Sawant’s tenure marks a period of economic growth, but the systematic stalling of Private Members’ Bills raises troubling questions about the health of legislative democracy in Goa
A few days back, when he phoned me, I cautioned the Chief Minister of Goa, Pramod Sawant, to take care of the stress he is feeling and exercise a lot of restraint in the assembly.
In all my encounters with him, I found him very respectful, friendly, and positive. He is an excellent listener, unlike some of his self-righteous, impatient cabinet colleagues. On March 19, 2026, Pramod Sawant, affectionately called ‘amcho dotor” quietly completes seven uninterrupted years as Chief Minister of Goa — a historic milestone no BJP leader in the state has achieved in a single continuous stretch.
From an “accidental CM” thrust into office by the untimely death of Manohar Parrikar, Sawant has grown into a politically resilient, administratively driven leader who steered Goa through a pandemic, delivered consecutive revenue-surplus budgets, broken the 13-year mining deadlock, and led BJP to a third consecutive term. That record deserves acknowledgement. But governance is not only about what a CM does — it is equally about what he permits, and what he quietly suppresses. And on that count, the seventh-year ends with a glaring democratic stain. The numbers are hard to argue with. Goa’s GSDP for 2025-26 is projected at Rs 1,38,624 crore with a 14.27% growth rate. Per capita income stands at Rs 9.69 lakh — among India’s highest.
The Swayampurna Goa initiative, a third administrative district in the making, mandatory student internships, a new job portal giving local candidates a seven-day head start — these are governance markers that reflect a CM who reads the ground. His crisis response to the December 2025 Arpora nightclub fire — an immediate magisterial inquiry, a statewide safety audit, and compensation announced within hours — showed executive decisiveness when it mattered. Sawant has been praised by political observers for his performance as Leader of the House. But praise for personal performance must not obscure a structural failure that has deepened session by session.
During the monsoon session of 2025, approximately half a dozen Private Members’ Bills sent to the Law Department for vetting by the speaker were simply allowed to lapse, and the issue was forgotten till some of these bills were sent again to the speaker in the ongoing budget session. No explanation was offered for why the law department allowed these bills to lapse. The CM, who also holds the Finance portfolio and effectively controls the legislative agenda through the Business Advisory Committee, showed no interest in clearing them. The silence was the answer. This March, the pattern has repeated — and escalated. Twenty-one private members’ bills submitted by opposition and ruling MLAs were not included on Friday, March 13’s business, the day constitutionally reserved for private members’ legislation and resolutions.
The House, on a day meant for the voice of individual legislators, had nothing to hear from them. The most serious charge against Sawant is not political — it is constitutional. The right of a legislator to legislate is not a courtesy extended by the government of the day. It is a fundamental democratic right, inseparable from the mandate that brought every MLA to the House. When a CM — even one with a comfortable majority — systematically prevents opposition bills from reaching the floor, he is not demonstrating strength. He is demonstrating fear. And that fear is puzzling. Sawant commands a majority. He could permit every one of the 21 bills to be listed, debated, and defeated on the floor without losing a moment’s sleep. That is how parliamentary democracy is designed to work. The Speaker, unlike his counterpart in Parliament, has no independent vetting committee under him, making him entirely dependent on the executive’s willingness to clear bills. He is, by his own admission, helpless.
In seven years, not a single private members’ bill has been vetted, cleared, and brought before the House under Sawant’s watch. That is not an administrative oversight. It is a policy. Look at what the government is suppressing, and you understand the motive. Bills on agricultural land protection, Khazan land conservation, river management, and gambling regulation — every one of these cuts directly across the government’s own agenda of land conversion and casino expansion.
The Law Department vetting process has become, in effect, the government’s private censor. Sawant’s alma mater, Tilak Maharashtra Vidyapeeth — the institution that conferred his Master’s in Social Work — has recently honoured him with a D.Litt., its highest academic recognition. It is a moment of personal pride, and rightly so. But a D. Litt carries with it an obligation: to think beyond the immediate, to act with the larger conscience of the institution one represents.
The CM should direct his officers this week to complete vetting of all pending private members’ bills and place them before the Speaker. Fridays, March 20 and March 27, remain available. The Speaker can list them. The government can debate them, oppose them, and if it chooses, vote them down. That is democracy. What is happening instead — the quiet burial of a legislator’s most basic right — is something that seven years of achievement cannot justify, and that no honorary doctorate can obscure. Sawant has proved he can govern. The question in his eighth year is whether he can lead.
(Dr Nandkumar M Kamat, who has a doctorate in microbiology, is a scientist and science writer.)
