Pavan K. Varma | Shirtless Protest Immature, Govt Must Not Overreact

The shirtless demonstration of the Indian Youth Congress (IYC) at the AI Summit in New Delhi has created predictable outrage. Dignity in protest is not an irrelevant virtue. Public life benefits from a certain moral gravitas. The IYC workers could have chosen other methods — a silent black-band demonstration, a fast, a placard campaign, or a structured public debate on the issues they wanted to draw attention to. They could have sought prior permission for a designated protest area, thereby reducing public ire and strengthening their moral high ground.

In a high-profile international gathering on artificial intelligence — symbolic of India’s aspirations to technological leadership — the sudden spectacle of slogan-shouting, shirtless demonstrators was embarrassing and disruptive, especially in the presence of global leaders from across the world, including heads of state or government. One may legitimately ask whether this was the most dignified or effective way to articulate political disagreement.

This being said, there are larger questions that arise which deserve a calmer and more reflective scrutiny. Democracy, it has often been said, is not a drawing room arrangement. It is noisy, argumentative, frequently untidy. Democracy allows the right to dissent, to disagree, to question, to embarrass power if necessary. Moreover, sensational protests are not unprecedented. Public protest has always walked a fine line between decorum and disruption. In our own freedom movement, Mahatma Gandhi’s dignified restraint coexisted with acts of symbolic defiance, such as the march to Dandi to dramatise injustice.

The shirtless demonstration at the summit was clearly intended to shock. It was theatre. But political theatre is as old as politics itself. One may question its taste. One may argue that such gestures trivialise serious issues. Yet to leap from aesthetic disapproval to allegations of “anti-national conspiracy” is to dangerously stretch the elasticity of the law.

Globally, there have been far more “outrageous” forms of protest. The Ukrainian feminist group Femen made topless demonstrations its signature style to protest patriarchy, authoritarianism, and religious conservatism. In Europe, climate activists associated with groups such as Just Stop Oil have hurled soup at masterpieces in museums to dramatize environmental catastrophe. The shock value is deliberate; the target is symbolism, not permanent destruction.

In the United States, members of the protest movement Act Up in the 1980s staged dramatic “die-ins” to highlight governmental apathy towards AIDS victims. Their methods were disruptive, occasionally abrasive, but they forced the conscience of a nation to stir. In democratic India too, farmers have marched in semi-nude processions in Maharashtra to underscore agrarian distress. In Manipur, women have stood nude to protest the alleged atrocities of the Assam Rifles. Each method carries its own grammar of dissent.

The critical question, therefore, is not only whether a protest is refined or coarse. It is whether it is peaceful. Democracies are tested not by agreeable speech but by unsettling expression. If every act that embarrasses authority is equated with a conspiracy against the state, we risk conflating the government of the day with the nation itself — a conflation that is constitutionally untenable. The Indian state is larger and more enduring than any political party. To critique or embarrass the latter is not to conspire against the former.

There is also the question of proportionality in punishment. The law is not merely an instrument of order; it is also an instrument of wisdom. If the protest violated specific provisions relating to public order or obscenity, there are graduated penalties available — fines, short-term detention, or community service. Democracies operate on calibrated responses, not maximalist impulses. To incarcerate protestors for long periods and to layer multiple stringent legal provisions upon them risks sending a chilling message against the right to dissent itself.

Reports suggest that the protesters have been charged under various sections of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita relating to unlawful assembly, obstruction of public servants in the discharge of duty, and disturbing public order. In some instances, allegations of criminal conspiracy have reportedly been invoked. If so, that is a grave escalation. Criminal conspiracy against the state is not a trivial accusation; it implies a coordinated attempt to subvert lawful authority, not merely to stage a symbolic protest.

We must ask ourselves: does a shirtless demonstration, however theatrical, amount to an assault on the sovereignty of the Republic? Or is it, rather, an expression — perhaps immature — of political dissent? There is no evidence that the protest was violent. There were no reports of vandalism, physical harm, or incitement to armed rebellion. The demonstrators were not wielding weapons; they were wielding slogans.

The Indian Constitution, under Article 19, guarantees the right to freedom of speech and expression and the right to assemble peaceably and without arms. These rights are not absolute; they are subject to reasonable restrictions in the interests of public order and security. But the emphasis must remain on “reasonable.” When the coercive apparatus of the state responds to symbolic protest with the full weight of criminal law, it risks conveying intolerance rather than authority. A mature state distinguishes between nuisance and insurrection. It calibrates its response proportionately.

We must also recognise the generational dimension. Youth movements have historically employed heightened symbolism. The students of 1968 in Paris, the anti-Vietnam demonstrators in Washington, and even participants in India’s JP movement used visual drama to convey urgency. Their methods unsettled the establishment of their day. But a confident democracy absorbs embarrassment. It responds with argument, not reflex incarceration. It counters with persuasion and measured prosecution unless there is clear and present danger to public safety.

None of this is to sanctify every mode of protest. Political actors, too, must reflect on the dignity of their methods. If they aspire to govern, they must learn that spectacle cannot substitute for substance. But the greater responsibility lies with those who wield power. A democracy confident in its mandate does not perceive every slogan as sedition.

In the final analysis, the question is not whether the protest was tasteful. It is whether our republic can accommodate peaceful — even if provocative — dissent without reaching reflexively for the harshest instruments of law. Democracy is not a porcelain vase to be shielded from every jolt, but a living organism that grows stronger through contestation.