Editorial

The Opposition’s no-confidence motion against Lok Sabha Speaker Om Birla, submitted on February 10, 2026, during the ongoing Budget session, marks a sharp escalation in parliamentary tensions. Led by the Congress and backed by allies like the Samajwadi Party and DMK, the notice—signed by around 118 MPs—alleges blatant partisanship in the Speaker’s conduct. Key grievances include repeated denial of speaking opportunities to Leader of Opposition Rahul Gandhi, suspensions of opposition MPs, and failure to act against alleged unsubstantiated remarks by ruling party members.

This rare move under Article 94(c) of the Constitution and Rule 94C of Lok Sabha procedures highlights deep-seated frustrations over the Speaker’s perceived bias. The opposition claims that basic democratic rights—such as raising public issues—are being stifled, turning the House into a site of constant adjournments and ruckus rather than deliberation. Notably, Rahul Gandhi did not sign the notice, possibly to maintain a strategic distance or avoid personalizing the conflict, while TMC has so far refrained from endorsing it, exposing cracks in opposition unity.

From the ruling BJP’s perspective, the motion is an unwarranted attack on constitutional institutions. They argue that the Speaker, as the guardian of parliamentary decorum, has acted impartially amid opposition disruptions. Speaker Birla himself directed the Secretariat to “examine and expedite” the process, signaling procedural seriousness rather than defensiveness.

However, the motion’s success appears remote. In a Lok Sabha where the NDA holds a comfortable majority, removal requires a simple majority vote—unlikely given the numbers. Historically, no-confidence motions against Speakers have been symbolic gestures rather than substantive threats, serving more as political theater to spotlight grievances.

This episode underscores a broader malaise in India’s parliamentary democracy. The Budget session, meant for fiscal accountability and policy debate, has devolved into acrimony, with adjournments dominating proceedings. Both sides share blame: the opposition’s aggressive tactics risk alienating public sympathy, while the government’s handling of dissent—through suspensions and limited debate time—fuels perceptions of majoritarian overreach.

Ultimately, the Speaker’s role demands unwavering neutrality to uphold the House’s dignity. If allegations of bias persist unchecked, they erode trust in Parliament itself. Rather than endless confrontations, what is needed is dialogue to restore decorum—ensuring all voices, especially the opposition’s, are heard within rules. Only then can Parliament fulfill its role as a forum for national discourse, not partisan warfare. The current impasse benefits neither side; it diminishes democracy.

Pradhan Mantri Kaushal Vikas Yojana (PMKVY) was launched with an ambitious promise: to equip India’s youth with employable skills and convert its demographic dividend into economic strength. Over the years, successive phases culminating in PMKVY 4.0 have claimed to train millions. Yet, recent reports highlighting blacklisted and inactive training centres, empty classrooms, and underutilised labs raise uncomfortable questions about the scheme’s credibility, governance, and real impact.

At the heart of the concern lies implementation. Blacklisting of several training centres indicates serious irregularities—ranging from poor infrastructure and fake enrolments to non-compliance with norms. While blacklisting is often presented as proof of robust oversight, its sheer scale suggests deeper systemic flaws. If a significant number of centres had to be barred, it points not just to errant operators but to weak vetting, monitoring, and accountability mechanisms at the time of empanelment.

Equally worrying are visuals and field reports of empty classrooms and idle equipment. Skill training is resource-intensive, involving trainers, tools, and industry-aligned curricula. When centres exist only on paper or function sporadically, public money is effectively locked in unproductive assets. This raises a fundamental question: are targets and numbers being prioritised over outcomes and quality?

The government, on its part, argues that PMKVY 4.0 marks a course correction. It emphasises greater alignment with industry needs, focus on emerging technologies, and stricter monitoring through digital platforms. Officials also point out that skilling millions in a diverse and vast country is inherently complex, and some degree of attrition and course correction is inevitable. These arguments are not without merit. Skill development cannot be reduced to a simple input-output model.

However, effectiveness cannot be measured merely by enrolment or certification figures. The true test lies in employability, wage improvement, and job retention. Independent studies have repeatedly shown mixed outcomes, with many trainees either unemployed or working in low-paying informal jobs unrelated to their training. Claims of large-scale success thus clash with ground realities.

PMKVY’s predicament reflects a larger policy dilemma: centralised schemes implemented through decentralised, often private, actors without sufficiently strong local oversight. Skill development requires close coordination with local industry, realistic assessment of regional job markets, and sustained hand-holding beyond short-term courses.

As India positions itself as a global manufacturing and services hub, skilling remains non-negotiable. But PMKVY must move beyond headline numbers. Transparency in blacklisting, public disclosure of centre-wise performance, third-party evaluations, and stronger role for states and local bodies are essential. Without these reforms, PMKVY risks becoming a symbol not of empowerment, but of missed opportunity.

• SAS Kirmani