A Protest Without Decency: The Ugly Side of the CJP Protest
For weeks, India’s political discourse revolved around the CJP protest. Television studios debated it. Social media amplified it. Political parties weaponised it. Supporters hailed it as a people’s movement, while critics questioned its motives. Like every major protest in a democracy, it generated passionate opinions on both sides of the political spectrum.
But now that the protest has ended, it is time to step away from the slogans and ask a far more important question. What did this movement ultimately leave behind? Beyond the speeches, beyond the placards and beyond the political messaging, what image has been etched into the minds of ordinary Indians?
For many, the answer is deeply unsettling.
It was not merely a protest against a government. It was a protest that, in many instances, abandoned the most basic standards of public decency. Instead of becoming a showcase for persuasive arguments and principled dissent, sections of the movement became synonymous with personal abuse, vulgar slogans and obscene remarks directed not only at Prime Minister Narendra Modi but also at members of his family.
This is where the real conversation begins.
Governments deserve criticism. Prime Ministers deserve scrutiny. Public policy deserves relentless questioning. That is how democracy functions. But when political activism descends into crude personal attacks and celebrates indecency as courage, the issue is no longer about politics. It becomes a reflection of the kind of society we are becoming.
The CJP protest may have ended. The damage it has done to public discourse, however, deserves far greater attention.
The Protest That Forgot Its Purpose
Every successful movement in history has understood one simple truth. The issue must remain bigger than the individuals leading the protest. People remember the freedom struggle because of its ideals. They remember the JP Movement because of its fight against authoritarianism. They remember the Anna Hazare movement because corruption remained at the centre of the national conversation.
The CJP protest, however, often appeared to lose sight of that principle.
Instead of allowing its demands to dominate the headlines, sections of the movement became known for abusive slogans, vulgar language and deeply personal attacks. The conversation shifted away from whatever grievances the protesters wished to highlight. The controversy became the conduct itself.
That is perhaps the greatest failure any protest can suffer. When the method overshadows the message, the movement begins to lose its own credibility. Ordinary citizens stop debating the issue and begin questioning the behaviour of those claiming to represent it.
Criticise Modi All You Want. Leave His Family Out of It.
Political criticism should never have boundaries when it comes to public decisions. Narendra Modi’s policies, speeches, governance and political choices are all legitimate subjects for criticism, satire and even harsh condemnation.
His family is not.
During the course of the protest, videos circulated showing deeply offensive remarks directed at the Prime Minister’s late mother, references to his estranged wife and other sexually explicit comments that had absolutely nothing to do with governance. These were not political arguments. They were not satire. They were not expressions of dissent.
They were simply abusive.
One does not need to support Narendra Modi or the Bharatiya Janata Party to recognise this distinction. Every political leader, regardless of ideology, deserves to have their public record examined relentlessly. Their relatives should not become collateral damage in political battles.
The moment families become acceptable targets, politics ceases to be about accountability and becomes little more than organised character assassination.
Freedom of Expression Is Not a Licence for Indecency
One of the most troubling developments in modern political culture is the growing belief that every form of behaviour can be justified simply by invoking freedom of expression.
It cannot.
Freedom of speech was never intended to become freedom from responsibility. Every civilised society is built not merely on legal rights but also on social norms that preserve mutual respect. The law cannot and should not regulate every offensive remark. Society, however, has every right to reject conduct that drags public discourse into the gutter.
There is a world of difference between saying something because you have the constitutional right to say it and saying something because it elevates democratic debate.
A mature democracy depends as much on self-restraint as it does on constitutional freedoms. Rights without responsibility eventually erode the very culture that makes those rights worth protecting.
When Being Offensive Becomes a Badge of Honour
Social media has transformed political activism in ways few could have imagined.
Today, the loudest voice often receives the most attention. The rudest slogan becomes the most viral clip. The most shocking insult attracts the highest engagement. Outrage has become a currency, and algorithms reward those willing to push the boundaries of decency further than everyone else.
This culture has begun to spill into the streets.
