The opposition has conducted a mock Parliament, and I can imagine the ruling party laughing. A Parliament in a garden! How ridiculous!
Then comes the awkward question. Why should elected representatives need a lawn to demonstrate what ought to happen inside a building constructed for precisely that purpose?
Normally, mock proceedings prepare us for the real event.
Students practise parliamentary debate before entering Parliament. Here, experienced politicians have assembled outside to remind the government what parliamentary debate looks like. It is rather like hiring a chauffeur, buying him a limousine, and discovering you must stand on the pavement demonstrating how to drive.
“First, you start the engine.”
“We have inaugurated the engine!”
“Then you move.”
“We have issued a statement about moving!”
“But the car is stationary.”
“You are insulting the nation!”
That is the glorious convenience of confusing the ruling party with the country.
Ask a minister a question, and suddenly you have offended civilisation.
Request an explanation, and you are weakening India.
Produce an inconvenient document, and somebody begins examining your patriotism instead of the document.
Imagine employing an accountant who responds to questions about missing money by praising the size of your office. “But where are the accounts?” you ask. “Look at these magnificent premises!” he replies. “The previous accountant never gave you such a splendid reception area!”
Parliament, unfortunately for those occupying the treasury benches, is not a reception area.
The opposition has not been elected to welcome ministers with folded hands and enquire whether their speeches require another standing ovation.
It is there to question them. A government that finds this intolerable has misunderstood its appointment letter.
Watching the mock Parliament, I suggest that the ruling party organise a mock opposition of its own. Carefully selected members could ask reassuring questions. “Honourable Minister, how do you manage to be so wonderful?” Supplementary question: “Does being wonderful leave you enough time to become more wonderful?”
Every answer should be applauded. The Speaker could announce, “The House stands adjourned because the government has exhausted its supply of adjectives.”
But outside, citizens will still have questions. Their concerns cannot be disposed of by winning a shouting match or finding a more photogenic accusation. A government holds office to account for its decisions. It cannot treat scrutiny like an unexpected visitor and instruct the watchman to say nobody is home.
The mock sitting should therefore embarrass the ruling party. When people demonstrate parliamentary discussion in a garden, the government should examine the conditions inside the House before laughing at the chairs outside.
The joke becomes considerably less amusing when the imitation reminds citizens of the original’s neglected purpose.
And most importantly you citizens must notice. We pay representatives to work inside Parliament, not force democracy to look for temporary accommodation among the flowerpots.
The government has the majority, the ministers, the machinery and the building.
Surely it can also manage answers?
Or must the gardener explain that part to them too..!
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