A chair empty in the upper house: Why filling the vice president’s office matters for India’s democracy
Heramba Nath
When Vice President Jagdeep Dhankhar announced his resignation on 21 July 2025, citing health concerns, India was confronted with a vacancy that many citizens might have overlooked but which constitutionalists and parliamentarians instantly recognised as a gap at the very heart of the Republic’s parliamentary machinery. The Vice President is not a ceremonial ornament, nor simply the person in waiting to replace the President if necessary. This office is woven into the daily functioning of democracy, carrying both symbolic and practical significance. Its absence, even for a short while, leaves a quiet imbalance in the constitutional architecture, the effect of which may not be felt in an immediate political crisis but which subtly weakens the dignity and completeness of parliamentary governance.
The dual nature of the Vice President’s role makes the vacancy significant. Constitutionally, the Vice President is the second-highest office in the Republic, a position that ranks directly after the President in the order of precedence. But in daily political life, the more visible role is as the ex-officio Chairperson of the Rajya Sabha, the Upper House of Parliament. The Rajya Sabha is not merely a legislative chamber; it is the institutional embodiment of the federal principle, representing the states of India in the national legislature. Here, the Vice President must act as an impartial arbiter, ensuring that debates are orderly, members are heard, rules are followed, and legislative proposals are examined with the level of scrutiny that the framers of the Constitution intended.
An empty Vice President’s chair therefore does not simply mean a missing dignitary at official ceremonies; it means the absence of a constitutionally mandated presiding authority in a chamber where balance and fairness are essential. The Deputy Chairperson of the Rajya Sabha, currently Harivansh Narayan Singh, can preside in the interim, and he has the skill to do so. But there is an undeniable difference between a deputy temporarily holding the gavel and a Vice President elected by the entire Parliament. The Vice President’s authority comes not just from the rules of procedure but from the legitimacy of an electoral mandate given by both Houses acting together as an electoral college. That legitimacy grants a unique moral and political weight, particularly when navigating the turbulence of contentious legislative sessions.
The constitutional provision governing such vacancies is found in Article 68(1), which requires that an election to fill the Vice President’s office be held “as soon as possible.” This phrasing is at once practical and problematic. It is practical because it allows flexibility—important in the 1940s when communication and administrative arrangements were far slower than today. But it is problematic because it creates no binding outer limit. In contrast, the Presidency has a clear constitutional deadline under Article 62(1), which requires an election within six months of a vacancy. The framers may have assumed that “as soon as possible” would be interpreted in good faith and executed swiftly, but in a political environment where timing can influence outcomes, ambiguity can be exploited.
In the current instance, the Election Commission of India has acted with commendable efficiency. The notification for the Vice Presidential election was issued on 7 August, with nominations closing on 21 August, scrutiny on 22 August, withdrawal permitted until 25 August, and voting—if necessary—scheduled for 9 September. This means the vacancy will have lasted less than two months. Yet the speed in this case should not blind us to the fact that nothing in the Constitution prevents such a vacancy from lingering longer.
History shows that India has seldom allowed prolonged vacancies in this office. When Vice President V. V. Giri resigned in 1969 to contest the Presidency, the post remained vacant for a little over two months before Gopal Swarup Pathak was elected. Similarly, when Krishan Kant passed away in 2002, the election to replace him was completed within the same time frame, leading to the election of Bhairon Singh Shekhawat. These prompt timelines have been a matter of political convention and respect for the institution rather than constitutional compulsion. Conventions, however, can erode over time unless they are fortified by either legal timelines or an enduring political culture of urgency.
The Vice President’s election process itself is unique. Unlike the Presidential election, in which both Members of Parliament and Members of State Legislative Assemblies vote, the Vice President is elected solely by Members of Parliament—Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha combined. This design was deliberate, reflecting the view that the Vice President’s work is primarily within Parliament and thus should be judged by Parliamentarians themselves. The electoral college for this post is smaller than for the President, but it has the virtue of being composed entirely of legislators at the national level, which strengthens the link between the office and the daily life of Parliament.
Because of this structure, Vice Presidential elections often serve as quiet political temperature checks. In years when the ruling party enjoys a strong parliamentary majority, the result may be a foregone conclusion. But in times of coalition politics or when opposition parties hold a larger share in the Rajya Sabha, the election can become a more contested and revealing event. It is a rare occasion when both Houses’ members vote together, and thus an opportunity to see whether political divisions in one chamber are mirrored or moderated in the other.
Comparatively, other democracies handle similar roles differently. In the United States, the Vice President is elected alongside the President and presides over the Senate, casting tie-breaking votes. A vacancy there is filled not by election but by Presidential nomination and Congressional confirmation, ensuring no prolonged absence. In Australia, the President of the Senate is elected by the Senate itself, so the office is never vacant in the same way. The United Kingdom’s parliamentary system has no national Vice President; presiding roles are elected internally within each chamber. India’s choice to elect its Vice President nationally but limit the electorate to MPs creates a hybrid that is rare in global practice and makes the continuity of this office particularly important.
Beyond procedure, there is the matter of perception. For the general public, the Vice Presidency may not be as visible as the Prime Ministership or the Presidency, but it is still part of the nation’s ceremonial and constitutional identity. When such a post is vacant, even temporarily, it sends a signal—subtle, but noticeable to those who follow governance—that the machinery is running with a gap in its formal structure. In an age when institutional trust is under strain worldwide, visibly complete and functioning constitutional offices are a quiet reassurance of stability.
Moreover, vacancies in high offices can create space for political manoeuvring. In the absence of a clear deadline, parties might delay or accelerate elections depending on the arithmetic of Parliament at a given moment. For example, a government anticipating changes in Rajya Sabha membership might time the election to occur after those changes take effect, thus improving its chances. While such tactics may be politically clever, they diminish the dignity of the institution by treating it as a strategic prize rather than a permanent fixture of governance.
For these reasons, it is worth considering whether the Constitution should be amended to provide a clear timeframe for filling the Vice President’s office, just as it does for the Presidency. A fixed limit—perhaps 60 or 90 days—would preserve flexibility for administrative arrangements while preventing undue delay. It would also reinforce the principle that constitutional offices are not to be left vacant beyond necessity.
Ultimately, filling the Vice President’s chair promptly is about more than constitutional compliance. It is about honouring the parliamentary ideal that no link in the chain of governance should be left unattended. The Vice President is the custodian of decorum in the Rajya Sabha, the representative of Parliament in the constitutional hierarchy, and the person who symbolises the continuity of governance at the highest level. Even when the vacancy is short, the principle of completeness matters.
India’s democracy has survived and thrived for over seven decades because its institutions, though occasionally stressed, have been maintained with care. That care is expressed not only in the great spectacles of general elections but in the quiet, regular filling of every office that the Constitution creates. The election on 9 September will likely pass without great drama, producing a winner who will take the oath and assume duties with little disruption. Yet in the long view of democratic health, each such transition is a test—a measure of whether we treat our institutions as living commitments or merely as formalities to be observed when convenient.
The framers of the Constitution did not imagine a future in which “as soon as possible” would be treated casually. They assumed urgency, guided by a shared respect for the offices they had so carefully designed. That respect must be renewed in every generation, and in every instance of succession. The Vice President’s chair in the Rajya Sabha is not an empty formality; it is a keystone in the arch of parliamentary democracy. To leave it vacant without necessity is to weaken the structure. To fill it promptly, with dignity and seriousness, is to affirm that in India’s democracy, every part of the Constitution matters, all the time.