The Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) is useful as a demonstration of public anger and an impetus for the government to do better in the administration of standardized tests, but its current form will not permit it to fulfill any more meaningful role. The party’s rhetoric is designed for a social media movement, and their website explicitly defines them as “a party for the young people who keep getting called lazy, chronically online, and — most recently — cockroaches”; this social media orientation bars them from introducing the depth and nuance necessary in more productive political movements, since they’re marketing themselves on Twitter and Instagram to an audience that likes sound bites and short videos more than complex, long-form communication. This is most clearly reflected in their five-point manifesto. The sentiment behind each of their goals is laudable, but the reductive language and refusal to address more divisive issues is problematic and reflects the broader problem of trying to harness youth anger rather than well-thought-out political ideas. I will review the points in their manifesto one by one and explain my thoughts.
If the CJP comes in power, no Chief Justice shall be granted a Rajya Sabha seat as a post-retirement reward.
The first point about sinecures for retired Chief Justices leverages a public perception of corruption within the institutions of democracy, especially the judicial system, and the Indian public’s instinctive outrage towards any corruption scandal; however, the CJP’s manifesto is only an effective social media campaign playing off that anger, and fails to propose any meaningful path forward. The Chief Justice of India is only one part of the judicial system that has historically suffered from corruption and conflict of interests, and a proper overhaul of the system would seek to reform all the other broken components: executive overreach in judicial matters, the excessive centralization of power within the Supreme Court rather than sharing power with the High Courts, politically motivated transfers of judges, etc. The CJP’s manifesto neglects all of these points and reduces the issue of judicial corruption to the whopping number of two Chief Justices who received Rajya Sabha seats after retirement: a useful promise to make if your goal is mobilizing chronically online reels-junkies, but unhelpful towards actually productive discourse or reform.
If any legit vote is deleted, whether in a CJP or opposition-ruled state, the CEC shall be arrested under UAPA, as taking away voting rights of citizens is no less than terrorism.
The second point about the Chief Election Commissioner (CEC) and vote chori is similarly reductive and symptomatic of social media’s focus on soundbites and knee-jerk reactions rather than well-thought-out solutions to problems. Throwing morally compromised CECs in jail is an emotionally satisfying proposal for angry youths, but this on its own fails to install the more complex institutional safeguards that would actually solve the issue of vote chori and prevent future voter roll revisions from being as poorly managed as the current one. Doubly concerning is that the CJP plans to arrest corrupt CECs under the UAPA rather than under anti-corruption laws, since the UAPA uses vague language to define ‘terrorism’ and has historically been used to punish political opponents and dissidents; this tacit approval of the UAPA is disappointing to see. Equally concerning is the equating of vote chori with terrorism, symptomatic of the CJP’s emotionally charged rhetoric that eschews nuance in favor of anger and knee-jerk reactions – great for street protests and triggering resignations, detrimental to actual statecraft and governance. In this sense, the CJP is no better than the BJP: both parties call their opponents “terrorists” and aim to prosecute them under laws that violate due process, rather than seeking legally sound solutions to complex problems.
Women shall receive 50% reservation, not 33%, without increasing the strength of Parliament. Additionally, 50% of all Cabinet positions shall be reserved for women.
The third point about women’s reservations in the Lok Sabha is a good idea, but the outright refusal to consider delimitation is possibly a mistake. Introducing a 50% reservation for women in Parliament without increasing the number of seats would result in around 36% of all MPs losing their seats (50% reservation minus 14% already women), not because of mistakes on their part that caused the electorate to lose faith in them, but because they’re barred from running in constituencies reserved for women. This would be unfair to the many male legislators who have done good for their constituency and are disqualified from running simply because a compromise couldn’t be worked out over delimitation. The specifics of delimitation are up for debate, e.g. whether the relative strength of different states should stay static or reflect changes in population, but a blanket ban on delimitation is a bad idea. While there are some proposals for how to mitigate the issue of male MPs arbitrarily losing seats (such as rotating which constituencies are women-reserved), this introduces problems with continuity in governance and many promising politicians still having to change constituencies every five years, preventing them from building long-term relationships with constituents and developing the reputations necessary to achieving greater prominence and influence in politics in accordance with their ability. I am myself undecided on how/whether delimitation should be done, which is why I’ve called this ‘possibly’ a mistake – there’s a strong argument to be made that men should be willing to make political sacrifices for the sake of women’s representation, and it’s also difficult to find the correct middle-point between the “one person, one vote” principle and the obligation to balance different states’ interests regardless of population. The optimal solution to this problem will be complex, but the CJP’s outright refusal to consider delimitation seems a knee-jerk reaction to the recent controversy over it, symptomatic of lazy thinking and ignoring potential negative consequences, and unamenable to the compromise necessary to working out a solution in Parliament.
All media houses owned by Ambani and Adani shall have their licences cancelled to make way for truly independent media. Bank accounts of Godi media anchors shall be investigated.
Shifting away from the third point’s partly-reasonable-but-somewhat-flawed idea, the fourth point returns to being completely reductive. The constitutional protection of freedom of speech and press make it illegal to cancel Adani- and Ambani-owned media houses’ licenses just because the CJP dislikes their style of reporting. I’m curious how this would be implemented – perhaps News18 will be deemed disruptive of the “sovereignty and territorial integrity of India” and prosecuted under the UAPA, as they intend to do with the CEC? The Godi media is biased in favor of the BJP, spreads disinformation, and is harmful to Indian society, but the Indian Constitution very wisely protects free speech, meaning that Adani- and Ambani-owned media houses have a right to exist, even if they’re a stain on democracy. A legally sound solution respecting democratic values should combat the issue of biased media through media literacy education in schools and stricter rules on government support to media houses, rather than arbitrarily banning media houses and violating the right to freedom of speech and press. The CJP’s manifesto neglects those more effective solutions in favor of this ban because they are a social-media movement rather than a mature political party: solutions involving arresting people, cancelling licenses, and other extreme, vindictive actions are emotionally satisfying to read about and effective with the CJP’s audience of Twitter doomscrollers, even though these are bad ideas in reality. This point in their manifesto again reflects the core limitation of the CJP.
