India’s Contentious Amendment: A Comparative Lens on Democratic Accountability

On August 20, 2025, India’s Union Home Minister, Amit Shah, introduced the Constitution (One Hundred and Thirtieth Amendment) Bill in the Lok Sabha, a proposal that has sparked intense debate in the world’s largest democracy. The bill mandates the removal of elected officials—Prime Minister, Chief Ministers, or ministers—if detained for 30 days or more on charges punishable by five years or longer, without requiring a conviction. Companion legislation extends this provision to Union Territories and Jammu and Kashmir. Presented as a measure to ensure moral integrity in public office, the bill has drawn both support and criticism, with defenders citing the need for accountability and detractors warning of its potential to destabilise opposition-led governments. Mr. Shah’s own history—arrested in 2010 for 94 days in the Sohrabuddin Sheikh fake encounter case, later acquitted, with unresolved questions about witness deaths—has intensified scrutiny. How does this proposal compare to mechanisms in other democracies, and what lessons might India, or a hypothetical American equivalent, draw?

India’s Proposal: A Delicate Balance

The bill aims to uphold public trust by ensuring elected officials face consequences for serious allegations. Mr. Shah, a key figure in the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), argues it addresses moral lapses, referencing his own 2010 detention as an example of politically motivated charges. Supporters see it as a deterrent against corruption. However, critics, including Congress leaders like Manish Tewari and AIMIM’s Asaduddin Owaisi, argue that tying removal to detention, not conviction, risks abuse. In India’s polarised political climate, where arrests can be influenced by central or state authorities, the bill could target opposition figures, as seen in recent cases like Arvind Kejriwal’s 2024 detention. The 2010 Sohrabuddin case, where Mr. Shah was acquitted but witness Tulsiram Prajapati’s death and Judge B.H. Loya’s passing raised suspicions, fuels concerns about impartiality, though no definitive evidence links Mr. Shah to these incidents. Referred to a Joint Parliamentary Committee, the bill’s fate hinges on addressing these tensions.

Canada: Parliamentary Prudence

Canada, a federal parliamentary democracy, offers a contrasting model. The Parliament of Canada Act allows the House of Commons or Senate to suspend members for misconduct, such as criminal charges, typically via a vote. Senator Patrick Brazeau’s 2014 suspension for fraud charges, pending judicial resolution, exemplifies this cautious approach. Removal generally requires conviction, as seen in provincial laws like Ontario’s Municipal Act, which vacates seats only after legal finality or prolonged absence.

Compared to India’s bill, Canada’s system demands stronger evidence—conviction or parliamentary consensus—reducing the risk of premature action. Independent ethics commissioners and a robust judiciary further insulate decisions from political influence. In a U.S. context, where due process is sacrosanct, Canada’s model would resonate, requiring more than detention to justify removal. India’s lower threshold, while aiming for accountability, lacks these checks, raising questions about executive overreach.

United Kingdom: Voter-Driven Accountability

The United Kingdom’s Recall of MPs Act 2015 allows constituents to petition for an MP’s removal if convicted of an offence with a sentence under a year or suspended from Parliament for 10 sitting days. The Representation of the People Act 1981 disqualifies MPs for convictions exceeding a year’s imprisonment. Fiona Onasanya’s 2019 ouster after a conviction for perverting justice highlights this process, which empowers voters through petitions (10% of constituents) and relies on judicial outcomes.Unlike India’s detention-based trigger, the UK’s system prioritises convictions and public input, ensuring democratic legitimacy. Its independent judiciary mitigates risks of partisan manipulation. In the U.S., where public distrust in Congress hovers at 8% (Gallup, 2025), a recall mechanism would appeal, offering citizens a direct role. India’s bill, by contrast, operates without voter involvement, amplifying concerns about top-down control, especially given Mr. Shah’s controversial past.

Australia: Judicial Gatekeeping

Australia’s Constitution (Section 44) disqualifies MPs convicted of offences punishable by a year or more, with the High Court as arbiter, as seen in the 2017 “Citizenship Seven” case. Criminal convictions, like those potentially facing MP Andrew Laming, trigger removal, while states like New South Wales suspend pay during serious charges but await judicial outcomes. This judicial oversight contrasts with India’s reliance on detention, which could be swayed by political authorities.

Australia’s conviction-based system aligns with U.S. practices, where Congress expels members (e.g., James Traficant in 2002) only after convictions, requiring a two-thirds vote (Article I, Section 5). Both nations prioritise legal finality, unlike India’s bill, which risks hasty removals. Australia’s High Court model could guide India toward stronger judicial checks, addressing fears of misuse in cases like Mr. Shah’s.

The U.S. Hypothetical: A Polarised Response

If a U.S. official—say, a former Attorney General with a brief jail stint and unresolved allegations—proposed a similar bill, it would ignite fierce debate. Republicans might champion it as a tool to root out corruption, while Democrats could decry it as a means to target rivals, evoking Trump’s indictments or January 6th cases. The U.S. Constitution’s due process protections (5th and 14th Amendments) would likely render such a bill unconstitutional without a conviction requirement. The Supreme Court, despite its own controversies, would face pressure to intervene.

Public reaction, amplified by Social Media and polarised media, would reflect deep divisions. Progressives might fear disproportionate impacts on minority leaders, while independents, with only 35% viewing democracy positively (YouGov, 2022), would question elite motives. Unlike India, the U.S.’s independent judiciary and decentralised media would constrain the bill’s passage, but the debate would deepen public cynicism, mirroring India’s trust deficit.

Lessons for Democratic Systems

India’s bill, with its detention-based trigger, is an outlier among democracies, which favour convictions or robust oversight. Canada’s parliamentary checks, the UK’s voter-driven recalls, and Australia’s judicial gatekeeping offer balanced approaches. The U.S., with its high expulsion threshold, underscores due process. To strengthen India’s proposal:

• Adopt Conviction-Based Rules: Align with Canada and the UK, requiring judicial outcomes to prevent abuse.
• Enhance Oversight: Emulate Australia’s High Court or Canada’s ethics bodies to ensure impartiality.
• Engage the Public: Introduce UK-style recall petitions for democratic legitimacy.
• Ensure Transparency: Disclose sponsors’ legal histories and bill implications, addressing doubts about figures like Mr. Shah.

India’s bill seeks to uphold public office’s integrity but risks undermining democracy without these safeguards. Other democracies show that accountability need not sacrifice fairness. For India, or a U.S. equivalent, the path forward lies in blending judicial rigor, public input, and transparent processes to ensure trust endures.