The Supreme Court’s verdict on April 8 regarding the Bills passed by the Tamil Nadu government concerning the appointment of Vice-Chancellors in state universities has stirred intense reactions across the political and legal spectrum.
Supporters of the ruling state government have hailed the verdict as a resounding victory, claiming it to be a Himalayan triumph for Tamil Nadu and its Chief Minister, who, they say, is now a guiding light for leaders across other Indian states. Emotional assertions have even called for the Governor’s resignation, suggesting that he must step down with dignity—or be forced out with bowed head.
Conversely, critics have raised concerns about the judgment, arguing that it was misguided, possibly based on flawed legal counsel provided to the Governor. They claim the court has overstepped its mandate, intruding into the administrative domain.
The Supreme Court in an aunprecedented ruling said all the 10 bills passed by the Assembly come into effect from the date they are introduced. The Court has made it clear that the Governor’s delay in processing these Bills was unwarranted.
However, to truly understand the issue, one must approach it with discernment—“True wisdom lies in discerning the essence,” as the Tamil saying goes. Both the Tamil Nadu government and the Supreme Court appear to have viewed this matter solely through the narrow lens of Article 200 of the Constitution**, which governs the Governor’s assent to state legislation.
Under Article 200, a Governor may:
1. Give assent to a Bill,
2. Withhold assent,
3. Reserve it for the President’s consideration, or
4. Return it to the Legislative Assembly (unless it is a Money Bill).
If a Bill is returned and re-passed by the Assembly, the Governor must then assent to it—this, the Supreme Court affirms. It also insists that the Governor cannot, at that stage, forward it to the President. The state government too has taken a similar stand.
But here lies a constitutional subtlety that has gone overlooked. All Bills do not fall under the same category. The Constitution classifies them into three distinct types:
– Money Bills,
– Bills concerning matters solely in the State List , and
– Bills concerning matters in the Concurrent List (involving both the Centre and the states).
The Governor has no discretionary power over Money Bills—they must be passed as is. Bills concerning state subjects may be returned once but must be assented to if re-passed.
However, for Concurrent List Bills , Article 200 does not apply. Instead, they are governed by Article 254 . If a state law contradicts a central law on the same subject, the central law prevails, unless the President gives explicit assent to the state law.
The ten Bills in question—all related to higher education—fall squarely within the Concurrent List. Hence, Article 254 is the applicable clause, not Article 200.
Now, let us examine the crux of these Bills. They seek to:
– Remove the Governor from the role of Chancellor of state universities, and
– Bar the inclusion of UGC-nominated members in the committee that selects Vice-Chancellors.
But both these provisions are entrenched in central legislation: the Governor must be the Chancellor, and UGC representation is mandated by law. These Bills directly contradict existing central statutes, rendering them legally void from inception. Even if passed and repassed, they hold no legal weight.
In that context, the Governor’s prolonged possession of these Void or dead Bills has caused no damage. Since they were born void, they cannot be “enforced” in any case—unless the President, under special consideration, grants assent. Therefore, it is legally permissible for the Governor to send them to the President at any time.
The irony here is that it appears the Tamil Nadu Chief Minister has been misadvised. Rather than acknowledging the limits of legislative authority, the state has presented an illusion of power, staging what some view as a theatrical performance under the guise of Dravidian ideology. The Supreme Court, knowingly or not, has applauded the spectacle.
Should this case move to appeal, the ruling may well be overturned. Until then, the state will continue its performance—and the commentary around it will go on, both as critique and as song.