For a section of young activists, being offensive is no longer an unfortunate by-product of anger. It has become a performance. Vulgarity is celebrated as authenticity. Crudeness is mistaken for courage. Personal abuse is packaged as fearless truth-telling.
But shouting louder does not make an argument stronger.
An obscenity may go viral in seconds. It rarely changes anyone’s mind.
The Gen Z Excuse Must End
Perhaps the weakest defence offered for such behaviour is that this is simply how today’s generation communicates.
That argument deserves to be rejected outright.
Every generation has challenged authority. Every generation has questioned those in power. Students have led revolutions, fought dictatorships and transformed societies across the world. None of that required celebrating obscenity as a political virtue.
Being young is not a licence to be uncivil.
Passion is admirable. Conviction is admirable. Even anger has its place in democratic politics. But vulgarity is not bravery. Personal humiliation is not activism. Disrespect is not revolutionary.
The banner of “Gen Z” cannot become a universal excuse every time basic standards of conduct are abandoned.
If anything, the generation that prides itself on demanding accountability from everyone else should be the first to accept accountability for its own behaviour.
The Videos Should Concern Every Parent
One of the more disturbing aspects of the aftermath has been the sheer number of videos circulating online showing young participants arguing with parents, abusing elders or facing criticism from members of their own families over the language and conduct displayed during the protests.
Whether every individual clip tells the complete story is beside the point.
The larger trend should concern us all.
It suggests that the boundaries separating political disagreement from everyday civility are becoming increasingly blurred. Behaviour that would once have been considered unacceptable in a family, a classroom or a workplace is now being defended as political expression.
If political activism begins teaching young people that anyone who disagrees with them deserves abuse, society has a much bigger problem than a single protest.
The damage will not remain confined to politics.
It will enter our homes, schools and workplaces.
Every Movement Is Judged by Its Conduct
History is remarkably unforgiving.
It remembers not only what movements demanded but also how they behaved.
The civil rights movement in America is remembered for moral courage. India’s freedom movement is remembered for sacrifice. Even movements that failed politically often earned lasting respect because of the dignity with which they conducted themselves.
The opposite is equally true.
When abuse becomes the defining memory of a protest, sympathy begins to evaporate. Citizens who may have agreed with the underlying cause become uncomfortable standing alongside behaviour that violates basic standards of decency.
Every protest writes its own legacy.
The CJP protest had an opportunity to be remembered for its arguments.
Instead, sections of it may be remembered for its conduct.
If This Becomes Normal, Every Political Party Will Regret It
Those applauding this style of politics today should think carefully about the precedent they are helping create.
Today the abuse may be directed at Narendra Modi.
Tomorrow it may target another Prime Minister.
The day after, it could be aimed at an opposition leader, a Chief Minister, a judge, a journalist or anyone else who occupies public life.
Political standards, once lowered, rarely discriminate between ideologies.
Those who celebrate personal abuse when it benefits their side invariably discover that the same culture returns with even greater force against them.
A democracy cannot function if every disagreement ends with families becoming targets and vulgarity replacing argument.
Once that door is opened, nobody controls who walks through it next.
Conclusion
The CJP protest is over, but the questions it has raised should not disappear with the dismantling of tents or the fading of hashtags.
India must decide what kind of protest culture it wishes to encourage in the years ahead.
A nation of nearly one and a half billion people cannot sustain a healthy democracy if personal abuse is celebrated as political courage and obscenity is mistaken for fearless activism. The right to criticise those in power is indispensable. It keeps governments accountable, exposes failures and strengthens democratic institutions. But that right carries with it a responsibility to preserve the basic decency that allows a society to disagree without losing its humanity.
No political cause becomes stronger by abusing someone’s mother. No movement gains moral authority by humiliating a leader’s family. No generation earns respect by confusing vulgarity with bravery.
India does not need fewer protesters.
It needs better protesters.
The CJP protest should be remembered not only for the questions it asked of the government, but for the uncomfortable questions it forced the nation to ask of itself. If the future of political activism is one where abuse replaces argument and indecency replaces conviction, then the greatest threat to our democracy will not come from those in power.
It will come from the standards we ourselves chose to abandon.
