By Geetha VP
There was a time when the Bharatiya Janata Party’s public appeal rested on a carefully cultivated image of organisational discipline, cultural rootedness, and decisive governance. That image is steadily fraying. Large sections of the middle class and younger voters who once saw the saffron brigade as a corrective force now watch with growing unease as the party’s most visible faces trade in abuse, polarisation and theatrical contempt. The loudest among them are often neo-recruits—celebrities and aggressive converts with little patience for the restraint that once defined the organisation. Their language is not merely abrasive; it is actively driving people away.
Kangana Ranaut, the Bollywood actor turned politician, stands as the most glaring example. She entered electoral politics with the aura of a celebrity rebel but has repeatedly demonstrated a shallow understanding of Indian political culture and the responsibilities of a national party. During the recent Gen Z protests she labelled demonstrators the “Generation Gutter,” described their language and appearance as “puke-inducing,” and asked who was “birthing and raising them.” She dismissed some young women protesters as “ugly and corrupt.” Earlier she had claimed that India’s 1947 independence was mere “bheek” (alms) and that real freedom arrived only in 2014. She accused farmers’ protesters of creating a “Bangladesh-like situation” involving hanging bodies and rapes—remarks from which the BJP itself had to publicly distance itself. Such interventions do not expand the party’s reach; they shrink it by alienating moderates and young citizens who reject crude cultural policing.
She is not an isolated case. A growing circle of aggressive spokespersons specialises in caustic commentary that keeps the party permanently on the defensive. Sudhanshu Trivedi has accused the INDIA bloc of wanting to convert “Samajwad” into “Namazwad,” claimed opposition parties bow before mullahs and maulavis, and suggested they seek to implement Sharia law by the back door. He has warned that Kerala risks becoming a “Muslim state.” Sambit Patra has specialised in high-decibel attacks that frame every criticism as a conspiratorial or communal narrative; his remark that “Lord Jagannath is a devotee of Narendra Modi” (later called a slip of the tongue) revealed the same tendency to subordinate even religious symbolism to political hyperbole. Giriraj Singh has been more blunt still. At a Bihar rally he recounted a conversation with a Muslim cleric who had received benefits under central schemes yet, when pressed to swear by God, admitted he had not voted for the BJP. Singh declared he did not want the votes of “namak haraams.” The statement drew criticism even from alliance partners.
Nishikant Dubey has specialised in institutional confrontation, accusing the Supreme Court of pushing the country toward anarchy. Himanta Biswa Sarma’s repeated targeting of “Miya” Muslims in Assam and Suresh Gopi’s suggestion that a “Brahmin or Naidu” could better head the Tribal Affairs Ministry have further eroded the party’s claim to inclusive governance. The pattern is consistent: maximum provocation, limited accountability, and repeated damage-control exercises by the leadership.
When a Courtroom Remark Exposed the Cost
It was against this backdrop of internal rhetorical excess that a single courtroom remark by Chief Justice of India Surya Kant in May 2026, comparing certain unemployed youth to “cockroaches,” ignited a nationwide Gen Z movement. The Cockroach Janta Party protests at Jantar Mantar and across cities exposed deep youth alienation over paper leaks, unemployment, and institutional arrogance. After weeks of sustained agitation, Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan was forced to resign—the first such cabinet-level exit under sustained street pressure in years. The government eventually conceded major demands. The episode revealed something more corrosive than external opposition: the BJP’s growing inability to contain its own aggressive voices or to engage the young without condescension.
These neo-recruits and long-time loudmouths operate like termites. They hollow the organisation from inside while the leadership, inflated by electoral success and personality cult, remains slow to recognise the damage. Discussions of crony capitalism and the concentration of economic opportunity have entered ordinary conversation even among those who once celebrated the party’s rise. The same public that appreciated decisive governance now questions whether institutional capture and rhetorical excess are the price of power.
Dilution of Decorum and RSS Signals
High-profile, media-savvy entrants and aggressive regional satraps have altered the party’s traditional organisational culture. The older cadre valued restraint, long-term ideological work, and hierarchical discipline. The new style prizes viral provocation, personal branding, and permanent polarisation. Moderate voters who once found the BJP a vehicle for development and cultural assertion now see performative aggression that reduces politics to continuous confrontation. Internal friction follows. Long-time workers watch celebrity MPs and star campaigners receive disproportionate attention while their own organisational labour is sidelined.
The ideological mentor has noticed. RSS chief Mohan Bhagwat and other Sangh voices have urged dialogue with questioning youth rather than dismissal, warned against arrogance after electoral setbacks, and spoken of the need for humility and value-based governance. After the 2024 results and again during the Gen Z agitation, senior Sangh figures signalled discomfort with the BJP’s style—its reliance on personality, its corporate alignments, and its failure to engage rather than lecture. What was once private counsel has become more public because the party leadership has not internalised the warnings.
The degeneration is no longer invisible. A party that once positioned itself as the disciplined alternative is increasingly defined by the loudest and least restrained voices within it. The leadership’s hubris—the belief that electoral arithmetic and media dominance can indefinitely compensate for eroded credibility—prevents recognition of the internal threat. Termites do not announce themselves with speeches. They work quietly until the structure is compromised. The BJP’s dilemma is no longer merely external opposition. It is whether its own aggressive recruits and unfiltered rhetoric will continue to drive away the very constituencies that once formed its expanding base. Without a deliberate return to organisational discipline, political humility, and value-based restraint, the hollowing will accelerate. The public can already see it. The only question is whether those inside the fortress still can.