From “Cockroaches” to Citizens: Jantar Mantar and the Recovery of Democratic Courage

 

From “Cockroaches” to Citizens: Jantar Mantar and the Recovery of Democratic Courage

SR Darapuri I.P.S.(Retd) 

 Introduction

The events at Jantar Mantar have acquired a significance that extends far beyond the immediate political controversy surrounding them. What initially appeared to be a student protest gradually developed into a larger demonstration of democratic citizenship. Pratap Bhanu Mehta, in his Indian Express article, “‘Cockroaches’ have shown us what it means to be courageous citizens — not subjects,” interprets this episode as an assertion of political courage in an environment in which citizens can increasingly feel powerless before the state.

At the heart of Mehta's argument lies a fundamental distinction between citizens and subjects. A subject is expected to obey authority; a citizen possesses rights, political agency and the legitimate capacity to question those who exercise power. Democracy cannot survive merely through elections. It requires citizens who are prepared to challenge authority when governmental institutions fail to perform their constitutional responsibilities.

The Jantar Mantar protest therefore raises a larger question: What happens to democracy when citizens become afraid to challenge power? Conversely, what happens when ordinary people overcome that fear and reclaim their political voice?

The significance of the Jantar Mantar movement lies precisely in this recovery of democratic courage.

The Politics of the “Cockroach”

The word “cockroach”, used in the political controversy surrounding the protesters, acquired an ironic significance. An attempt to belittle or dehumanise protesters could have reduced them to objects of ridicule. Instead, it became a symbol around which political mobilisation could take place.

The transformation is politically revealing. Those who were allegedly regarded as insignificant demonstrated that they possessed precisely the qualities required of citizens in a democracy: courage, solidarity, political consciousness and the willingness to question authority.

The metaphor thus underwent a reversal. The supposed “cockroaches” became visible political actors. The people who were expected to remain powerless demonstrated that they could occupy public space, articulate grievances and demand accountability.

This is an important feature of democratic politics. Power frequently attempts to portray dissenters as unreasonable, disruptive or illegitimate. But democracy depends upon the recognition that dissent is not outside democratic politics; dissent is part of democratic politics.

Citizens versus Subjects

The most important conceptual distinction in Mehta's argument is between the citizen and the subject.

A subject exists under authority. A citizen exists within a constitutional order that recognises rights and political agency. The distinction is not merely semantic. It concerns the fundamental relationship between the individual and the state.

In an authoritarian political culture, citizens are gradually transformed into subjects. They are encouraged to obey rather than question, to receive rather than participate, and to accept governmental decisions rather than demand accountability.

A constitutional democracy requires the opposite relationship.

The citizen is not merely a beneficiary of governmental schemes or a voter who appears once every few years at an election. The citizen is a continuing participant in public life. The citizen has the right to ask:

• Why was a particular decision taken?
• Who is responsible for governmental failure?
• Are public institutions functioning independently?
• Are citizens' rights being respected?
• Is the police exercising power lawfully?
• Is the government accountable to the people?

The Jantar Mantar protesters, in Mehta's interpretation, demonstrated this active conception of citizenship.

The Recovery of Political Courage

The deepest significance of the movement lies in the recovery of political courage.

Fear is one of the most effective mechanisms through which political power operates. A government does not necessarily have to repress every critic. It can create an environment in which people begin to censor themselves. When citizens fear consequences for speaking, protesting or questioning authority, democratic institutions may continue to exist formally while democratic life becomes progressively weaker.

Political courage breaks this psychological mechanism.

The significance of the protesters was therefore not simply that they opposed a particular minister or policy. Their presence demonstrated that citizens could still occupy public space and publicly challenge governmental authority.

This is why peaceful protest is so important to democracy. Protest reminds governments that political power is temporary and conditional. The state possesses coercive authority, but its legitimacy ultimately depends upon constitutional limits and democratic consent.

Ministerial Accountability

The resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan assumes particular importance in this context.

In a parliamentary democracy, ministers are not merely political representatives. They occupy constitutional offices carrying public responsibility. The principle of ministerial accountability requires that political officeholders answer for the functioning of their departments and for serious failures occurring within their sphere of responsibility.

