The Constitution makes the removal of the Speaker an exceptional and heavily guarded power. Article 94(c) permits removal only by a resolution passed by a majority of all the then members of the House — that is, the actual strength of the Lok Sabha, vacancies excluded but absences counted. At present, this threshold translates into 271 affirmative votes. The framers’ intent is unmistakable: While the Speaker must remain accountable to the House, the office must be insulated from transient political majorities, tactical dissatisfaction, or partisan retaliation.
Equally significant is the elaborate procedural architecture that surrounds the exercise of this power. A minimum of 14 days’ notice is mandatory, and the notice itself must be signed by at least two members of the Lok Sabha. Leave of the House must then be sought, and even at this preliminary stage, at least 50 members must rise in support before the motion can proceed. The resolution, once admitted, is accorded priority in the business of the House, yet debate is carefully regulated.
The resolution must be clearly and precisely expressed, raise a definite issue, and specify the charges with sufficient clarity. This requirement flows not only from the Rules of Procedure but also from Article 96, which confers upon the Speaker the right to participate in and vote on the resolution seeking his or her removal. Principles of natural justice demand that the Speaker know the exact allegations in order to respond meaningfully. Vague or omnibus accusations strike at the very fairness that parliamentary procedure is designed to uphold.
As Speaker Om Birla faces a no-confidence vote, it is worth recalling how carefully Parliament has exercised this power. In over seven decades, the Lok Sabha has confronted this question thrice — in 1954, 1966, and 1987. Each instance reveals not only how the House understood the Speaker’s accountability, but also the discipline it imposed upon itself while testing that power.
The first attempt to remove a Lok Sabha Speaker was made on December 18, 1954, against GV Mavalankar, moved by SS More and seconded by KS Raghavachari. Before the substance of the allegations was reached, More addressed a preliminary objection that such a resolution required the prior consent of the Leader of the House. To rebut this, he relied on a pre-Constitution precedent from 1944, arising in the Central Legislative Assembly under the Government of India Act, 1935. In that instance, rules framed under the 1935 Act had required the Leader of the House’s consent before a motion relating to the President of the Assembly could be moved.
More’s argument was constitutional and deliberate. He pointed out that the 1944 requirement flowed entirely from statutory rules, not from any constitutional principle. The Constituent Assembly was fully aware of this practice, yet when framing Article 94, it consciously chose not to incorporate any such requirement. The omission, he argued, was intentional: The power to remove the Speaker was to vest directly in the House, subject only to the safeguards explicitly written into the Constitution.
This position was unequivocally confirmed by Jawaharlal Nehru, then Prime Minister and Leader of the House: Once Members invoked a constitutional provision, technical objections should not be used to prevent the House from considering the matter.
The allegations against Mavalankar arose from his handling of parliamentary business relating to events in Manipur, including the refusal to allow a Short Notice Question and an adjournment motion concerning alleged violence against Rishang Keishing, a sitting MP. Opposition members argued that the Speaker had relied excessively on the home minister’s official statement, thereby insulating the executive from parliamentary scrutiny.
Senior members, notably Thakur Das Bhargava, cautioned that an allegation of partiality against the Speaker was among the gravest charges Parliament could entertain and required specific rulings, dates, and instances. The deputy Speaker, M Ananthasayanam Ayyangar, presiding, agreed that while Article 94 did not express require charges to be stated, natural justice demanded precision, particularly since Article 96 permits the Speaker to speak and vote on the motion.
Recognizing that this was the first invocation of Article 94, the Chair admitted the motion conditionally, confined debate to specified instances, and ruled that vague expressions had no legal value. When 56 members rose in support, leave was granted. After debate, the House defeated the resolution by voice vote, thereby setting an enduring precedent: Accountability of the Speaker must be tested with restraint, specificity, and institutional seriousness.
The second attempt was on November 24, 1966, when Madhu Limaye sought leave to move for the removal of Speaker Hukam Singh. The proceedings, presided over by the deputy speaker, SV Krishnamoorthy Rao, never advanced to the merits. Instead, they became a prolonged contest over constitutional authority, the binding force of House rules, and the limits of debate at the leave stage.
