Rajya Sabha MP Manoj Kumar Jha | Photo Credit: Shashi Shekhar Kashyap / The Hindu

Professor Jha, how do you look at this process politically? This is, of course, a legal judgment, but there are many political implications.

I must be very frank before I react politically. As a citizen, as a student of history and contemporary politics—as someone who has strongly believed in the idea of India, who believes there is no alternative to Gandhian-Nehruvian thinking in this country—I am alarmed and disturbed, not only by the way the outcome is being perceived by the media, but also by the sheer use of language. If you remember, I was a petitioner on SIR. We never challenged the authority of the Election Commission. What we wanted was for an inclusion exercise not to result in exclusion.

In a country where judicial delay is very obvious—there are cases where trials have not even begun, but in the name of a pending trial, people sit in jail for five or six years—that worries me as a citizen. Where are we heading? You refer to Bengal; even in Bihar, there were people who did not have the documents in the form demanded. And let me add something: if we had not approached the Supreme Court, documents like Aadhaar would not have been included. We were able to do it because we could convince the court that this document has the maximum penetration in my State. Now, looking at Bengal, I worry that there could be a large number of Stateless people—not because—

Do you think voteless and stateless will go together?

That is what it appears as of now. I am sorry to say this, because in darker times, you look for institutional relief, and I think whenever we have approached the Supreme Court in the last couple of years, we actually wanted to see some possibility of light at the end of a dark tunnel. Now, when an honourable judge of the Supreme Court says that if you cannot vote this time and your name gets cleared, you would vote next time, the ordinariness with which “not voting this time” was presented is striking.

If you go back to the Constituent Assembly debates, when universal franchise was being debated, and the seriousness of those debates, the sanctity they attached to the vote—I think all of that evaporates. I fear that in Bengal, or even Bihar, or in other States, as the SIR process moves forward, we could have voteless, stateless people in this country. And all this rhetoric of sending them across the borders—it won’t work. We have not seen such cases.

Even until some years ago, the Election Commission’s goal was to include people. There were campaigns—through the media and other channels—about how to get more people to enrol, especially those turning 18.

So what is this, then?

Is this a targeted exercise?

It is a purely targeted exercise. I think only two or three people know the full picture—one from the government and one sitting at the top of this body. What is important is that we have so many former election commissioners, people who served recently, and none of them came out in favour of this modus operandi of SIR. Why? If there was such merit in it, surely it could have got support from two or three of them.

And many of them are appointees of this government.

This government’s appointees. And second—something I must raise—the level of arrogance. I have been interacting with election commissioners for a very long time, much before I joined Parliament. I came to Parliament as a university teacher; I approached the commission to raise public issues. This arrogance does not go down well with a body entrusted to conduct free and fair elections. After meeting the current Chief Election Commissioner, I wrote a piece in the form of an imaginary letter from the first Election Commissioner, Sukumar Sen, to the present one. That epistolary form was meant to convey that all is not well.

And that is what I see today—in Maharashtra, people are being told that such-and-such numbers will not get this benefit. As you mentioned, like D voters in Assam, we will have multiple layers of citizens—or non-citizens—in this country. There will be eligible voters, D voters, and possibly a different category altogether where, till your case is pending, you are stateless and voterless. I never imagined I would see these kinds of images in my country. It is horrifying and intimidating.

What is your sense of the role the Election Commission is playing? Is it something personal to the Chief Election Commissioner, or is it an institutional process that is backing the government?

I would put it the other way around. The government is, I feel, backing an idea that you would have, on paper, free and fair elections, but the conclusion of the election is a foregone conclusion. Look at Assam—the way constituencies have been crafted. It is not without reason that people ridicule Congress for having 19 or 20 MLAs, 18 of whom are Muslim.

So the idea is to reduce a party to a “Muslim party”—quote unquote?

That is where I find a design—a connection between this SIR and the government’s proposed delimitation. These are not two standalone phenomena. They have a connectivity, a relationship, and this relationship is presented as an organic one. I don’t think the individual sitting at the top of the Election Commission matters much, but the top two people in the government are very keen to have an arrangement that guarantees them at least two or three election victories on the basis of the new constituencies that emerge.

