Governance model of UTs needs a reset

INDIA’s constitutional tapestry is woven out of innumerable threads — threads of history and memory, of law and politics, of compromise and conviction — and one of its most peculiar yet enduring strands is the story of Union Territories (UTs), known at the time of constitutional inception as Chief Commissioner’s provinces.

The genesis of this constitutional conundrum traces back to the deliberations of the Constituent Assembly, where four members representing Chief Commissioner’s provinces argued for their rightful place in India’s democratic architecture.

KM Munshi, an active member of the Constituent Assembly, moved a resolution on April 30, 1947, for the formation of the Union Constitution Committee (UCC) and the Provincial Model Constitution Committee.

CM Poonacha (representing Coorg) proposed that a joint sub-committee of three members should specifically address the issues of the Chief Commissioner’s provinces. His proposal was rejected; instead, the UCC assumed charge of the matter.

The July 21, 1947, report of the UCC, recommended maintaining the status quo — that Chief Commissioner’s provinces continue under Central governance in accordance with the Government of India Act of 1935. Yet, the debate was far from settled.

On July 30, 1947, Deshbandhu Gupta (representing Delhi) pressed for a special subcommittee to suggest “suitable constitutional changes to be brought in the administrative system of the Chief Commissioner’s provinces”. His amendment carried the day, and soon after the President of the Constituent Assembly, Rajendra Prasad, appointed a committee chaired by Pattabhi Sitaramayya.

The Sitaramayya Committee’s report, tabled in November 1948, offered a cautious blueprint. It proposed that Delhi, Ajmer-Merwara, Coorg and Panth-Piploda should be designated Lieutenant Governor’s provinces with legislative assemblies and councils of ministers, though subject to overriding Union control. Andaman & Nicobar Islands, strategically sensitive, were to remain under direct Central authority. The report was path-breaking for its time, but tragically, it was never debated. The Drafting Committee quietly sidestepped it.

Thereafter, the Assembly’s discussions took a different turn. On November 9, 1948, MBL Bhargava, himself a member of the Sitaramayya panel, remarked that the curbs on autonomy it envisaged were accepted by representatives of these provinces only as an unwilling concession.

The Drafting Committee, however, found itself perplexed, as Syed Muhammad Saadulla admitted. His defence of the committee’s position articulated the prevailing hesitancy: how could small enclaves with a few lakh people sustain the apparatus of self-government? If Delhi with a population of 20 lakh was made a separate unit, how could Ajmer-Merwara (10 lakh) or Coorg (less than two lakh) be denied the same? Mahavir Tyagi and Mohan Lal Gautam put it more bluntly in August 1949: these territories should remain under Central control temporarily and ultimately be merged with larger states.

Thus, UTs came into being not by bold design but by default, an interim expedient, a “hanging fire” in the words of Poonacha. They were never meant to be permanent fixtures of the Republic. Yet history has its ironies. What the Constitution’s framers considered too small, too fragile or too transitional have evolved today into robust communities with their own identities, issues and aspirations.

The transformation is evident in hard numbers. Chandigarh’s population now exceeds 15 lakh, surpassing Sikkim’s six lakh and equalling Mizoram’s figure. The case of Chandigarh is, however, unique. It was never an original UT or a Chief Commissioner’s province. It was the capital of joint Punjab, built as a replacement for the loss of Lahore. When Punjab got trifurcated and the status of Chandigarh was contested, it became a UT as a consequence of Section 4 of the Punjab Reorganisation Act, 1966, albeit for an interim period pending the settlement of its political question.

The combined population of Dadra & Nagar Haveli and Daman & Diu, according to the 2011 Census, stands at 5.85 lakh — merely 25,000 less than that of Sikkim. The Ministry of Health and Family Welfare’s 2023 estimates indicate that Chandigarh, Dadra & Nagar Haveli and Daman & Diu, and Mizoram each have around 12 lakh residents. Puducherry’s population of 16.46 lakh exceeds both Goa’s and Arunachal Pradesh’s 15 lakh. Delhi and J&K boast populations larger than those of several states.

In terms of population density, the disparities are even more pronounced. Lakshadweep’s density of 2,013 people per square km is twice that of Bihar, India’s most densely populated state at 1,102. Puducherry’s density of 2,598 is about 2.5 times Bihar’s, while Chandigarh’s 9,252 is more than eight times Bihar’s figure. Delhi’s staggering density exceeds 11,000 people per square km.

These statistics demolish the argument that such territories are too small, too thinly populated or too peripheral to deserve democratic self-rule. If states with lesser populations and densities can sustain fully autonomous governments with legislative assemblies and councils of ministers, the continued denial of similar rights to UTs appears increasingly indefensible.

The political case is stronger still. Each UT has incubated its own political culture and policy problems — for instance, Chandigarh’s land regimes, ‘laal dora’ questions, housing board legacies and lease-to-freehold transitions have been hanging fire for two-and-a-half decades.

The solution to Chandigarh’s problems lies in a representative and accountable governance model without prejudice to its status as a UT — since it is the capital of Punjab and Haryana — and the conflicting political claims of both states.

This can be achieved by the people of the city electing a Mayor for a five-year term, who then would function through a Mayor in Council with powers over all subjects except land, police and public order that would be vested in the Administrator. The latter would exercise these powers in statutory consultation with the Mayor in Council. It would be a directly elected, powerful Mayor — as most dynamic megapolises have around the world.

For other UTs, the constitutional operating system remains stubbornly diarchic. In the three UTs with a legislature (Delhi, Puducherry and J&K), the Lieutenant Governor retains a wide berth, and the Union reserves public order, police, land and services. Delhi, as the capital, remains the theatre for tensions between local autonomy and national symbolism. Omar Abdullah’s demand for restoring J&K’s statehood in line with the assurances given by the Union Government in the Supreme Court and Parliament highlight the political unsustainability of the current arrangement.

The five UTs without a legislature (Chandigarh, Andaman & Nicobar Islands, Lakshadweep, Ladakh, and Dadra & Nagar Haveli and Daman & Diu) face even greater democratic deficits, with representation limited to local bodies and administration controlled by external bureaucrats.

Bureaucrats, however competent, cannot substitute for the legitimacy of elected leadership. It is neither humanly possible nor institutionally feasible for Union ministers to micro-manage far-flung territories while stewarding national portfolios. The persistence of local problems reveals the limits of an administrative model that is formally responsive to the Centre but substantively unaccountable to residents.

The question is no longer whether UTs can govern themselves, but why they should be denied the opportunity. Article 239 empowers Parliament to legislate for UT administration, currently exercised through Presidential appointment of Administrators. This constitutional provision offers the framework for democratic transformation. To persist with the present model is to deny them constitutional justice. To empower them is to complete the unfinished work of the Constituent Assembly. The Union must act not as a jealous sovereign but as a generous trustee, confident enough to share power.

The path forward requires constitutional courage and democratic vision. The “hanging fire” of 1949 has burnt long enough. If India’s constitutional tapestry is to remain whole, the UTs must no longer be treated as loose threads. They deserve to be woven securely into the democratic fabric, not merely as administered enclaves, but as autonomous participants in the federal life of the Republic.

Manish Tewari is Lok Sabha MP and former I&B Minister.