The resignation therefore has significance beyond the fate of an individual minister. It raises the question of whether accountability remains a meaningful principle of Indian democratic governance.

When ministers and governments are unable or unwilling to accept responsibility, democratic institutions become weaker. Conversely, when political authority is compelled to acknowledge responsibility, citizens receive an important message: public office entails public accountability.

The Jantar Mantar episode therefore represents a contest not merely over policy but over the meaning of political responsibility.

Higher Education and Institutional Failure

The protest also draws attention to deeper problems within India's higher education system.

Students experience the state not as an abstract constitutional entity but through universities, examinations, recruitment systems, bureaucratic procedures and regulatory institutions. When these systems fail, students experience the consequences directly.

Issues concerning examinations, institutional autonomy, administrative centralisation, corruption, ideological intervention and inadequate public investment can therefore become political questions.

The important point is that such grievances cannot always be dismissed as isolated administrative complaints. They may reflect deeper structural weaknesses in the relationship between citizens and public institutions.

Universities, in particular, should be spaces where questioning authority is encouraged rather than punished. Education should cultivate critical citizens capable of thinking independently. If educational institutions instead cultivate fear and conformity, democracy suffers beyond the campus.

When Institutions Fail, Citizens Take to the Streets

One of the most important implications of the Jantar Mantar episode is the relationship between institutional democracy and street democracy.

In a healthy democracy, citizens should have multiple channels through which grievances can be addressed: Parliament, courts, universities, regulatory bodies, political parties, civil society organisations, the media and administrative institutions.

When these mechanisms work effectively, public protest becomes one among many avenues of democratic participation.

But when institutional channels become inaccessible, unresponsive or distrusted, citizens increasingly turn to the street.

This should not automatically be interpreted as a failure of democracy. Peaceful public protest may instead be evidence that citizens are attempting to restore democratic accountability.

The street becomes a democratic forum when formal institutions cease to adequately represent public grievances.

Jantar Mantar has historically occupied precisely such a symbolic position in India's democratic imagination. It represents the right of citizens to make their grievances publicly visible.

The Police and the Right to Dissent

The role of the police in such situations is therefore crucial.

In a constitutional democracy, the police are not instruments for protecting governments from political criticism. Their responsibility is to maintain public order while simultaneously protecting citizens' fundamental rights.

The right to peaceful assembly and freedom of expression are central democratic freedoms. Restrictions may sometimes be necessary for legitimate reasons of public order, but the exercise of police power must remain lawful, necessary and proportionate.

The crucial question is therefore not whether the government agrees with protesters. The question is whether protesters are being treated as citizens with constitutional rights.

If peaceful dissent is met with unnecessary force, intimidation or arbitrary restrictions, the distinction between citizen and subject becomes increasingly blurred.

This makes the events surrounding Jantar Mantar part of a much larger debate about the nature of police power in a constitutional democracy.

An Ambedkarite Interpretation

The significance of Mehta's argument becomes even deeper when examined through the ideas of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar.

For Ambedkar, democracy was not simply a form of government. It was fundamentally a mode of associated living based upon liberty, equality and fraternity. Constitutional government could not function merely through institutions and legal texts. It required a democratic social consciousness.

Ambedkar's emphasis on constitutional morality is particularly relevant.

Constitutional morality requires citizens and institutions alike to respect the limitations imposed by the Constitution. Government officials cannot treat governmental power as personal authority. The police cannot treat citizens as subjects. Ministers cannot regard public office as unrestricted political power. Citizens, meanwhile, must recognise the rights of others even when they disagree with them.

From an Ambedkarite perspective, therefore, the Jantar Mantar protest can be understood as an assertion of constitutional citizenship.

The protesters were not merely demanding a particular administrative outcome. They were asserting a broader principle:

The people are not subjects of those who temporarily occupy governmental office. Those who govern are accountable to the constitutional order and ultimately to the people.

Democracy Requires Fraternity

There is another Ambedkarite dimension that deserves attention: fraternity.

Political democracy cannot survive indefinitely where citizens are divided into rulers and ruled, superior and inferior, insiders and outsiders. Fraternity requires recognition of the equal dignity of fellow citizens.

