On 20 July, the political meaning of the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) protest changed without its demands changing. Thousands of young people had assembled in New Delhi seeking accountability for examination failures and the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. They remained recognised as protesters while they occupied Jantar Mantar.
Once they began moving towards Parliament, however, they were confronted with barricades, batons, and tear gas. The decisive act was not speech but movement.
At Jantar Mantar, slogans could be delivered from a known stage, before an observable crowd, within a designated perimeter. The proposed march disrupted that arrangement.
It threatened to carry a grievance from the place assigned to dissent towards the institutions to which the grievance was addressed. What changed was not what the protesters said, but where their bodies and demands might travel.
The State's Management of Dissent
Jantar Mantar’s political identity has its own administrative history. For decades after Independence, major demonstrations gathered at the Boat Club lawns along the avenue then known as Rajpath, closer to Raisina Hill. After Mahendra Singh Tikait’s large farmers’ mobilisation in 1988, access to the lawns was restricted, and from 1993, Jantar Mantar Road became central Delhi’s principal permitted protest site.
The substitution was politically consequential. An expansive arena from which processions could approach institutions of government gave way to a narrow road more easily policed. The tension between political visibility and administrative manageability later became central to the legal contest over Jantar Mantar.The National Green Tribunal banned demonstrations there in 2017. The Supreme Court of India lifted the prohibition in 2018, but restored protest in a regulated form. Jantar Mantar was, therefore, produced through restriction, displacement, and administrative design.
In one of the recent commentaries, Jantar Mantar is described as a Foucauldian heterotopia and panoptic enclosure. The site is indeed a counter-space where dissent is represented and contained, close enough to advertise democratic openness but sufficiently separated from Parliament and the principal ministries. Yet, heterotopia describes where dissent is placed. It does not fully explain why a stationary crowd remains tolerable while a circulating crowd is reclassified as dangerous.
The shift from tolerated presence to prohibited circulation becomes clearer through a different spatial configuration in Michel Foucault’s work. In Discipline and Punish, the plague-stricken town is divided into carefully supervised segments. Movement is recorded, passages are controlled, and potentially dangerous bodies are fixed in place. In his later lectures collected in Security, Territory, Population, Foucault shifts attention from enclosure alone to the management of circulation. Security distinguishes between movements that should be facilitated and those that must be slowed, redirected or stopped.
Jantar Mantar can, therefore, be read as a form of “political quarantine”. It admits dissent in a controlled dose while preventing that dissent from circulating through the wider political organism.
Protesters may speak, display placards, and attract cameras. But they must remain stationary, temporally regulated, and spatially obedient. Their presence is permitted so long as it does not interrupt the routes and routines through which sovereign power conducts itself.
How The March Changed The Game
The CJP makes this logic unusually visible because it has reclaimed the cockroach, the pest par excellence, as its political figure. I use “pestification” not to describe these young citizens as vermin, but to name the process through which a political population is rendered governable as a nuisance. Once citizens are treated principally as a problem of density, noise, mobility and public order, the State no longer has to answer their claims immediately. It can instead administer their presence.
Barricades, surveillance, permissions, and fixed protest hours are elements of this administration. They separate acceptable dissent from dissent deemed capable of spreading. The static demonstrator remains a citizen exercising a qualified right. The mobile demonstrator becomes a risk to be intercepted.
The Parliament march challenged precisely this classification. Protesters were not simply seeking a more prominent backdrop. They were refusing the political distance built into the designated protest site. By approaching Parliament during its Monsoon Session, they attempted to collapse the separation between those demanding accountability and those empowered to provide it. The breach of the barricade was, therefore, also a breach of political quarantine.
The Right To Movement
The cordon subsequently expanded beyond Jantar Mantar. Metro stations were closed, mobile internet was suspended, and access through central Delhi was repeatedly restricted. By 24 July, this expanding cordon had reached into the city’s transport network, with 17 Metro stations closed. These measures affected protesters, commuters, taxi drivers, and small traders alike. The State acted not only upon the assembled crowd but upon what Foucault calls its “milieu”, i.e., the network of routes, communications, and economic exchanges through which political mobilisation might multiply.
Roberto Esposito’s concept of immunisation brings the underlying democratic paradox into sharper focus. An immunitary political order protects itself by limiting forms of exposure that it considers threatening. Jantar Mantar permits a carefully regulated quantity of dissent as evidence that democracy remains alive, while insulating the institutions of government from dissent’s disruptive consequences. The objective need not be the complete disappearance of protest. A visible but isolated protest may be more useful than an outright prohibition because it converts political conflict into governable spectacle.
This interpretation does not require romanticising every action of the crowd. Police personnel were reportedly injured, and the State has a legitimate obligation to prevent violence. But public safety cannot mean that democratic legitimacy depends upon spatial obedience. When every attempt to move beyond a designated enclave turns protesters from rights-bearing citizens into a dangerous population, regulation begins to neutralise the political substance of assembly.
Thus, the struggle at Jantar Mantar is about more than examination integrity or one minister’s resignation. It concerns the conditions under which citizens are permitted to become a collective political body. The cockroach symbol refuses the demand for respectable appearance. The march towards Parliament refused the demand for quarantined presence.
A democracy that permits grievance only as a stationary performance does not abolish dissent. It metabolises dissent into harmless spectacle. The problem at Jantar Mantar is not that India has no space for protest. It is that protest is granted a space on the condition that it does not become contagious.
(Niladri Chatterjee is a senior lecturer and researcher at Department of Cultural Sciences, Linnaeus University, Sweden and an affiliated researcher with University of Oslo, Norway.This is an opinion piece and the views expressed are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)