On October 6, 2025, two major constitutional debates on opposite sides of the globe captured the attention of legal scholars, political leaders, and citizens alike. In India, the proposed Constitution (One Hundred and Thirtieth Amendment) Bill, 2025 sparked heated discussion over the scope and sincerity of political reform. Meanwhile, in Nigeria, a landmark engagement in Abuja brought together top lawmakers and political parties to chart the next chapter of the country’s constitutional journey. Both events, though worlds apart, centered on a single question: How can constitutions evolve to strengthen democracy, accountability, and inclusion?
In India, the Statement of Objects and Reasons (SOR) attached to the new Constitution Amendment Bill set the tone by declaring, “The elected representatives represent hopes and aspirations of the people of India. It is expected that they rise above political interests and act only in the public interest and for the welfare of people.” However, as reported by The Wire, this idealistic preamble quickly collided with uncomfortable realities. The Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR) revealed that 29% of India’s Members of Legislative Assembly (MLAs)—a staggering 1,205 individuals—face serious criminal cases. Among them, 280 have cases involving murder or attempted murder, 127 face charges related to crimes against women, and 13 stand accused of rape. The numbers are no better among ministers: 40% of central government ministers and nearly half of state ministers have criminal cases pending, with over a quarter facing serious charges.
Despite this grim backdrop, the Bill’s main provision targets only a subset of the political class. It introduces an unprecedented rule: any minister—at the Union or State level—who is arrested and detained for 30 consecutive days on allegations of crimes punishable with five years or more in prison will be automatically removed from office on day 31. This removal can be initiated by the President on the advice of the Prime Minister or Chief Minister, or, if no advice is given, happens automatically. The Wire’s analysis notes, “This is drastic but necessary.” Yet the Bill’s reach stops short: MPs and MLAs who are not ministers remain untouched, even if they face similar allegations. The SOR’s lofty language about “constitutional morality” is applied only to ministers, leaving other elected officials free from such explicit scrutiny.
Critics argue that this selective approach undermines the Bill’s stated purpose. “Should we not expect every elected representative to be clean and above suspicion, particularly since they are said to represent our hopes and aspirations?” the article asks. The Bill’s focus on ministers alone, while ignoring the criminal records of many MPs and MLAs, is seen as a half-measure. Moreover, loopholes abound: a minister could simply resign before the 30-day threshold and return to office once granted bail, creating a game of political “snakes and ladders” that makes a mockery of accountability.
The Bill also sidesteps other constitutional actors whose conduct has drawn criticism. Governors, for example, have withheld Bills passed by State Legislatures for months or even years, sometimes refusing to act on Cabinet recommendations or manipulating legislative majorities. Speakers of State Legislatures have delayed decisions under the anti-defection law, prompting the Supreme Court to intervene. Yet, as The Wire points out, the Bill “does not address the behavior of Governors who withhold Bills passed by State Legislatures for extended periods, nor does it impose consequences if Governors or Speakers do not act on legislative matters within 30 days.” The article argues that if constitutional morality is to be meaningful, it should apply to all key actors, not just a select few.
This debate over selective reform is not unique to India. On the same day, in Abuja, Nigeria’s political leaders gathered for what Deputy Speaker Benjamin Kalu called “the most inclusive and consultative constitutional amendment process in Nigeria’s democratic history.” According to Vanguard, the engagement—convened by the House Committee on Constitution Review—brought together Senate President Godswill Akpabio, Kalu, and leaders of all registered political parties under the Inter-Party Advisory Council (IPAC). Their agenda was ambitious: judicial and electoral reforms, local government autonomy, women’s representation, state policing, and human rights.
Senator Tahir Mongonu, representing Senate President Akpabio, set the tone by describing the Constitution as “a living document that must evolve with the nation’s changing realities.” He called for reforms that would strengthen the independence of the judiciary and the electoral commission, drawing on successful examples from India and South Africa. Akpabio himself stressed the importance of grassroots governance, insisting, “True federalism begins at the village level.” He advocated for the devolution of power and resources to local governments, so that democracy would be tangible for every citizen. On gender representation, Akpabio was unequivocal: “A democracy that sidelines its women weakens itself. Where women rise, nations thrive.”
The proposals on the table reflected these priorities. Deputy Speaker Kalu highlighted guaranteed legislative seats for women, financial autonomy for local governments, and streamlined electoral litigation to ensure that election outcomes truly reflect the people’s will. IPAC National Chairman Yusuf Mamman Dantalle presented a series of bold recommendations: scrapping State Independent Electoral Commissions (SIECs) in favor of a single, empowered Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) to oversee all 774 local government elections; establishing an Independent Appointment Committee to insulate INEC officials from political interference; restoring public funding for political parties to enhance transparency; creating an Electoral Offences Commission to prosecute vote-buying and result falsification; and filling vacant legislative seats through the original political party rather than costly by-elections. Dantalle emphasized the importance of special legislative seats for women, arguing that “empowering women strengthens democracy.”
The contrast between the two countries’ approaches is striking. In India, the debate centers on whether reform can be effective if it is partial and selective, targeting only ministers and leaving other powerful figures untouched. The Wire’s analysis is blunt: “If our elected representatives cannot self-regulate, let’s not waste our time discussing something so sacrosanct as constitutional morality.” In Nigeria, by contrast, the process is framed as a broad, inclusive effort to build a “people’s Constitution” rooted in equality, justice, and the protection of fundamental rights. Both countries, however, face the same underlying challenge: how to ensure that constitutional reform is not just a matter of words and technicalities, but a genuine step toward a more accountable, inclusive, and effective democracy.
As these debates unfold, the world watches closely. The choices made in New Delhi and Abuja will shape not only their own nations’ futures, but also provide lessons for democracies everywhere struggling to balance tradition, reform, and the ever-present demand for justice and accountability.
