But what lesson is conveyed when these students see lawmakers engage in disrespectful conduct? It breeds disillusionment and erodes faith in the system.
Our elected leaders are not outsiders. They are us. They rise from among the people and are entrusted with the task of speaking on behalf of millions. When they stand in the Assembly, they do so not as individuals, but as the living voice of their constituency. And with that voice comes the responsibility to speak with honour, to listen with patience, and to act with wisdom.
An MLA who disagrees but does so with courtesy commands more respect than one who disrupts the House. There is immense dignity in restraint. There is courage in calm.
A minister who allows an opposition member to speak uninterrupted shows more power than one who dominates the floor. A true leader understands that listening is as important as speaking.
Let us imagine a better day in the Assembly—a day when all members enter the chamber not as rivals, but as colleagues. The Speaker does not have to repeatedly call for order because order lives in the heart of every representative. When political opponents can debate fiercely but end their session with a handshake, reminding the people that differences of opinion are not differences of purpose.
Many state assemblies and even Parliament have witnessed unruly scenes—throwing of chairs, tearing of papers, and even physical altercations. Such behaviour does not serve democracy; it weakens it. The dignity of the House is diminished when elected representatives forget their responsibility and let emotions override reason.
Political parties must engage in serious reflection. Senior leaders must guide their young colleagues and remind them: respect is the most powerful tool in a democracy. Training sessions for MLAs should include not only legislative procedures but also the art of dialogue, the discipline of listening, and the power of humility. Opposition parties must make it clear—they will question the government strongly but never cross the line of decorum.
The role of the speaker is crucial. The Chair must not only enforce order but also inspire it. A speaker who commands silence through fairness and impartiality restores the honour of the House more than any rulebook ever can. A speaker who takes a stand against disorderly behaviour sets the tone for the entire House. The media, too, must take responsibility. Let headlines celebrate civility. Let prime-time panels highlight members who rise not only to speak but to elevate the tone of the debate. Let the spotlight fall not just on controversy but on conscience.
Democracy is not a mere spectator sport. When voters reward respectful leaders with their mandate, the message becomes clear: we want dignity in our democracy. Cheer not for the loudest voice, but for the wisest one. Let your vote be a call for decency. When our members act with grace, something beautiful happens. The elders in the villages feel proud. The young in classrooms feel inspired. The people feel included in the democratic process—not just in elections, but in every speech, every question, and every answer.
This article is not written in anger. It is written in hope. Hope that the Assembly can be what it was meant to be—a House of wisdom, not noise; a forum of ideas, not insults; a symbol of unity, not division.
To all our MLAs and ministers: you do not have to be perfect. But you must be polite. You do not have to always agree. But you must always respect. The nation is watching. The people are listening. Let your words reflect not just your politics, but your principles. Let your conduct reflect not just your position but your character.
Let the Assembly be a place where arguments are sharp yet respectful, disagreements deep yet dignified, and every session ends not in chaos but in commitment—to the people, the Constitution, and the future of Assam.
Let dignity return to the House. Let it begin not tomorrow, but today.