Any MLA or MP who defects from one party to another shall be barred from contesting elections — and from holding any public office — for a period of 20 years.
Again, back to these reductive-but-popular solutions involving blanket bans and zero nuance. What happens if there is actually good reason for a political defection? Consider the 1969 split of the Indian National Congress, triggered by Indira Gandhi’s development of a cult of personality, support for radical economic policies that discomfited many INC politicians, and her backing of an independent candidate for president over the Congress’ official candidate. This is a clear case of politicians jumping ship because of legitimate concerns with preserving the values for which they joined a party, men of integrity unwilling to place party above morals. Would the CJP have disqualified the INC(O) lawmakers from holding public office? Or, in the 1977 elections, would the CJP have barred Jagjivan Ram from leaving Indira Gandhi’s Congress and joining the Janata Party to defend India against her authoritarianism? This is a clear case of defection, so shouldn’t Jagjivan Ram have been denounced as a political opportunist and barred from politics until 1997? Again, CJP’s proclivity for simplistic blanket-ban solutions reveals serious dangers for the country if treated as serious policy proposals. Political defections motivated by opportunism are a serious issue and need to be more strictly regulated to prevent Aaya Ram Gaya Ram politics, but a blanket ban on defections is throwing the baby out with the bathwater, punishing both the opportunists and the people defecting for legitimate reasons.
The above analysis demonstrates the intellectual poverty of the CJP, leaning on knee-jerk reactions to raise popularity rather than providing serious ideas on how to improve the country. Perhaps this manifesto was meant as satire, in which case I’ve just provided an overly serious analysis and missed the joke; however, the massive attention given to the CJP recently suggests some people are seeing a more profound meaning in these demands and a serious future in the CJP, making this analysis necessary. The CJP provides no path towards comprehensive reform and lacks the intellectual maturity to be a productive political party. Anyone entertaining those delusions should realign their expectations accordingly. They’ve also focused exclusively on issues where there’s a universal consensus like “corruption bad” and “women’s representation good,” while remaining silent on more polarizing but equally pressing issues like foreign policy, economic development, and the dangers of communalism, since any stance on these issues would naturally alienate some people and reduce their popularity; as highlighted throughout this article, the CJP’s fundamental limitation is their focus on popularity over intellectual rigor. This refusal to address more polarizing ideas further reduces their viability as a path towards more comprehensive change in the form of a new political party or long-term movement.
Adding to the mountain of problems facing the CJP is their leadership structure, and the lack thereof. The CJP is a decentralized mass of angry youths following the diktats promulgated over social media by their “founder and convenor” Abhijit Dipke. There is no democratic decision-making body incorporating a diversity of ideological influences and shaping mature, nuanced stances on politics: there is Dipke, and then there are the masses at his beck and call. This makes the CJP’s maturity completely dependent on that of Dipke, who possesses few qualifications beyond competent online shitposting, an undergraduate degree in journalism and a master’s in public relations (neither related to core areas of government policy), and some volunteering for the Aam Aadmi Party. In addition to Dipke’s lack of experience and relevant qualifications for intelligent political thought, the CJP’s simplistic manifesto and focus on populism over intellectual rigor, as highlighted above, reflect poorly on his capacity to shape a more productive movement. Given the lack of a larger decision-making body, there is no self-correction mechanism to add much-needed depth and nuance to the marketing appeal brought by Dipke. The CJP possesses popularity and a few legitimate concerns about corruption and government incompetence, but none of the intellectual or organizational maturity needed to give them a role bigger than ‘social media movement’ or provide practical solutions for governance.
However, the CJP does have some value which I will now address.
Although the two are very different, I find the CJP similar to Karl Marx in some ways. Marx identified grave problems within capitalism and pointed out a need to change things; however, even though he was effective in identifying problems, his proposed solutions were seriously flawed and lacked the intellectual rigor of the rest of his work. The CJP suffers from the same issue: great at identifying some problems in the system, terrible at providing viable solutions. The CJP’s usefulness in today’s India will be similar to the usefulness Marx has historically had among the masses: providing a structure to public anger that puts pressure on the government to do better, even if the CJP itself is unable to itself articulate the details of reforms. Their campaign for the resignation of the Education Minister might not succeed in triggering his resignation, and it certainly isn’t providing any concrete ideas for reform, but it’s valuable because it pressures the government to take accountability for its failure in exam administration and to improve the system.
Despite all the CJP’s problems, I am glad it exists in India today. Unlike Anna Hazare’s “India Against Corruption,” it seems (at least currently) a genuine, groundroots campaign for the government to do better, rather than a group of morally compromised opportunists seeking to gain a foothold in politics by exploiting public anger. If Dipke retains his talent for viral marketing and the movement keeps gaining momentum, the CJP can play an essential role in keeping the government accountable for its actions and providing an impetus for much-needed reforms. The campaign against the Education Minister is already having an impact: it’s prevented the BJP from sweeping the issue under the rug and forced them to acknowledge a failure and work towards a solution. Nobody can say how effective the CJP will be on the exam administration issue, whether the government will actually create a viable solution as a result of this pressure or just implement half-measures and wait for public anger to die down; however, regardless of final outcomes, the CJP has substantially increased the probability of improvements in this area, and for that, we should appreciate them.