The controversy centered on Rules 201(2) and (3) (as they then stood), which required members to first obtain leave of the House and expressly prohibited discussion on merits at that stage. The deputy Speaker ruled consistently that no speech or explanation was permissible beyond the formal request for leave.
Limaye challenged this position, arguing that the rule itself was unconstitutional as it curtailed Members’ rights under Article 118, which subjects parliamentary rules to the Constitution. He contended that he could not meaningfully seek leave without explaining why the procedural bar was invalid. This argument found intermittent support from Ram Manohar Lohia, Kapur Singh, and Umanath, who maintained that rules inconsistent with constitutional provisions must yield.
The Chair rejected this line of reasoning, holding that the House, acting through its rules, was sovereign in regulating procedure, and that the Chair could not adjudicate on the constitutionality of those rules during live proceedings. His rulings, he emphasized, were binding, irrespective of disagreement.
Attempts to rely on the 1954 precedent were also dismissed, with the Chair ruling that precedent could not override the explicit wording of the rules as adopted by the House.
When Limaye finally sought leave, alleging arbitrary disallowance of questions, denial of adjournment motions, usurpation of members’ privileges, and abuse of disciplinary powers, only 22 members rose in support, far short of the required 50. Leave was therefore refused, and the resolution failed at the threshold, without any discussion on merits.
The third major precedent arose in 1987, when Somnath Chatterjee, supported by 14 other members, gave notice seeking the removal of Balram Jakhar. Controversy erupted even before the House took cognizance of the motion, as the notice received extensive advance publicity in the press.
The deputy speaker, M Thambidurai, presiding, ruled that advance disclosure violated Rule 334A, which prohibits publicizing notices before admission. While strongly deprecating the conduct, he held that it did not amount to a breach of privilege. On admissibility, the Chair found the motion prima facie defective for vagueness of charges, noting that allegations referred broadly to rulings of the Speaker without identifying specific acts. Since the Constitution allows the Speaker to participate and vote on such a motion, natural justice requires precise and definite allegations.
Nevertheless, following the approach adopted in 1954, the deputy speaker declined to block the House from deciding the matter. Holding that he should not interpose himself between members and the House, he put the question of leave under Rule 200(2). Leave was granted, and the motion was debated. After full discussion, the House defeated the resolution by a voice vote, marking the third occasion on which the Lok Sabha consciously declined to remove its Speaker.
These three episodes share a striking common feature. In every instance, the House had an elected deputy speaker, who presided over proceedings relating to the Speaker’s removal, as envisioned by the Constitution. Articles 93 and 95 mandate that the Lok Sabha shall choose both a Speaker and a deputy speaker, and that the deputy speaker shall perform the duties of the Speaker when the office is vacant or when the Speaker is under removal. This constitutional design ensures continuity, neutrality, and institutional legitimacy at moments of exceptional sensitivity.
That design, however, has been left unfulfilled in recent years. No deputy speaker has been elected since the constitution of the 17th Lok Sabha — a vacancy that has continued into the current Lok Sabha as well. This creates a situation for which no precedent exists. In the absence of a deputy speaker, the House would likely have to rely on a member from the Panel of Chairpersons under the Rules of Procedure. Yet the Constitution is silent on which member of the panel would preside, how that choice would be made, and whether such an arrangement would carry the same constitutional legitimacy in a proceeding of this gravity. Any such determination would itself become a new parliamentary precedent, formed not by explicit constitutional guidance but out of necessity.
Parliament’s own history demonstrates that the power to remove the Speaker has never been treated lightly. All three motions to date were defeated because the House demanded precision, procedure, and restraint before exercising its gravest internal power.
Today, the greater constitutional anxiety may lie elsewhere — in whether Parliament has weakened the very institutional safeguards that make such accountability credible. The continued absence of an elected deputy speaker is not a technical lapse. It is a constitutional omission whose consequences would surface most sharply at the moment when Parliament seeks to hold its highest presiding authority to account.
Ravindra Garimella is a former joint secretary (legislation), Lok Sabha Secretariat, and Priyank Nagpal is an independent researcher and a former LAMP fellow. The views expressed are personal