We also saw the protests against the CAA and NRC some years ago, and much of it related to the fears of the Muslim minority. Is this SIR—because we have some evidence that of the 27 lakh excluded in Bengal, many happen to be Muslims—a kind of NRC by the back door, with a pliant Election Commission helping?

If you read their language, written or spoken, it is not even a backdoor operation. It is almost being done under the garb, not backdoor, just a change of mask. I feel bad because after Partition, this country was on a mission of healing, and we largely succeeded. We had very cordial relationships between communities—aberrations notwithstanding—and everybody understood that shared existence was the only alternative.

Now, suddenly, Muslims are being presented in this country not very differently from how the Führer viewed Jews in Germany. Times have changed, so the vocabulary has changed, but underneath every argument, there is a feeling. Muslim disenfranchisement—not strictly in a literal sense, but metaphorically reducing a community to the level of an undesirable—is a project this present government has undertaken.

Even their precursors were on it, but they were not so brazen, not so blatant. And this brazenness has gained significant societal acceptance. If you ask for my list of most worrying phenomena, this is among them.

Voters check their names in the list after the Election Commission published West Bengal’s post-SIR electoral rolls, in Kolkata on February 28, 2026. | Photo Credit: PTI

This communal poison has really seeped down into society.

It is not only communal poison anymore—it has acquired a theoretical paradigm of its own. Whether it is a cricket match, a festival, or something purely economic in nature, this angle is the first explanation available across the media. And that is sad. Very, very sad.

You refer to vocabulary. We have now seen the Chief Justice of India using the term “cockroaches” for young people, and going on to describe them as “parasites”. I also want to connect this to a very senior Minister’s use of the term “termites”.

This kind of language—what does it reflect? Poor people in this country are already suffering; with the war in West Asia, many cannot afford to live in cities and are going back home because they cannot buy gas cylinders. Isn’t this a kind of contempt? When the Chief Justice of India speaks, people listen—and today everything is on live telecast.

It is not simply a language of contempt. It is much more serious than that. As a student of history—in Germany, the first term used for Jews was worms. Discrimination and demonisation first start in language. Violence in language is a test. Demonisation in language is a test. If society accepts it, then you go further, and it converts into physical forms of violence. Violence in language prepares an audience, a supporting group, and when actual violence takes place, nobody is surprised—they take it as a logical outcome.

The Chief Justice did clarify his remarks the next day, and I had written him an open letter, very carefully penned and sensitive to the concerns he had expressed. But if you examine the language being employed by people at the top, the problem is that they do not even see it as a problem. They see it as a linear paradigm in which violence in language prepares violence on the streets. We have seen enough of that in the last couple of years.

Do you think the battle for secular India has been lost?

What do you want me to be—honest about it, or should I, even in pessimism, search for words that your audience, when they watch this, will not see as despair? Because I share that despair. Recently, I wrote a piece—for Frontline itself—about Nehru and Guru Dutt. The purpose was this: when you read Nehru’s letters and his books multiple times, you realise there was a loner in Nehru. He had huge tasks and was overwhelmed by the responsibility—a partitioned India, illiteracy, and so many other challenges, including colleagues with right-wing tilts. Guru Dutt’s struggle was in a different plane, a different arena.

Very creative, full of energy—and yet there was a similarity. Both could see the possibility of a new India. They could see the possibility of healing, because they knew we were hurt, and the only option was to heal—through cinema, through Parliament, through policy. Today, healing is conspicuous by its absence. It is hurt, hurt, more hurt—that community is hurt, let us hurt them more. In this scenario, holding on to hope is very difficult, yet we have no other option.

I think of Oswald Spengler’s theory of the rise and fall of civilisations—I am not a great fan of Spengler, but I am a great fan of this possibility of rise and fall, and I have seen it enough. I believe that someday—as has happened in some Latin American countries—people will realise. As I can see in some recent images, whether on CBSE, NEET, or similar issues, people at least temporarily look away from temples, mosques, and religious polarisation. If that limited sense becomes a collective sense, we shall overcome, and we shall resume the project of nation-building, which was halted. I won’t say only because of Modi ji; it was halted midway in the late 1970s as well.