The language used against protesters becomes significant in this context. Describing citizens in degrading or dehumanising terms undermines the principle of equal civic dignity.

Democracy requires disagreement without dehumanisation.

Political opponents may be criticised, challenged and defeated electorally, but they cannot legitimately be stripped of their dignity as citizens.

The transformation of the “cockroach” metaphor into a symbol of courage therefore contains a larger democratic lesson: those who are politically marginalised can nevertheless become central actors in the defence of democratic values.

The Limits of a Single Victory

At the same time, the Jantar Mantar episode should not be romanticised.

A ministerial resignation, a successful protest or a temporary retreat by the government does not automatically restore democratic institutions. The deeper problems that generated the protest may remain.

The real test of democracy lies in whether institutions subsequently become more accountable, transparent and responsive.

There is also a danger that governments may learn to absorb individual protests without addressing their structural causes. A democratic movement therefore has to move beyond immediate victories and ask whether the institutional system itself is changing.

The question is not simply: “Did the protesters win?”

The larger question is: “Did the institutions become more democratic because citizens protested?”

Reclaiming the Republic

The Jantar Mantar movement can consequently be understood as part of a broader struggle to reclaim the Republic.

The Constitution begins with the words “We, the People of India.” Sovereignty in a constitutional democracy does not belong personally to the government of the day. Governments exercise delegated authority within constitutional limits.

This distinction is fundamental.

Elections give governments the authority to govern, but they do not give governments unlimited authority. Democratic legitimacy is continuously tested through accountability, transparency, judicial review, free expression, public criticism and citizen participation.

The citizen therefore remains politically relevant between elections.

This is precisely why public protest matters.

When citizens gather peacefully to challenge governmental authority, they are not necessarily weakening the Republic. They may be reminding the Republic of its constitutional foundations.

Conclusion

Pratap Bhanu Mehta's interpretation of the Jantar Mantar episode provides an important way of understanding contemporary democratic politics. The central significance of the movement lies not merely in the controversy over a minister, a policy or a particular institutional failure. Its deeper significance lies in the emergence of citizens who refused to remain silent.

The transformation from “cockroaches” to courageous citizens symbolises a larger democratic reversal. Those who were expected to be insignificant demonstrated political agency. Those who might have remained fearful entered public space. Those who could have accepted governmental authority demanded accountability instead.

The distinction between citizen and subject is therefore the central lesson.

A subject asks what the ruler permits.

A citizen asks what the Constitution guarantees.

A subject fears authority.

A citizen holds authority accountable.

A subject obeys.

A citizen participates.

The future of Indian democracy will depend substantially upon which of these two political identities becomes dominant.

In this sense, Jantar Mantar represents more than a protest. It represents a struggle over the meaning of citizenship itself. Its most enduring contribution may be the reminder that democracy requires not merely governments that claim legitimacy, but citizens courageous enough to demand that those governments live up to the Constitution.

And in an Ambedkarite understanding of the Republic, such courage is not rebellion against democracy. It is one of the conditions of democracy.

Gen Z’s Revolt and the Crisis of the Post-Liberalisation Social Contract

Gen Z’s Revolt and the Crisis of the Post-Liberalisation Social Contract 

SR Darapuri I.P.S.(Retd) 

A Critical Reading of Pratap Bhanu Mehta’s “Gen Z’s Parents Have to Answer for Their Politics Which Created This Crisis”

 

 

Introduction 

The recent mobilisation of Generation Z has acquired a significance that goes well beyond the immediate grievances of students concerning examinations, employment, education and institutional failures. In his article, “Gen Z’s parents have to answer for their politics which created this crisis,” published in The Indian Express on 6 August 2026, Pratap Bhanu Mehta offers a provocative interpretation of this phenomenon. He argues that the anger of young people cannot be understood merely as opposition to a particular government or political leader. Rather, it represents a deeper revolt against a political, economic and institutional order that the previous generation helped create and legitimise. 

The argument is particularly important because it shifts the focus from the behaviour of the protesting generation to the historical responsibility of the preceding generation. Gen Z is confronting a world in which the promises made by post-liberalisation India—education, merit, professional advancement, employment and individual mobility—have increasingly lost their credibility. The institutions that were expected to guarantee these opportunities have themselves become objects of distrust. 

