By K Raveendran
When Chief Justice B R Gavai stated the other day that the Constitution is supreme and all arms of governance come under it, it may have seemed like a routine assertion at a felicitation event in his hometown, but in India’s current political atmosphere, it was anything but routine. It was a subtle yet firm reminder that in a functioning democracy, the foundational text remains the final arbiter. That such a pronouncement had to be made at all speaks volumes about the ongoing tension between constitutional principles and legislative ambition in the country today. At a time when the government appears to view the Constitution with a degree of suspicion, the increasing frequency of confrontations between legislative actions and constitutional boundaries has elevated these tensions into a full-blown national concern.
This assertion by the Chief Justice does not arise in a vacuum. It comes in the wake of an unmistakable pattern where the legislature seems to test the elasticity of the Constitution, pushing to see how far the law can be bent or bypassed in the name of political expediency, majoritarian impulses, or administrative convenience. Judicial review, once regarded as a healthy institutional checkpoint, is increasingly seen by some political actors as an unwelcome hurdle. The executive’s overt irritation with judicial scrutiny, especially in matters like electoral bonds, appointments, civil liberties, and legislative processes, makes Justice Gavai’s message more timely than ever. His reassertion of the Constitution’s supremacy reminds the country—and its lawmakers—that power, no matter how democratically conferred, is still subject to constitutional restraint.
That the Chief Justice also invoked the doctrine of the basic structure of the Constitution—established by the landmark Keshavananda Bharati judgment—is particularly telling. This doctrine has been the single greatest check on untrammelled parliamentary power since it was articulated in 1973. It says, quite simply, that while Parliament may amend the Constitution, it cannot alter its basic structure. This includes principles like the separation of powers, the rule of law, judicial independence, federalism, and secularism. In recent times, this principle has come under increasing strain as amendments and legislative changes raise questions about whether the government is acting within its limits or seeking to undermine these foundational tenets.
The Keshavananda Bharati judgment itself was born in an era not entirely dissimilar to today’s: a period marked by growing centralisation of power and executive assertion. Then too, the judiciary had to assert its authority and underline that constitutional supremacy cannot be ceded to electoral majorities, however large. Today’s context mirrors that history with unsettling clarity. Whether it is the dilution of Article 370, the passage of laws without adequate parliamentary debate, or attempts to control or influence independent institutions, the sense is growing that the legislative arm is not merely functioning within the Constitution but trying to bend it to its will. In this environment, the judiciary’s role as the guardian of the Constitution becomes both more critical and more perilous.
That danger is compounded by the way in which judicial pronouncements themselves are increasingly politicised. Rulings are no longer just legal interpretations; they are treated as ideological statements, drawing praise or censure depending on who perceives themselves to be advantaged or threatened by the outcome. This adds further pressure on the judiciary to walk a narrow line—delivering justice, maintaining institutional independence, and yet somehow surviving in a politically charged arena. Chief Justice Gavai’s remarks are thus not only a reminder to the legislature but a quiet reassurance to the judiciary itself, a reaffirmation of its constitutional mandate in the face of unrelenting scrutiny and political targeting.
More broadly, the tension between legislature and Constitution is a symptom of a deeper issue: the shrinking space for constitutional morality in political discourse. Laws are passed not because they reflect constitutional ideals but because they serve short-term political goals. The Constitution is often reduced to a procedural tool—something to be followed only in form, not in spirit. Institutions are reshaped, rules are tweaked, and legal language is weaponised not to protect citizens but to control them. This erosion of constitutional fidelity is not a legal problem alone—it is a democratic crisis. In such times, it is not only judges and lawyers who must defend the Constitution, but the citizenry itself.
The challenge is compounded by the fact that the Constitution, for all its majesty, cannot enforce itself. It relies on the integrity of those in office, the strength of institutions, and the vigilance of the people. When a government begins to view the Constitution as a set of negotiable guidelines rather than binding principles, every institutional safeguard becomes essential. That is why the CJI’s emphasis on the basic structure doctrine is so crucial: it is one of the few judicial tools that has historically withstood executive overreach. It is not a political doctrine—it is a democratic one, rooted in the idea that certain principles cannot be altered even by overwhelming majorities.
In an age where popular mandates are used to justify sweeping changes, the basic structure doctrine insists that some things must remain untouched, no matter how persuasive the majority. This is the essence of constitutionalism: the idea that a democracy is not merely the rule of the majority, but the rule of law. It is a system where rights exist even when they are inconvenient to those in power, and where institutions are meant to withstand the whims of temporary governments. That is why the legislature’s ambitions must always be tethered to constitutional limits. All governments are temporary; Constitution is permanent.
To be clear, this does not imply that Parliament has no authority or that judicial review should obstruct governance. But in any democratic setup, there is a balance to be maintained. The legislature must legislate, the executive must implement, and the judiciary must interpret. When one branch begins to assume supremacy, the balance breaks down. The Constitution was designed precisely to prevent such a breakdown. That is why the Indian judiciary, especially the Supreme Court, has historically played an activist role—not out of hubris, but out of necessity. Whether it was striking down the emergency-era amendments or upholding individual freedoms against state excess, the Court has repeatedly acted as the final line of defence.
This line is now being tested again. The increasing pressure on institutions, the blurring of lines between party and government, and the aggressive majoritarianism of contemporary politics have all combined to make the judiciary’s task harder. It is no longer just about interpreting the law; it is about preserving the democratic ethos of the Constitution itself. CJI Gavai’s statement, therefore, should not be seen as mere legalism. It is a signal—a quiet but firm assertion that even in these fraught times, the Constitution endures, and so does the duty to uphold it. (IPA Service)
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