Meme is mightier than the sword

It is heartening to witness the Insta-nt generation’s victory of demo-crazy.

We have heard the story of how Mahatma Gandhi fought the British using non-violence. I am glad to have witnessed an abbreviated and Instagrammable version of it in my lifetime. By a bunch of youngsters who apparently had nothing better to do (allegedly, because their exam papers were leaked) armed with smartphones, memes, reels, sarcastic placards, satire, dark humour, and pop-culture references.

Gandhi didn’t defeat power by matching its power. Gen Z simply upgraded the philosophy.
Gandhi had the spinning wheel. Gen Z has Canva.
Gandhi had slogans. Gen Z has Instagram.
Gandhi gave speeches. Gen Z made memes.
Gandhi fasted. Gen Z fasted and took selfies about it.
And while Gandhi walked to Dandi, Gen Z gathered at Jantar Mantar. Less distance, less blisters. Very efficient.

A social media user summed it up: “Instagram open karte hi Jantar Mantar pahunch jaata hun.”

Thank you, Abhijeet Dipke, Saurav Das and Ashutosh Ranka. And thank you, CJI Surya Kant, who in my opinion, is the co-founder of the Cockroach Janta Party. Nobody launches a movement faster than a judge with a bad metaphor and a live mic. On May 15, the CJI's remark equating unemployed youngsters to cockroaches went viral. While he later clarified that he was misquoted, that was like sending “that's not what I meant” in a WhatsApp group after everyone has already screenshotted your message.

Within days, the insult had been reclaimed. The cockroach became a symbol of resilience: difficult to kill, impossible to ignore, and somehow capable of surviving almost anything, including Delhi summer and  Delhi air.

On May 16, Dipke posted on X: “What if all cockroaches came together?” Well. They did. And the CJP was born. When CJP was launched, its eligibility criteria sounded like the perfect Indian startup pitch: unemployed, lazy, chronically online, professionally frustrated, skilled at venting, and, most importantly, possessing a smartphone with sufficient battery. No fundable product required (ahem, ahem – my pet peeve with founders). The seed capital was pure spite.

The traditional political party needs an ideology to rally around. CJP needed Wi-Fi. The traditional political party has a youth wing. CJP has all the youth. And the memes. And CJP turned Jantar Mantar into something between a political rally, a stand-up comedy and a content-creation festival, with occasional lathi charges and tear gas attacks.

There were serious demands. There were serious grievances. And then there were the placards that were better than the speeches:
“Make in India, not leak in India.”
“Chowkidar to bolo, malik aa gaya.”
“Even my pads doesn’t leak this much”
“Bade bade deshon me chotte chotte bachon ko nahi marte”

Spiderman, Superman, Batman, Marvel, Melodi, Subway Surfers, movie references, viral Instagram trends, and practically anything that had survived the internet for more than 24 hours, found its way onto protest posters.

And perhaps that is what makes humour such a lethal weapon. Because once power becomes a meme, it becomes difficult to maintain the aura of invincibility. Governments know how to handle anger, slogans, and fiery speeches. But humour? That's awkward. Everyone loves a good joke. Even the people the joke is about.

The rulers can arrest a protester. They can remove a banner. They can block a road. They can switch off the internet. But how do you counter a 17-year-old whose meme gets five million views and your own family has also liked it? Good luck issuing a press release against that.

The sheer volume of memes generated by CJP could probably fill a large public library. Maybe somebody should open ‘The Cockroach Meme Library’. The librarian would be an Instagram algorithm. The membership criteria would be:

• Have Instagram
• Have a sense of humour
• Know to make memes and shorts
• And most importantly, have a spine (and that disqualifies all other generations)

This doesn’t mean Gen Z is unserious. They simply refuse to behave seriously while talking about serious stuff. Laughing at the fire doesn't mean you didn't notice the building.

CJP began as a meme. Then Sonam Wangchuk arrived. The man who has spent years working on education, sustainability, and Ladakh’s development, gave the movement moral authority and a human face. From freezing water into ice stupas in Ladakh to freezing government responses through a hunger strike.

The triple-engine government machinery deployed its usual toolkit: dismiss, discredit, question motives, threaten, bully and, when necessary, used force. Unfortunately, there was one problem. Cockroaches are notoriously difficult to eliminate. If you try to squash one, there are another fifty watching from behind the fridge, and in this case with mobile phones in hand making reels.

There is something deliciously ironic about CJI calling youth cockroaches, since cockroaches can survive extreme conditions, including living for days without a head, going a month without food, holding their breath for forty minutes, or surviving radiation. Basically, nature designed them for Indian politics.

The movement eventually became large enough to force a major political response, culminating in Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan's resignation on July 25. Turns out cockroaches don't just survive the apocalypse. Sometimes they cause a minor cabinet reshuffle too. You couldn't write this stuff. Actually, you could. But then nobody would believe you.

There is, however, one slightly depressing part of this entire episode. Only a tiny lot of celebrities and influencers threw their weight behind the movement. Democracy is not a spectator sport. You cannot sit in the living room, watch young people get beaten up, forward three WhatsApp messages about democracy and then congratulate yourself for having participated. It is like liking a gym selfie and calling it exercise. At some point, you have to show up.

A long while ago, I wrote a blog on why people should vote. My argument then was simple: democracy doesn't work if citizens treat elections as an occasional inconvenience. They need to participate. The same principle applies to protest.

Voting says “I want a say in who governs me.” Protesting says “I don't agree with what you are doing.” Neither requires you to hate the country. Neither requires you to belong to a political party. And neither requires you to agree with everything others say. Democracy is not the art of agreeing with everybody. It is the freedom to disagree without being crushed for doing so.

Perhaps this is what democracy looks like today. It looks like thousands of young people standing in Jantar Mantar holding cardboard signs. It looks like a rubber duck facing a water cannon. It looks like a British protester making a Rick Astley joke about Brexit. That doesn't make democracy weaker. It actually makes it stronger.

I am not sure what CJP will become next. Perhaps it will disappear now that its immediate objective has been achieved. Perhaps it will evolve into something larger. Perhaps the cockroaches will go back to Instagram, reels and their doomscrolling. Perhaps some will enter politics, though that would be the worst possible outcome. Because then we may have to deal with politicians who understand memes. God help us then. Maybe his Instagram notification will alert him.

But after all this, if you still think the youth are irrelevant, unemployed, lazy, chronically online and easily inconvenienced, I have one small suggestion. Don't call them cockroaches. Because they might just come together. And then you have a Cockroach Janta Party to deal with. And apparently, they know how to win issues without being political or contesting an election.

I wonder what will happen when Gen Alpha enters the political scene with AI! Till then, vastaguna huiyee..

Long live demo-crazy. Long live the Insta-nt generation. Long live the cockroaches.

PS : That’s my daughter filming from the background when 'Spider-Man: No Way Home' entered the CJP protest at Freedom Park, Bangalore.