The significance of this argument becomes even greater when examined through the lens of democracy, constitutional morality and Ambedkarite political thought. The present crisis is not merely one of youth unemployment or examination irregularities. It is a crisis of the relationship between citizens and institutions, between individual aspiration and collective responsibility, and between constitutional democracy and the politics of accommodation. 

I. From Political Disillusionment to Institutional Revolt 

The first important insight of Mehta's argument is that contemporary student protests should not be dismissed as ordinary political agitation.

The immediate demands may appear modest: fair examinations, employment opportunities, better education, institutional accountability and justice. Yet beneath these demands lies a much more fundamental question:

Can citizens continue to trust institutions that repeatedly fail to deliver what they promise? 

This is what gives the protests their wider political significance.

Gen Z has grown up in an India that repeatedly promised that education and merit would provide the route to social advancement. Students were encouraged to study hard, acquire qualifications, compete in examinations and enter professional occupations. The implicit social contract was straightforward:

education would lead to merit; merit would lead to employment; employment would lead to dignity and security. 

But that contract has increasingly broken down.

Competitive examinations have become intensely uncertain. Employment opportunities have not kept pace with aspirations. Professional careers have become increasingly precarious. Higher education is often expensive and unequal. Institutions that were expected to operate according to transparent rules are frequently perceived as vulnerable to political influence, bureaucratic arbitrariness or administrative incompetence.

Consequently, the anger of young people is not simply about one examination or one administrative decision. It is an expression of accumulated institutional distrust. 

II. The Failure of the Post-Liberalisation Promise

One of the most powerful aspects of Mehta's argument is his criticism of the political assumptions of the post-liberalisation generation.

Economic liberalisation transformed Indian society. It expanded consumer opportunities, created new professional sectors and generated a new aspirational middle class. The dominant message was that individual advancement was possible through education, skill, competition and professional achievement.

The political imagination gradually shifted from collective transformation to individual mobility. 

Instead of asking how society could be transformed, individuals were increasingly encouraged to ask:

How can I succeed within the existing system?

This was the age of professionalisation, coaching institutions, technical education, management training and competitive examinations. The individual was expected to become competitive enough to survive the market and bureaucracy. 

But this model contained a fundamental weakness. It assumed that institutions themselves would remain sufficiently fair, competent and autonomous.

When institutions began to deteriorate, individual merit could no longer guarantee individual success.

A brilliant student can still fail because an examination system is dysfunctional. A qualified graduate can remain unemployed because sufficient jobs do not exist. A professional can find that institutional advancement depends upon networks and patronage rather than competence.

Thus, the crisis confronting Gen Z is partly the consequence of the collapse of the meritocratic promise. 

III. The Politics of Accommodation 

Mehta's most provocative charge is directed towards the parents' generation.

According to this argument, the previous generation increasingly embraced a politics of accommodation. Rather than collectively challenging the deterioration of institutions, people learned to navigate them individually.

If an institution was corrupt, one learned how to survive within it.

If employment was scarce, one tried to secure an individual position.

If public institutions deteriorated, one moved towards private alternatives.

If politics became increasingly authoritarian, one avoided confrontation.

If professional institutions lost autonomy, individuals concentrated on protecting their careers.

This produced a culture in which individual adjustment replaced collective resistance. 

The consequences have been profound. A society may continue to function when individuals adapt to institutional weaknesses. But the institutions themselves gradually become weaker because there is insufficient collective pressure to reform them.

Careerism can therefore become politically conservative even when the individuals involved consider themselves liberal or progressive.

The tragedy is that a generation may achieve personal success while simultaneously presiding over the deterioration of the institutions on which the next generation depends. 

IV. Gen Z and the Rejection of Fear 

A striking feature of the present generation is its apparent refusal to accept fear as a normal condition of political life.

Young people are increasingly unwilling to accept the proposition that political authority should simply be obeyed, that institutional injustice should be tolerated, or that citizens should remain silent because confrontation may damage their careers. 

This is particularly significant in a democracy.

Democracy is not simply the periodic act of voting. It requires citizens who are capable of questioning authority.

