Governor RN Ravi’s actions in Tamil Nadu stand severely indicted and his continuance in office would be a constitutional abomination.
Published Apr 14, 2025 | 5:05 PM ⚊ Updated Apr 14, 2025 | 5:05 PM
The court has held that the Governor must act in almost all matters on the advice of the Council of Ministers, and cannot be a rival power center.
Synopsis: Constitutions speak only when they are forced to. In the case of the State of Tamil Nadu vs. Governor of Tamil Nadu, the Supreme Court made the Constitution roar: loudly, and at just the right time.
The Supreme Court’s judgment in the State of Tamil Nadu vs. Governor of Tamil Nadu resets the balance between elected governments and constitutional figureheads.
For far too long, Governors appointed by the Centre, behaved like Governors General in opposition ruled states. Their anger or silence, when prolonged in public office, became sabotage.
The facts were simple. The Tamil Nadu Assembly passed several Bills. The Governor did not assent to them but returned them for reconsideration by the Assembly. When they were reconsidered and presented again for his signature, he forwarded them to the President for her assent. In some cases, the rigmarole continued for over three years.
The court called this what it was: Unconstitutional.
Article 200 of the Constitution gives a Governor four options when a Bill is sent for assent: approve it, withhold assent, return it (if it’s not a money Bill), or reserve it for the President. What it does not allow is indefinite inaction.
The court clarified that a Governor must act within a “reasonable time.” More than that, if the Assembly re-passes a bill returned by the Governor, he is bound to give assent. The phrase “shall not withhold assent” is a constitutional command, not a polite suggestion.
The constitutional silence that was stretched too far
Political theorist Michael Foley, in The Silence of the Constitutions, warned about this kind of abuse. Every constitution has built-in silences—gaps that are meant to be filled by convention, good faith, and restraint. When constitutional authorities stretch these silences to breaking point, they destroy the very flexibility that keeps the system alive.
That’s what happened here. Article 200 doesn’t fix a time limit for assent—but it assumes that the Governor will act. The silence was supposed to enable discretion in rare cases. Instead, it was used to disable the legislature itself.
Foley’s insight is clear: Constitutional systems can tolerate silence, but not bad faith.
The judgment also casts doubt on a long-standing assumption: that the President or Governor can exercise a “pocket veto” by simply doing nothing.
In India, this has often been accepted as an implied power. But after this ruling, that idea looks shaky. If the Governor must act within a reasonable time, and the Constitution does not permit indefinite silence, then how can the President do the same ? The logic of this ruling may well extend to the Union government. Pocket vetoes, at both levels, may soon be constitutionally untenable.
This is not just about legal process—it’s about democratic legitimacy. Governors are not elected. They are appointed. Their role is to uphold the Constitution, not to act as political sentinels for the Centre. Dr. BR Ambedkar, had warned against Governors becoming “embodiments of obstruction.”
The court has held that the Governor must act in almost all matters on the advice of the Council of Ministers, and cannot be a rival power center. That’s not judicial activism. That’s just the Constitution being read out, slowly and clearly.
This verdict doesn’t only apply to Tamil Nadu. It applies across the country, wherever governors have taken liberties with their role—Kerala, Punjab, West Bengal, Delhi.
The court did not take names. It didn’t need to. Its message is unambiguous: if you are a constitutional head, act like one. Do not block legislation. Do not forget that the people have already voted—and not for you. This is a reassertion of federalism, not a reimagining. The balance was never meant to tilt toward unelected appointees.
What stands out is the tone. The court didn’t overreach. It didn’t issue personal rebukes. It stayed within the lines of constitutional interpretation but made them bold enough that no one could miss the message. After laying down the law, it could have very well asked the Governor to formally assent to the Bills.
But given the history of the matter and the delay that had already occurred, the Supreme Court used its special powers under Article 142, to deem that the Bills had been assented to on the date that they were again presented to the Governor. In doing so, it has brought back a principle that had faded in recent years: that power must follow responsibility, and authority must not be used to obstruct democracy.
This judgment does not guarantee future compliance. But it arms state governments with a precedent. It puts pressure on constitutional authorities to explain themselves. And perhaps most importantly, it reminds citizens that democracy is not just about voting—it’s about institutions respecting the outcomes of those votes.
Governor RN Ravi’s actions in Tamil Nadu stand severely indicted and his continuance in office would be a constitutional abomination. Constitutions speak only when they are forced to. In this case, the Supreme Court made the Constitution roar: loudly, and at just the right time.
(The author is a Senior Advocate designated by the Supreme Court of India. Views are personal. Edited by Majnu Babu).
