Recent events in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Kerala - where Governors declined to read in full the address prepared by the elected state governments at the commencement of the legislative session - have once again brought into focus the uneasy relationship between constitutional text, convention and political practice.
While these episodes may appear, at first glance, to be symbolic or political disagreements, they raise deeper constitutional questions about the expectations of cooperation embedded within India’s constitutional design.
Article 176 of the Constitution mandates that the Governor shall address the legislative assembly at the commencement of the first session each year and after a general election. Constitutional practice has long understood this address as the formal articulation of the policies and legislative agenda of the elected government. The address is prepared by the Council of Ministers; the Governor, as the constitutional head of the State, delivers it on their aid and advice. This convention is neither ornamental nor incidental; it is integral to the working of responsible government.
Departures from this settled practice are, therefore, not merely breaches of etiquette. They amount to a refusal to perform a constitutionally assigned role in the manner contemplated by the Constitution. More importantly, they signal a breakdown in the culture of cooperation that the Constitution envisages between the Governor and the elected executive.
The Governor’s role under the Constitution is often described as one marked by minimal discretion. This characterisation, however, is incomplete. The constitutional scheme does not eliminate gubernatorial discretion altogether; rather, it differentiates between distinct kinds of discretion, each operating within carefully demarcated constitutional boundaries.
At one end of the spectrum lie situations of independent discretion with tangible constitutional consequences, such as the appointment of a Chief Minister in the absence of a clear majority, or the decision to reserve a Bill for the consideration of the President. In such cases, the Governor is required to exercise independent discretion, albeit guided by constitutional principles and judicially articulated standards. At the other end are functions where no discretion exists at all, and the Governor acts purely on the aid and advice of the Council of Ministers. The Governor’s address under Article 176 belongs to this latter category.
Between these two poles lies a third and often overlooked category: discretion structured around comity and cooperation. It is here that Articles 167 and 175 assume significance. These provisions do not confer veto-like powers on the Governor, nor do they authorise unilateral action. Instead, they are designed to facilitate communication, consultation and institutional dialogue between the Governor and the elected executive.
Article 175 empowers the Governor to address the House or to send messages to it in respect of Bills or other matters pending before the legislature. The importance of this provision lies not in the authority it confers, but in the mode of engagement it prescribes. It recognises that the Governor may harbour concerns or seek clarification to better perform their duties, but channels such engagement through constitutionally sanctioned communication rather than public confrontation or disruption of legislative process.
Article 167 complements this framework by imposing a corresponding duty on the Chief Minister to communicate decisions of the Council of Ministers and to furnish information sought by the Governor. Together, these provisions reflect a constitutional architecture that presupposes dialogue and cooperation, not antagonism.
These contemporary developments highlight how heavily the constitutional scheme relies on convention. The obligation of the Governor to read the address as prepared by the elected government is not spelt out explicitly in the text. Instead, it is sustained by long-standing constitutional practice, inherited from the Westminster tradition.
Interestingly, this convention did not find place in the original draft of the Constitution prepared by Sir Benegal Narsing Rau, but was incorporated later by the Drafting Committee. The Minutes of the Drafting Committee meeting dated January 24, 1948 make this provenance explicit. They record:
“This clause, which is based on practice prevalent in the British Parliament, has been inserted by the Committee as it considers that it will prove useful in our Constitution also.”
The British practice on this matter is unambiguous. Each session of parliament begins with the ceremony of State Opening, a central feature of which is the King’s (or Queen’s) Speech outlining the government’s legislative programme. The speech is drafted by the government and approved by the cabinet. While it is possible that suggestions or observations may be conveyed to the cabinet during the preparatory process, there is no historical material to suggest that the monarch has ever refused to deliver the speech or unilaterally altered its final text once approved by the cabinet.
Given that Article 176 is explicitly modelled on Westminster practice, the Governor’s role is correspondingly limited. The Governor may engage in communication with the state government, including seeking clarification or expressing concern during the preparatory stages. However, the ultimate content of the address rests with the elected government and the Governor is constitutionally obliged to deliver it. The difficulty, however, lies in the fact that the Constitution does not articulate this obligation in express terms, choosing instead to rely on convention.
Such reliance on convention is not unique. Several aspects of constitutional governance operate in a space where constitutional text is supplemented by established practice. Courts have repeatedly acknowledged the constitutional relevance of conventions, even where they are not legally enforceable in the strict sense. Yet, as recent events demonstrate, conventions are only as robust as the institutional commitment to honour them.
The framers of the Constitution were acutely aware of this fragility. During the Constituent Assembly debates, serious consideration was given to the adoption of an “Instrument of Instructions” for Governors. This document would have codified principles governing the exercise of gubernatorial functions, much as the Directive Principles guide legislative and executive action. However, surprisingly, this proposal was abandoned towards the end of the proceedings. I have written about this in a previous column.
Dr Ambedkar defended this decision on two principal grounds: first, that such an instrument would lack enforceability and, therefore, serve little practical purpose. Second, given the Governor’s limited discretionary authority, codified instructions were unnecessary. With the benefit of constitutional experience, this reasoning appears unduly optimistic. Practice has shown that even offices vested with limited formal powers can exert significant influence by relying on constitutional silences and disregarding uncodified conventions. The absence of codified guidance has enabled Governors, in certain instances, to exercise discretion where none exists, or to deploy it in ways that strain the constitutional scheme.
What makes the recent episodes particularly concerning is that they are not isolated. They form part of a broader pattern in which gubernatorial conduct has increasingly become a site of political contestation - whether in relation to assent to Bills, summoning of legislatures or public commentary on governmental action. Each instance, taken individually, may be defended on narrow grounds. Taken together, they suggest a shift away from the institutional comity that the Constitution presupposes.
This shift carries tangible consequences. It strains relations between constitutional offices, invites avoidable litigation and diverts attention from substantive governance. More fundamentally, it unsettles the balance between democratic accountability and constitutional oversight. The Governor, conceived as a constitutional bridge between the Union and the State executive, risks instead becoming a constitutional bottleneck.
None of this is to suggest that Governors must function as passive transmitters of governmental will. The Constitution assigns them a role that includes seeking information, offering counsel and, in limited circumstances, exercising discretion. But that role is structured, not open-ended. It is to be exercised through prescribed constitutional channels and sustained by a commitment to institutional restraint.
In the early days of the Assembly, when pressed for a guarantee that an Instrument of Instruction would form part of the Constitution, Sardar Patel had angrily retorted,
“It has been suggested that there is no guarantee that a schedule will come. There is as much guarantee about it as a guarantee that the house will meet tomorrow.”
In hindsight, Patel’s insistence appears prescient. It reflected a pragmatic recognition of the limits of relying solely on constitutional good faith and unwritten conventions in sustaining responsible government. The subsequent decision of the Drafting Committee to omit such an instrument - preferring convention over codification - has, with the benefit of constitutional experience, revealed its vulnerabilities and merits renewed scholarly attention.
Swapnil Tripathi leads Charkha, the Constitutional Law Centre at the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy.
Views are personal.