A society in which citizens are permanently afraid of institutions cannot sustain meaningful democracy, even if elections continue to be held.

The student protest therefore represents a psychological transformation as much as a political one.

The young are effectively saying:

We were told to work hard and compete fairly. If the rules themselves are unfair, why should we remain silent?

This question has implications far beyond student politics. 

V. The Crisis of Institutions 

At the heart of the present crisis lies the deterioration of institutional credibility.

Universities, examination bodies, public-service commissions, courts, regulatory institutions, news organisations, civil services and professional bodies perform different functions, but they share one fundamental responsibility: they must maintain standards independently of arbitrary political or private interests.

When these institutions become compromised, citizens lose faith not only in individual institutions but in the system as a whole. 

The problem is particularly serious for young people because they encounter institutions at precisely the moment when their future depends upon them.

A student preparing for years for a competitive examination is not merely preparing for a test. That examination represents a promise that the state will evaluate citizens according to publicly known and reasonably fair rules.

When that promise is broken, the damage is psychological as well as material.

It communicates that effort may not necessarily produce justice.

That is a dangerous message for any democracy. 

VI. The Parents' Generation and Historical Responsibility 

The title of Mehta's article deliberately places responsibility on the parents.

This does not mean that every parent individually created the present crisis. Rather, it is a critique of a broader political generation.

The previous generation benefited from institutions that were stronger in important respects, while simultaneously allowing many of those institutions to weaken.

It accepted compromises in the name of pragmatism.

It accepted political accommodation in the name of stability.

It accepted professional compromise in the name of career advancement.

It accepted institutional decline because individuals could still find ways to survive. 

But what was manageable for one generation became existential for the next.

This is why the Gen Z revolt can be interpreted as a generational indictment.

Young people are asking their parents:

What kind of society have you left us?

Why have institutions become so unreliable?

Why is education no longer a secure route to employment?

Why have public institutions lost credibility?

Why should we accept as normal what you tolerated as accommodation?

These are not merely economic questions. They are questions of political morality. 

VII. An Ambedkarite Interpretation 

The argument becomes especially compelling when viewed through the intellectual framework of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar.

For Ambedkar, democracy was not merely a constitutional mechanism. It was fundamentally a way of life based upon liberty, equality and fraternity.

Institutions could not remain democratic merely because they possessed democratic names. Their functioning had to reflect constitutional values.

This is the significance of constitutional morality. 

Constitutional morality requires citizens and institutions to respect the principles underlying the Constitution even when doing so is inconvenient for those in power.

From an Ambedkarite perspective, therefore, the Gen Z crisis is not simply a crisis of employment or examinations. It is a crisis of institutional justice.

If opportunities are formally open but practically inaccessible, equality becomes hollow.

If institutions operate according to arbitrary power rather than established rules, the rule of law becomes fragile.

If citizens cannot question authority without fear, liberty becomes diminished.

If social groups retreat into individual survival rather than collective responsibility, fraternity becomes weakened. 

The Gen Z revolt can consequently be interpreted as a demand to restore the substantive meaning of democracy. 

VIII. From Individual Mobility to Collective Action 

Perhaps the most important political lesson emerging from the crisis is that individual mobility cannot substitute for institutional reform.

A society cannot solve structural problems simply by encouraging individuals to become more competitive.

If millions compete for a tiny number of jobs, the solution cannot merely be to make individuals more skilled competitors.

If examination systems are unreliable, the solution cannot simply be to make students study harder.

If public institutions are politically compromised, the solution cannot be individual avoidance. 

Structural problems require structural responses.

This is precisely where collective political action becomes important.

The post-liberalisation model encouraged people to think of themselves primarily as individuals seeking advancement. The Gen Z protests may mark a return to the idea that individual futures depend upon collective institutions.

A student protesting an examination irregularity is therefore not merely defending personal interests. They may also be defending the principle that public institutions must operate fairly. 

IX. The Connection with Contemporary Democratic Protest 

This perspective also helps illuminate contemporary protests in places such as Jantar Mantar.

The significance of such protests cannot be reduced to the personalities of political leaders or to the immediate demands of demonstrators. They raise broader questions concerning the right to dissent, freedom of assembly, police accountability and the constitutional relationship between citizens and the state.

