Lessons from Delhi's protests

Every big movement creates energy and leaves behind its traces — sometimes in the form of a victory, other times as a lesson. But it also leaves an imprint: humbling, bitter memories for some, and good ones for others.

The question remains: does anything change, beyond the sloganeering and the immediate political gains?

Without going too far back, and restricting myself to what I have covered as a reporter, the Anna Hazare movement was a big one, and it led to many shifts, even if not tectonic ones. Hazare gathered at Ram Lila Maidan, the crowds swelled, and it created an energy of change. It became the political education of a generation on the issue of corruption. There was an air of idealism about it, drawing attention from across the country — from schoolchildren to professionals, Gandhians who had lost their way.

It went on to give India Arvind Kejriwal, then a mere lieutenant of Hazare, who floated his own party and took up more local issues in Delhi, from electricity bills to school education. The immediate outcome was the Lokpal bill. The UPA government suffered losses in 2014, and Delhi lost its better-rated chief minister, Sheila Dikshit. Narendra Modi rode the wave to make a grand entry into Delhi. His first cabinet decision — setting up an SIT against black money — reflected that the needle had shifted on the issue of corruption. It had become a sensitive issue in politics.

Then came the Nirbhaya protest, following the gang rape of a 23-year-old student. Students occupied Vijay Chowk, near the central secretariat buildings. The brutality of the crime placed women's safety at the centre of public debate, leading to a new law and greater sensitivity to women's safety. In a way, it also became a precursor to the MeToo movement of 2018, when a Union minister lost his job. MeToo did not see protesters on the streets, but it signalled the growing importance of women's rights and a better work culture.

Then came the anti-CAA protests which organised primarily the Muslims over the issue of citizenships, and others over rights, positioning the Constitution to be part of the political campaign than as a mere law book. The Constitution remains a Laxman Rekha.

A bigger and by far the longest and largest in recent memory was the farmers' protests, a powerful gathering against a policy issue. Tens of thousands of farmers, with Sikh farmers from Punjab in the lead, laid siege to Delhi's borders. It drew international attention for the manner of its resistance. Sikhs found in it an echo of their past morchas. Families brought their children to the Singhu border to give them a glimpse of the community's past struggles. The result: the three farm laws were withdrawn. The farmers went home victorious, and some of the union leaders who had previously stayed away from active politics thought they could do what AAP had done. They floated a party but lost badly. AAP, which had entered the state five years earlier by replicating its Delhi model, swept the polls instead.

The movement changed Sikh politics too. There was a demand for newer leadership, and some did emerge, even if from among those with radical views.

But more than anything, this movement put the farmers' issue on the map for good. Farmers no longer sit at the margins of political campaigns and policymaking. They have shown their strength, and a larger population now looks at their issues with more sympathy.

Now come the CJP protests. In these too, the government's response followed the same pattern as before — first denial, then some dithering, and finally, when things got bigger, an attempt to crack down. Only when things became untenable did the government blink. This movement underlined the primacy of students' issues. Questions of education, employment and jobs have gained far greater resonance. This will remain so, in the way that corruption, women's safety and farmers' concerns can no longer be brushed aside. Political parties do react, and so do civil society groups.

In an earlier column, dated June 12, we looked at the early days of the CJP protests to question — as the title of the column, Checks and Balances, suggests — whether it was a mere reflection of mood or whether it would turn into a movement. Over 40 days later, it succeeded in its purpose, securing the resignation of an Education Minister over accountability, and even forcing the government to undertake exam reforms and bring in a new law.

These significant protests and movements, as mentioned above, also serve a purpose far beyond the action and the sensitivity they bring to different issues. They draw ordinary people — good Samaritans trying to help, those still hoping for a better society lending a hand, and those looking for a sense of purpose finding it here. Several stories of hope emerge, as do new heroes.

During every protest, there are multiple strands that run parallel: "The protest is politically motivated," or "it will not serve much purpose, as none of the previous ones had," or "protests endanger national stability," or "it will die down soon."

But each time, the language of protest gets refreshed, and it did this time, taking most of the previous generations by surprise. Gen Z had a language of its own, one that did not follow the earlier template of protests at Jantar Mantar or Ramlila Maidan.

During those days of protest, while they last, society too undergoes a kind of renewal.

Even the cynical get a nudge to notice the change, the angst, the idealism brewing below the surface. Many are forced to renew their faith in the human spirit — that things can change. The successful movements challenge, break assumptions, and offer a fresh chance at reinvention, if only someone is listening.