The Republic of Mauritius Takes Another Look at Its Constitution
As Mauritius opens its most significant constitutional review in decades, the country faces a familiar question: how can a constitution built on stability evolve without losing democratic legitimacy? Neel Raamandarsingh Purmah examines the opportunities and risks before the Constitutional Review Commission, arguing that meaningful reform will depend not only on what changes, but on who gets to shape it.
The enactment of the Constitutional Review Commission Act in June 2026 has finally opened the door to what could be Mauritius’ most wide-ranging constitutional review in decades. The Constitutional Review Commission, which first met on 11 August 2026, is mandated to make recommendations on updating the Constitution’s Bill of Rights, redrawing the boundaries of power, and revisiting its rules on democratic participation. Its prospects are real: the current Government won 60 of the 62 directly elected seats in the 2024 elections—more than the required majority to amend the Constitution. Yet, to be legitimate, this reform exercise will require the participation of the whole nation, rather than reliance on parliamentary arithmetic alone.
A bridge that arrived late
The Constitution of Mauritius, adopted in 1968 upon the country’s independence from Britain, has enabled remarkable democratic work. It has survived political alternation, accommodated the transition to a republic in 1992 and supplied courts with tools of constitutional adjudication. This has contributed to ensuring that Mauritius remains one of the more durable electoral democracies on the continent. However, stability should not be mistaken for timelessness: a constitution can be sturdy and still grow stale.
To ensure that the Constitution can still address the challenges of today and the future, the January 2025 Government Programme 2025–2029, A Bridge to the Future, promised the establishment of a Constitutional Review Commission within six months. That timeframe, however, was not met. Former Chief Justice Bernard Sik Yuen was announced as chair in December 2025, but the National Assembly only enacted the governing statute in June 2026. In July, the Cabinet announced the 11-member Commission, including 5 women, under a different chair, former Judge Vinod Boolell, with former Judge Ah Foon Chui Yew Cheong as vice-chair. The other members include senior academics, lawyers and civic voices.
Delay should not automatically be treated as a defect: constitutional haste can lead to constitutional waste. Still, the sequence matters in a country whose reform archive is already crowded with unfinished blueprints, particularly on electoral reform. During its inaugural meeting on 11 August, the Commission discussed how citizens would participate in the process and committed to transparency. On 28 August 2026, it released an invitation for public written submissions on constitutional reform. The Constitutional Review Commission Act itself fixes no deadline, but the Prime Minister indicated that he would like the reform completed by March 2028, marking Mauritius’ sixty years of independence.
The Act has genuine strengths. It establishes the Commission as an independent body, obliges public authorities to cooperate, and prescribes four stages for the review process: preliminary consultation, research, deliberation, and the preparation of a final report containing draft amendments and explanatory memoranda. It also allows the issuance of interim reports. These are useful foundations, but they are not the finished building.
Twenty headings, no easy answers
The Act places twenty reform headings on the Commission’s desk. They span environmental, technological, health, education, nature and other socio-economic rights; stronger privacy and disability protection; freedom of information; public-interest litigation and class actions; a Court of Appeal and a Constitutional Division within the Supreme Court; more independent appointment processes; fixed intervals for local elections; safeguards for the Director of Public Prosecutions; recall and anti-defection rules; political finance integrity; and stronger electoral institutions. The Commission is also mandated to make recommendations on an Electoral College for the presidency. The President is currently elected by a parliamentary majority vote following a motion by the Prime Minister, and the introduction of an Electoral College could therefore alter the political weight of an office designed to stand above day-to-day partisanship.
Breadth is undeniably the Commission’s strength, but it is also its first danger. Each item contains a constitutional argument of its own. A right to health may be inspiring on paper but hollow without duties, standing and remedies. Conversely, an unrestricted judicial power to direct resource allocation may pull courts into choices for which only elected institutions remain accountable. Wisely, the Act asks whether new rights should be substantive or procedural. Yet the answer cannot be a semantic smokescreen: Mauritians must know what a right will let them demand, from whom and with what remedy.
The electoral file exposes a second danger. The Government Programme expressly promised proportional representation, more women in Parliament and the removal of the mandatory communal identity declaration for the purposes of Mauritius’ Best Loser System—an electoral mechanism which allows up to eight unsuccessful general elections candidates to become members of the National Assembly to ensure fairer representation of the nation’s different communities. The Act’s twenty headings do not expressly mention electoral reform, be it proportional representation or gender balance. These sit, at most, within “electoral integrity” or the catch-all category of “associated matters”. Meanwhile, a separate electoral reform consultation closed earlier in the year but appears not to have gained traction, with no substantive updates or indications of further progress since.
It makes little sense to run constitutional and electoral reforms on parallel tracks. Instead, as I argued previously, the Commission should have an express mandate to make recommendations on the electoral system, given that it is not merely a political instrument but a constitutional mechanism that determines representation, legitimacy, the composition of Parliament, and ultimately the exercise of sovereign power. With respect to the Best Loser System, the community declaration is the operational key, while proportional representation is one possible replacement for the representational safeguard the system provides. However, pulling out one pin before agreeing on the machine risks under-representing minorities or preserving communal categories by another name. Mauritius has made several attempts to reform its electoral system through commissions and legislative proposals, yet none has resulted in enacted reform. Another false start would not merely waste time; it would also erode public trust in the process.
The numbers are there, but consensus is not
In his second-reading speech, the Prime Minister promised wide engagement with experts, civil society, political parties and citizens. Lawyers and civic commentators have broadly welcomed modernisation while insisting on a clear public mandate and plural process. But there are concerns. For instance, the Act gives the President power to appoint the members of the Commission without requiring consultation with the opposition or civil society.
