While I sat enjoying my reading, a cockroach flew into the room and landed on my shoulder. For a moment, I felt as though I was about to have a heart attack. I abhor those creatures. I jumped up, grabbed a can of Bop and went after the pest with one objective: to exterminate it.
What was interesting, though, was that at that exact moment, I was reading about a cockroach-related controversy unfolding in India.
On May 15, 2026, during a Supreme Court hearing concerning fake law degrees, India’s Chief Justice, Surya Kant, remarked that some unemployed young people become “media, social media or RTI activists” and were like “cockroaches” and “parasites of society” who “attack the system.”
A day later, he clarified that his comments were directed only at people who entered the legal profession using fake degrees, not at unemployed youth in general.
By then, however, the word had already escaped the courtroom.
Public relations strategist Abhijeet Dipke jokingly launched the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) as a satirical movement, declaring that membership was open to anyone who was “unemployed, lazy, chronically online and able to rant professionally.”
The idea exploded online. The movement reportedly gained 3.7 million followers within 24 hours and by late May had amassed 22 million Instagram followers, surpassing the Bharatiya Janata Party’s online following at the time.
The Chief Justice soon found himself at the centre of a social media backlash over his use of a word with a troubling historical legacy.
In Nazi Germany, Jews were often depicted as rats and cockroaches, reinforcing the view that they were somehow contaminating or “infesting” the nation.
Similarly, during Rwanda’s 1994 genocide, Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines repeatedly referred to Tutsis as “cockroaches.”
Dipke’s online platform tapped into broader frustrations among India’s youth, particularly concerns about unemployment, examination failures, paper leaks and a growing sense that young people were being ignored by public institutions.
Then came the crackdown.
The movement’s X account was withheld in India, following what the platform described as a legal demand. The government was reported to have cited national security concerns, while CJP’s founder alleged its website and social media accounts were taken down or compromised.
Critics viewed the measures as an authoritarian attempt to silence satire and dissent. Ironically, the government’s actions generated even more attention for the movement. Efforts to suppress the cockroach seemed only to make it multiply.
The episode also offers a lesson in how derogatory language can be reclaimed and transformed into a tool for mobilisation.
CJP adopted the slogan: “Yes, we’re cockroaches. We survive anything. We’re everywhere.” By embracing the insult, supporters turned a term of contempt into a symbol of resilience.
The cockroach became a representation of survival, endurance and refusal to disappear. The insult became the logo. The target became the movement. The very word intended to diminish instead became a rallying cry.
And mobilisation soon moved from the screen to the streets.
CJP supporters gathered at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi, demanding accountability and calling for the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan.
The sustained protests presented one of the most significant political challenges to Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s administration during his third term. Modi initially resisted removing the minister, instead promising fast-track courts and strict punishment for those responsible.
Critics accused him of shielding Pradhan. However, as public pressure mounted and demonstrations continued, Modi eventually chose to sacrifice his minister. After weeks of protests, Pradhan resigned and CJP declared victory before calling off its demonstrations.
The protesters may have gone home, but the frustrations that drew them into the streets have not necessarily disappeared. Whether the movement has truly ended or merely paused remains to be seen.
What began as outrage over a judicial comment evolved into a national conversation about unemployment, political leadership, institutional trust, freedom of expression and broader social discontent.
The episode also demonstrated the growing power of social media as a tool for mobilisation, enabling young people to transform an online sense of “us versus them” into collective political action.
For those in positions of authority, the lesson is clear.
In an age of instant communication, words and actions can have consequences far beyond the moment in which they are uttered. A comment can go viral, a joke can become a protest and a single incident can ignite frustrations that have been simmering for years.
The CJP was more than a fleeting controversy. It was a warning and a reminder that when young people feel unheard, dismissed or excluded, their discontent can quickly evolve into a movement.