I want to respond to the “cockroach” remark. We have seen the emergence on social media of a “Cockroach Janta Party” with a huge following—on Instagram especially, surpassing the largest political party in the world. How do you see that? Is it a sign of hope, a sign of discontent? What is it to you?

As a political observer and as a citizen, I believe there is massive discontent—and it does not require rocket science to understand that. But on political formation or any kind of direction to this journey, ideological clarity is very important. We have seen political parties rise and die quickly because ideology is the spine. If the spine is missing, you might have temporary success —and maybe that temporary is not so temporary—but ultimately, people will ask: what is your position on constitutional values? How do you feel about equality, justice, social justice, and freedom? China is also doing very well, but would we like to become China?

Because, in spite of all its ills, we have a multi-party system. China is one party, one nation. Although the RSS and BJP would like that kind of arrangement—one nation, one election, one party—it can go to ridiculous extents: one nation, one capitalist. Anyway, about this CJP phenomenon, I would wait to see how they decide to speak on multiple issues. There are countries in this world where there is no hunger—but no freedom either. The choice is not between hunger and freedom. As I used to say in class, some say freedom from want, some say freedom of expression. We want both—freedom from and freedom of.

A supporter carries the CJP founder Abhijeet Dipke, in white, over his shoulder during a protest demanding the resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan over alleged examination-related lapses, at the Jantar Mantar, in New Delhi on June 6, 2026. | Photo Credit: Karma Bhutia/PTI

Coming to political phenomena, the “spine” you mentioned—we are sitting in Delhi, and we saw the AAP phenomenon. Many people not linked to politics came out in droves to join it. The jury is still out on the future of AAP; they do have a State government in Punjab. But they seem to have adopted many of the traits of traditional political parties, which led to a lot of people leaving.

I personally feel something is conveyed by the symbol of Kejriwal’s car, similar to Mamata Banerjee’s Zen in its time. Do you think that disillusionment with politics is deep? You are also a teacher at the Delhi School of Social Work. You interact with young people—how do you see their interest in and approach to politics today?

I have worked very closely in Parliament with the AAP. But about the Anna movement and its symbolism, I had a very different view at the time—many of my colleagues disagreed with me, because I teach a paper called Social Movements. They literally forced me to go to Jantar Mantar. I went, spent time there, but I did not have a very good feeling, because I am somebody who watches symbols, posters, slogans, very carefully, for what they convey.

There were also a couple of other issues, particularly during the COVID period, when I thought that the governance would look at things differently. My students—when I go to take class, there is a general cynicism. And their cynicism towards politics is not unfounded. They loved a particular phenomenon and did not see it evolving the way they had hoped. Have you read a story called “Haari ki Jeet”? It is a popular Hindi story by Sudarshan, if I am not mistaken. There is an old man who has a horse, and a dacoit has his eye on it.

He tried everything to take it, but the old man would not part with it. One day, the dacoit dressed himself as a physically challenged person and sought the old man’s help. The old man helped him, and the dacoit kicked him and rode away. The old man shouted from behind: “Don’t tell anyone how you got this horse; people will stop helping the physically challenged.” The moral is: once you are bitten, once you are disappointed, for another powerful movement to arise, it takes time. My combined view on the AAP and the CJP is captured through that metaphor.

One of the things we have seen, quite apart from other systems coming under stress from the Modi government, is a complete collapse of the examination system. Whether it is NEET, or the various paper leaks—and interestingly, the government now wants to involve the armed forces in ferrying question papers.

This reminds me of my time as The Hindu’s correspondent in Pakistan, where the army was used, for instance, for the census. We are not yet there, but it is a disturbing phenomenon.

Whatever merit system we built up in the last 70–75 years—imperfect as it is—it supplies civil servants, judges, doctors, and engineers. If the integrity of this system is repeatedly under question, what does it mean for students?

Something that has been in our minds for some time has now been expressed by someone from their own ecosystem—the right-wing ecosystem. Surjit Bhalla wrote that Modi and his team have mastered how to win elections. But governance is not simply about winning elections. They have put a hyphen between governance and winning elections. Let me give you an example from my university. I teach in the Department of Social Work. Every year, our session used to start on July 16 or 1, depending on which day was a Monday or Tuesday. Since CUET came in, my session does not start on time, because admissions do not happen on time—staggered admission process. By the time the last student comes to class, we are halfway through the first semester.

