When Protest Turns into Mob Rule

The NEET protests at Jantar Mantar highlighted a democratic paradox: the right to protest is fundamental, but so is the state’s duty to restore order when violence erupts.

 The resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan marked an unusually swift act of political accountability. It acknowledged the gravity of the NEET examination fiasco, a scandal that had shaken the confidence of millions of aspirants and their families. The government cancelled the tainted examination, arrested those accused of orchestrating the paper leak and conducted a fresh test. For many, these measures represented a serious attempt to repair a broken system.

Yet the controversy has not ended with the minister’s departure. Instead, attention has shifted to the conduct of the Delhi Police during the violent clashes that erupted as protesters marched from Jantar Mantar towards Parliament. The dominant narrative in much of the public discourse has portrayed students as victims of excessive police force. That account deserves scrutiny because democracy rests not only on the right to dissent but also on the rule of law.

Legal Duty

The right to protest is fundamental. Equally fundamental is the state’s obligation to ensure public order, particularly around institutions central to constitutional governance. Parliament is not merely another government building. It is among the country’s most sensitive security zones, one that has itself been the target of terrorist attacks. Protecting it is not an optional responsibility entrusted to the police but their legal duty.

That context is frequently absent from discussions of the events of July 20. The protest, organised by the Cockroach Janata Party (CJP), began as a demonstration against the NEET paper leak. The organisers were permitted to assemble at Jantar Mantar, Delhi’s designated protest site. There was, therefore, no attempt by the authorities to suppress dissent. Protesters gathered, criticised the government and demanded the resignation of the Education Minister.

But instead of limiting themselves to the authorised venue or presenting a structured charter of reforms, the organisers announced a march towards Parliament on the opening day of the Monsoon Session. The area surrounding Parliament was already subject to prohibitory restrictions under Section 163 of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita because of obvious security considerations. Such restrictions do not permanently prohibit demonstrations. Groups regularly receive permission to march towards Parliament after disclosing the organisers, anticipated numbers, proposed route and intended programme. According to the police, no such permission existed for this mobilisation.

Governments are obliged to accommodate peaceful demonstrations. They are under no obligation to permit unauthorised crowds to advance towards one of the country's most heavily protected institutions.

Dubious Protestors

Another uncomfortable question has also received little attention: who exactly constituted the crowd? The organisers presented the gathering as a spontaneous mobilisation of aggrieved students. Yet little clarity exists about the composition of those present. Reports indicate that participants had arrived from several states, many mobilised through political networks rather than educational institutions. Distinguishing genuine students from political activists or professional agitators may be difficult in any mass protest. But that uncertainty is precisely why policing such demonstrations becomes so complicated.

A peaceful procession follows instructions, stops at designated barriers and allows a small delegation to submit demands. That is how democratic protest normally functions.

According to official accounts and video evidence released by the police, this march followed a different trajectory. Protesters allegedly attempted to breach barricades protecting Parliament, hurled stones at security personnel, vandalised police and private vehicles, attacked journalists, damaged nearby property, assaulted women police officers and even targeted a petrol pump. More than 150 police personnel reportedly suffered injuries, including officers from the constabulary to senior IPS ranks.

If these accounts are substantially correct, then the situation had ceased to be a peaceful demonstration. It had become a law-and-order emergency.

Police officers are not deployed merely to observe events unfold. They possess statutory powers precisely because governments cannot allow violent crowds to overwhelm public institutions. Once a gathering begins destroying property or attacking individuals, the police have not merely the authority but the obligation to intervene.

Critics argue that the police resorted to excessive force. That allegation deserves investigation wherever credible evidence exists. Democracies cannot exempt law-enforcement agencies from accountability. But accountability must apply equally to those organising demonstrations. If protest leaders encourage confrontations, refuse lawful directions or incite attacks on security personnel, responsibility cannot rest solely with the police.

The sequence of force also deserves attention. According to official accounts, officers first appealed for calm, then issued repeated warnings before carrying out a limited lathi-charge aimed below the waist. Tear gas was deployed only after those measures failed to disperse the crowd. Such graduated escalation broadly corresponds with established crowd-control protocols used by police forces across democratic societies.

Subsequent claims have further muddied the debate. Allegations that pellet guns were used gained political traction after Opposition leaders displayed injured protesters before television cameras. Yet pellet guns, had they been used, would almost certainly have injured large numbers of people rather than isolated individuals. Police maintain that the injuries resulted from fragments generated by tear-gas shells rather than pellet ammunition. Likewise, viral claims that a young woman had died during the police action were later found to be false.

Emotional Narratives

These episodes illustrate a broader problem in the age of social media. Emotional narratives frequently outrun verified facts. Images circulate faster than investigations. Political incentives reward outrage rather than accuracy.

None of this absolves the government of responsibility for the circumstances that produced the protests. The NEET paper leak represented a profound institutional failure. Competitive examinations determine the futures of millions of young Indians. The anger generated by the scandal was legitimate, and accountability was necessary. The resignation of the Education Minister reflected precisely that recognition.

But accountability cannot become selective. If governments must answer for administrative failures, protest organisers must answer for violence committed under their banners. Democratic rights carry corresponding democratic responsibilities. The freedom to assemble does not include the freedom to assault police officers, vandalise public property or attempt to force entry into Parliament.

India’s courts have repeatedly sought to balance these competing principles. The Supreme Court has consistently held that public roads cannot be occupied indefinitely in ways that infringe the rights of ordinary citizens. Protest is protected; disruption without limit is not. Ambulances, commuters and businesses possess rights too. Democracies succeed not because one right overwhelms every other, but because competing rights are reconciled through law.

Increasingly, sections of India’s political class appear to romanticise direct street mobilisation as superior to parliamentary politics. Some activists openly argue that decisive political outcomes should emerge not from legislatures but from sustained public agitation. Such rhetoric may sound revolutionary. In practice, it risks legitimising a form of competitive street power in which the loudest crowd, rather than constitutional institutions, determines public policy.

That is a dangerous proposition regardless of which party governs. If violent pressure tactics become politically rewarding in Delhi, they will inevitably be replicated elsewhere - whether in Karnataka, Kerala, Maharashtra or any other state. Governments of every ideological persuasion would then confront the same dilemma: either enforce the law and face accusations of repression, or tolerate escalating disorder and watch constitutional authority erode.

Democracy cannot function if every contentious issue is settled through physical confrontation outside Parliament’s gates. Nor can policing become impossible because every use of lawful force is automatically equated with brutality.

India certainly needs cleaner examinations, stronger institutions and greater governmental accountability. It also needs professional policing capable of distinguishing peaceful dissent from violent disorder. Weakening either pillar serves no one.

The challenge is not to choose between liberty and order. It is to preserve both. In a constitutional democracy, protest is a right. Violence is not. And asking the police to uphold that distinction is neither authoritarian nor anti-democratic; it is the very reason the institution exists.

(The writer is former Director General of Police, Maharashtra. Views personal.)