With respect to eventual constitutional reform, Section 47 of the Constitution lays out different procedures for amending entrenched provisions. Changes to the Bill of Rights, the presidency, electoral architecture and the judiciary generally require the support of three-quarters of all Assembly members; other provisions usually require two-thirds. The most demanding procedure applies to Sections 1 and 57(2): altering Section 1, which declares Mauritius a sovereign democratic state, or Section 57(2), on the five-year constitutional term of the National Assembly, requires prior approval by three-quarters of the electorate through a referendum and unanimous support in the National Assembly. There is however no suggestion that either provision is currently considered for amendment.
The areas presently contemplated for review can largely be amended by a supermajority parliamentary vote. This adds impetus to the demand for meaningful public ownership of the reform because in the absence of a referendum, the consultation process may constitute the principal way for citizens to shape reforms that can ultimately alter important features of the Constitution. While the 2024 landslide gives the Government more than enough votes to pass most reforms, former Vice Prime Minister Paul Bérenger’s resignation in March 2026 exposed cracks in the governing alliance. The current Government still retains a supermajority that can unlock Section 47, but it cannot by itself secure public confidence and trust.
From audience to actors of change
The Act provides that citizens shall be invited to make written submissions and that the Commission may also hold public sittings. That discretion should be exercised generously: a written-only process will privilege lawyers, parties and organisations already fluent in the language of power. It would turn everyone else into spectators when they should be actors. Yet, it appears that the Commission has chosen the path of least resistance, adhering closely to the process envisaged by the Act by beginning, as a first step, with a call for submissions.
It should be highlighted that the debate among other stakeholders already suggests both a broad appetite for reform and unease about how it will be carried out. The Prime Minister wants a wide and consultative process that “must not be the monopoly of politicians alone”. Civil society and political commentators have largely supported reform in principle, but questioned the absence of a firm timetable and called for public hearings, interim reporting and greater transparency. They have also stressed that the legitimacy of the Commission will ultimately depend on the openness of its methods. Similar concerns emerged from other actors such as the State and Other Employees Federation arguing for stronger representation of workers and civil society.
The substantive issues being raised are also wide-ranging. They include the de-ethnicization of the electoral system, the regulation of political-party financing, stronger protection for women and persons with disabilities, a possible electoral college for the presidency and the introduction of anti-defection rules. Some of these issues have also been raised at the international level. For instance, the UN Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities has called for an express constitutional prohibition of disability discrimination and for the active involvement of persons with disabilities in public decision-making, while the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination has urged countrywide consultation on community classification. It can therefore be safely assumed that the legitimacy of constitutional reform will depend not only on what is eventually proposed, but also on whether those most directly affected have had a genuine opportunity to shape it.
Four key recommendations could pave the way to a more inclusive consultative process. First, the Commission should promptly publish its rules, stages, workplan and target date, then release short option papers on rights, institutions, elections and courts. These should be available in plain English, French and Kreol, with easy-read, audio and sign-language formats. Civic education must come before, not merely alongside, requests for views.
Second, participation must extend beyond the capital, Port Louis. Hearings should reach every constituency, Rodrigues and the outer islands, with dedicated spaces for persons with disabilities, women, young people, trade unions, businesses, journalists, environmental groups, faith and cultural communities, Chagossians and the diaspora.
Third, transparency needs a paper trail. Subject to privacy and genuine confidentiality, the Commission should publish submissions, hearing transcripts, expert commissions, regular progress notes and an interim report. Its final report should include a response matrix explaining which recurring proposals were accepted, modified or rejected.
Fourth, the electoral and constitutional tracks must merge before drafting hardens. Existing submissions should be transmitted to the Commission, tested against rights and representation, and exposed to public scrutiny. The Government should therefore commit in advance to publishing the report, tabling it in the National Assembly and responding within a fixed period. For foundational changes that do not legally require a referendum, it should still explain what form of explicit public validation will be sought.
A bridge people can cross
The Commission has expertise, statutory independence, an expansive mandate and a government with enough parliamentary seats to act. Yet its hazards are equally visible: delay, executive shadow, fragmented reform tracks, non-inclusive consultation by experts and rights that may shine in the text but fade in daily life.
A bridge to the future is useful only if people can cross it. If the Commission opens its doors, explains the choices, shows its reasoning and binds reform to an implementation timetable, Mauritius may convert an electoral promise into a durable constitutional pact. If not, its report risks becoming another elegantly bound resident of a government shelf. Once the consultation draws to a close, the attention will shift from what the Commission has heard to what it recommends, and ultimately to whether the Government is willing to translate those recommendations into concrete constitutional change.
Ultimately, Mauritius does not need a constitution with a new cover and old habits. It needs a constitutional culture in which power is restrained, rights are lived and citizens are treated as actors of change. The Commission is reviewing the Constitution; the public, in turn, will be reviewing the Commission. Beyond outcomes on substantive issues, therefore, the process itself will set an important precedent.
About the Author
Neel Raamandarsingh Purmah is a Lecturer in Law at Middlesex University Mauritius. His work focuses on international human rights law, disability rights and constitutional governance. He is the author of the Mauritius chapter in The Cambridge Handbook of the Right to Freedom of Thought (Cambridge University Press 2025), and the book chapter ‘The Role of Ethnicity in Shaping Coalition Politics in Mauritius’ in Constitutionalisation of Political Parties and the State of Democracy in Sub-Saharan Africa (Nomos Baden 2025).
Suggested Citation
Neel Raamandarsingh Purmah, ‘The Republic of Mauritius Takes Another Look at Its Constitution', ConstitutionNet, International IDEA, 8 September 2026, https://constitutionnet.org/news/voices/republic-mauritius-takes-another-look-its-constitution
Further Reading
- Updates on constitutional developments in Mauritius.
- International IDEA, Constitution Building Primers.