Now, NEET. I had raised this issue in Parliament together with members from the Congress and DMK. The government is in denial mode. And I have seen so many governments—I have read about Nehruvian cabinets, and those of Indira Gandhi, Morarji Desai, and others. There was something called accountability. This government thinks accountability should not be in its political dictionary. The other day, the Member Secretary of the CBSE was transferred—not removed, transferred—and there were identical tweets across platforms, similar “breaking news”: decisive action, etc. I am not among those who only seek the resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan, the Education Minister.

This is a Cabinet whose motto is me, my, and mine—nothing beyond me, nothing beneath me, nothing besides me. That is Modi ji. A Minister cannot change a table in his or her own Ministry, not even a flower pot. So accountability in that kind of Cabinet should be very clear: the buck stops where? They have drawn the army into this entire exercise—and I believe the Indian Army should be proud of doing what is expected of it. Isn’t this a complete admission of government failure? And if there is an admission of failure, who should be held accountable? Not only the Education Minister, but also the Prime Minister himself, because this is a self-centred Cabinet. Education is certainly not their priority.

Unemployment does not affect their cognitive frame. Their cognitive frame is only: Bengal, done—what next? Bihar, done—what next? If a government is perpetually in election mode, we should perhaps have an arrangement where there is one wing for winning elections and one for governance.

Like a split. But for young people—a lot of people from elite sections go abroad, but most are here. Isn’t it a bleak scenario that you prepare for these exams? When I went to Delhi University, there was no CUET; you entered on the basis of the marks you got. The government, in its wisdom, has introduced this new system. With the leaks that are happening, what kind of future do these young people face?

Most of your questions, if I examine them honestly, lead me to say: I share what is going through the minds of people—the young person who is not getting a job, the young person who is not getting admission on time, the young person who goes to an examination centre, sits and writes the paper, comes home, and sees breaking news that the paper has been leaked.

Paper leaks should be seen through the lens of those parents from Bihar, UP, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, or any other state. They sell a part of their small plot of land, put their ward in an urban centre, the student prepares for a full year, the family struggles through that year—and ultimately the student is told: you have to reappear.

Will every family have the resources or the energy to rerun the entire exercise? I know many families who cannot afford it. If these issues do not impact the government enough to change its course, I do not know what will.

But the transfer, as you said, the word accountability does not seem to—

Not at all. He has been transferred from place A to place B. Imagine: it is like a beat constable posted two kilometres from where a stampede took place in which thousands of people lost their lives, and the government announces it has taken action—that constable has been transferred from that beat to the Dwarka beat. It is absolutely ridiculous. It mocks the very idea of accountability. At the back of this government’s mind, when all is said and done, the only question is: what next?

To wrap up: we heard a lot about “Congress-Mukt Bharat”, but it looks as if the BJP is looking for an “opposition-Mukt Bharat”. Do you think they are succeeding in that project?

As of now, it appears they are on a successful trajectory. It appears. But I was writing something today, and I have an argument to make: when they say they are finishing off regional parties—mark my words—if regional parties are gone, the idea of India is gone. Regional parties have not mushroomed just for the sake of it. They are located largely in the post-Nehruvian world, because all the regions, more or less—except for one election in Kerala—looked up to Nehru to do justice to the states within the union, to maintain a balanced relationship.

Post-Nehruvian politics changed that scenario, and subsequently, for many reasons, regional parties came into the picture in different states. Regional parties represent the aspirations of their regions. I have been saying this—I have said it in my book—that India itself is a coalition. The idea of India is an idea of coalition: a coalition of languages, of regions, of religions. If this coalition, represented by so-called national parties and regional parties, is broken, the cracks will appear on the idea of India itself. Yes, we have lost elections—I cannot deny it.

But with a 29–30 per cent vote share, nobody should be writing obituaries. In Bengal, Trinamool had 41 per cent; it might go down, but even if there is 2 per cent behind an idea, that idea does not die. The BJP did not die when it was reduced to two members. No philosophy dies, no idea dies. There are periods of ups and periods of downs. Let us consider that we are in that phase.