When citizens gather peacefully to challenge governmental or institutional conduct, the democratic response should not be to regard dissent as an inconvenience. 

The state must recognise dissent as an essential component of democratic life.

An institution that cannot tolerate criticism becomes increasingly insulated from accountability. And an insulated institution eventually risks becoming unresponsive to the people whom it is supposed to serve.

The challenge, therefore, is not merely to change governments but to restore institutional accountability. 

X. The Limits of Political Change 

Mehta's argument also contains an important warning against reducing the entire crisis to one political party or government.

Changing political leadership may be necessary in particular circumstances, but it cannot by itself repair institutions.

The deeper problem is the gradual erosion of institutional autonomy and professional ethics.

Universities need academic autonomy.

Civil servants need professional independence.

Examination bodies need credibility.

Courts need institutional integrity.

Regulatory bodies need independence.

The media needs editorial autonomy.

Professional organisations need ethical standards. 

Without these institutional safeguards, democracy becomes increasingly dependent upon the goodwill of those temporarily occupying positions of power.

That is dangerous because democracy requires institutions that can constrain power, not merely institutions that exercise power. 

XI. The Meaning of the Gen Z Revolt 

The Gen Z revolt therefore represents something larger than generational conflict.

It is a confrontation between two political philosophies.

The first says:

Adapt to the system, secure your career and protect your individual interests.

The second says:

If the system is unjust or dysfunctional, change the system.

The first philosophy produced stability for some but also facilitated institutional decline.

The second is more disruptive, but it contains the possibility of democratic renewal. 

This is why the protests should not automatically be dismissed as youthful impatience or political manipulation.

They may instead represent the emergence of a new political consciousness—one that is unwilling to accept the inherited boundaries of accommodation. 

XII. Towards a Democratic Renewal 

The challenge now is to convert anger into constructive democratic politics.

Protest by itself cannot rebuild institutions. It must eventually generate a programme for institutional reform.

Such a programme could include:

1.     Transparent and accountable examination systems.

2.     Greater institutional autonomy for universities and public bodies.

3.     Protection of professional standards from political interference.

4.     Expansion of dignified employment opportunities.

5.     Strengthening of public education.

6.     Greater transparency in recruitment and public appointments.

7.     Protection of peaceful assembly and dissent.

8.     Independent mechanisms for accountability of public authorities.

9.     Reassertion of constitutional morality in public administration.

10. A renewed emphasis on equality, liberty and fraternity..  

Most importantly, young people must not be forced to choose between career and citizenship.

A healthy democracy should allow citizens to pursue professional success while also participating in collective efforts to improve society. 

Conclusion: A Generation Asking for Its Future Back 

The fundamental significance of the Gen Z protests lies in the question they place before the previous generation:

What kind of democracy, economy and institutional order are we leaving behind for those who come after us?

The young are not necessarily demanding the destruction of the existing order. In many cases, they are demanding that its promises be taken seriously.

They were promised education, but demand fair educational institutions.

They were promised meritocracy, but demand fair examinations.

They were promised employment, but demand meaningful opportunities.

They were promised democracy, but demand the right to dissent.

They were promised constitutional equality, but demand institutions that actually embody it. 

The irony is that the generation now protesting inherited a system in which individual accommodation was often presented as the safest path to success. But Gen Z increasingly appears unwilling to accept that bargain.

Its message is potentially profound:

We do not want merely to learn how to survive dysfunctional institutions; we want institutions worthy of our trust. 

Seen through an Ambedkarite lens, this is not simply a generational revolt. It is a struggle over the meaning of democracy itself. Ambedkar warned that political democracy could not survive indefinitely without social and economic democracy. The contemporary crisis suggests another dimension of that warning: constitutional democracy cannot survive if citizens lose faith in the institutions through which constitutional values are supposed to be realised. 

The responsibility, therefore, belongs not only to the young protesters or to the government of the day. It belongs to an entire political generation.

The real challenge is to transform anger into democratic reconstruction, protest into institutional reform, and generational conflict into a renewed social contract. 

The Gen Z revolt may consequently prove to be less a rebellion against the past than a demand for the right to shape India's democratic future.