There is perhaps no other form of politics that is uglier than cockroach politics, as this form of politics does not aspire to construct anything substantial; it subsists through eating its own rotting flesh. Such politics does not feed on thought, organisation, or good governance; rather, it thrives on confusion, anger, misplaced moralism, and the manufacture of enemies along the way. In Bharatiya democracy, which is supposed to uphold civil discourse, constitutionality, cultural self-respect, and patience for democratic politics, this style of politics has done much harm. This style of politics has stripped away the very nature of discourse and turned it into a spectacle of accusations. While this style of politics does not concern itself with the national good, it preoccupies itself with how to take down the other side of the divide. Instead of influencing public opinion through rationality, it excites people’s passions through distortion.
What is especially alarming about cockroach politics is that, while drawing strength from institutional weaknesses, it acts as though it were standing for democracy. It hides behind the rhetoric of dissent, although in reality, it resists any form of clarity for the people. While it may celebrate dissent, it will definitely reject democracy if the result of elections does not suit its own interests. It will call upon people to exercise their freedom of expression, but in reality, it will exploit that same freedom for performative outrage and ideological intimidation.
While calling upon the citizens to embrace pluralism, it reduces it into an exercise in vote-bank mathematics, elitist posturing, and perpetual agitation. What ultimately results from all of this is the erosion of the very essence of democracy. When the idea of nation-building gets reduced to just another political gimmick, the spirit of democracy dies from within. A healthy democracy requires faith, self-restraint, and a minimum of trust in the nation’s civilisation and constitution. Cockroach politics undermines the common minimum trust. It convinces citizens that nothing is real, that all institutions can be doubted, and that anything happening inside the nation should be rejected if it doesn’t align with their version of events. But that’s not constructive criticism, that’s destructive cynicism.
What comes out of it is a general atmosphere in which everything is deemed unacceptable, all improvements are rejected outright, and progress is denied until it suits the political needs of those denying it. In such conditions, citizens become tired of politics, not wiser. Politics becomes a murky swamp where one can negotiate what is true and rent their loyalty. A very poor outcome for any democracy, but even worse for a vast and complex one like Bharat.
Where this sort of politics becomes particularly destructive is that it thrives not because it has an affirmative ideology but because it can constantly generate anger. It does not require a mission statement, as long as it can keep its adherents angry. It does not require governance as long as it keeps the masses suspicious. It does not require an ideological depth of thought as long as it keeps hollering about crises. In this respect, the movement itself is engineered not in the sense of a conspiracy, but rather as a convenient political arrangement fueled by media attention, selective narratives, and ideological opportunism.
It is constructed by stitching together grievances, alliances, and frameworks of thought that are not always highly relevant to the everyday experience of Indian citizens. This is why, in spite of all the hubbub and the media frenzy, such movements often end up being total failures. They might command attention, receive support in droves online, even inspire outrage among those who agree with the cause, but they almost never translate the attention to sustained faith in the public eye. Frustrating though people may find their lives and dealings with the government to be, they are hardly idiots. They recognise a movement that is more interested in causing trouble than in fixing anything. They know the difference between rhetoric couched in terms of righting injustice and actions driven by the desire for personal gain. They recognise a cause that seeks not to help the common good but to perpetuate what remains of an increasingly endangered species of political thought. Eventually, the general population loses faith. They might pay attention, but they will not believe.
Another significant reason this movement fails is that its political strategies lack the emotional intelligence of Bharatiya society. The Bharatiya democratic tradition is not only procedural but also highly moral, social, and civilizational. The citizens are willing to accommodate political messiness, but not without some measure of dignity. They can handle dissenting opinions, but not arrogant disdain. They can allow political mistakes, but not incessant dishonesty. Although they might not be able to describe their feelings in the same technical language as scholars do, citizens understand when certain political styles become anti-national in character, even when their arguments against the government remain relevant.
Even without knowing sophisticated terminology, citizens recognise when a political strategy begins to turn parasitic. In the end, if a movement consistently pursues such politics of sabotage, it slowly loses the right to represent the citizens. It should be noted as well that the artificiality of such political activity shows itself in the borrowing of energy. Identity conflict, class resentment, cultural uncertainty, foreign contrast, media sensation, these are some sources of such energy borrowing. However, borrowed energy will run out sooner or later. A political project that does not create its own seriousness will end up looking like a self-caricature. Such movement starts with the idea of enlightenment, but in the end, leaves only exhaustion. It starts with a desire to challenge the system, but in the end, it preserves its own inadequacy through constant scapegoating. Its leaders never question their own motives, since such a question may lead to the realisation that all their actions stem from emptiness. Therefore, they criticize, dodge and act.
Such is the level to which the democratic culture in Bharatiya has descended. What it needs is a politics that takes the voter as an individual who thinks, rather than as a prisoner. What it needs is political parties whose competitions should be in the arena of ideas, rather than in the marketplace of manipulation. What it needs is political opposition whose purpose is to make the country a better place by offering better governance, rather than by ensuring that the democratic process remains perpetually embroiled in confrontation. While opposition is important in any democratic nation, opposition becomes harmful when it abandons the need for constructive participation.
The best form of political opposition is one that compels the ruling party to improve while still believing in the republic. Cockroach politics aims to make the environment so poisonous that nothing else can thrive within. Such a style of politics is therefore never an accident but rather a matter of methodological choice. There can be no enduring political power that comes from such tactics, as such politics cannot inspire any genuine sense of dedication or loyalty over any sustained period. The citizenry may be momentarily incensed by the political style, but not inspired by it. The intellectuals may be momentarily impressed by the political style, but not converted. Activists may be momentarily roused by the political style but not motivated in any meaningful way. Any political movement lacking in any sense of morality will ultimately find itself incapable of withstanding the test of time. It may be able to sustain itself as a media spectacle, but not as a governing principle.
But there is another aspect of this issue that must be examined. Bharatiya democracy does not end at the ballot booth because it is an ongoing conversation between civilization and itself. When politics gets dirty, the quality of the conversation deteriorates. Politics turns the citizen into a suspicious individual, the political institution into a performance, and the life of politics into something unserious. And when that happens, regaining trust becomes problematic. This is why the harm done by cynicism is not cyclical – it is structural. The effect of cynicism goes beyond influencing the electoral process. The way we speak, our standards of behaviour, and even our expectations about public life change. And when society spends enough time being manipulated by its own political culture, the manipulation becomes the norm.
Therefore, finally, cockroach politics might be loud, but it is certainly not dignified. It might be stubborn, but it is certainly not principled. It might receive some momentary notice, but it will not command any lasting admiration. It fails in its efforts, for it mistakes life itself for success and agitation for achievement. It is fake, for it relies too heavily upon the externals of politics rather than any internal commitment to values and ideals. And it erodes Bharatiya democratic culture, for it shows people how to approach politics as a contest for devastation and destruction rather than as a task for construction. Such is the legacy of this politics: strength is replaced by cynicism; leadership is supplanted by residue; and democracy itself is corrupted by the public square.
