From childhood, we are told many things that don't always match reality. One of those is the idea that we come from a society where abusive language is considered unacceptable and people are expected to speak politely at all times.
But the reality is quite different.
Abusive words have become a part of everyday conversation in many parts of India. Visit almost any village, and you'll find men, women, and even children using them casually. Go to a city like Banaras, and you'll notice that people often don't even think twice before using cuss words in normal conversations. In Delhi-NCR, many conversations almost seem incomplete without a swear word added for emphasis.
Similarly, in parts of Uttar Pradesh, especially in Awadhi-speaking regions, words like "chutiya" are often not even treated as serious abuses. They are casually used to describe someone who is foolish or lacking common sense, rather than as a deeply offensive insult.
That is why I find it ironic when we suddenly start portraying ourselves as an exceptionally pure, sacred, and morally perfect society.
So why am I talking about this?
Because every now and then we see a powerful public figure complaining that people abused him, used cuss words against him, or even abused his mother. Suddenly, the entire public debate shifts from the issue being protested to the language used by the protesters.
But when people protest against those in authority, using satire, derogatory slogans, caricatures, and even cuss words has been a common feature of political protest across democracies around the world. Whether we personally like that style or not, it has existed for generations.
History has repeatedly shown that when power wraps itself in the cloak of divinity, reverence becomes its greatest shield—and ridicule becomes its greatest threat. During the French Revolution, the French monarchy had spent centuries cultivating the belief that the king ruled by God's will and stood above ordinary people. The revolutionaries understood that no throne could fall until its sacred image was shattered.
So they launched an assault not just on the monarchy, but on its mythology. Pamphlets, caricatures, and even deliberately obscene illustrations flooded the streets of France. King Louis XVI was mocked as a weak, incompetent ruler incapable of leading his nation. Queen Marie Antoinette was portrayed as morally corrupt, sexually promiscuous, extravagantly wasteful, and indifferent to the suffering of ordinary people. Other prints depicted the royal family in degrading, undignified, and deeply humiliating situations—images specifically designed to strip away the aura of divine authority and expose them as flawed, ordinary human beings. Many of these depictions were exaggerated, sensational, or entirely fabricated, but historical accuracy was never their primary purpose. Their purpose was psychological: to replace fear with laughter, reverence with contempt, and unquestioning obedience with public defiance.
The strategy worked because power survives not only through laws and armies, but through the image people hold of it. The moment the king ceased to appear as God's chosen representative and became the subject of ridicule in the public imagination, the psychological foundation of absolute monarchy began to crack. History reminds us that before every mighty throne falls, its aura of unquestionable sanctity must first be broken.
Take the United States as an example. During protests against Donald Trump, people used extremely harsh language, insulting imagery, and strong satire. Yet I did not see authorities launching widespread witch hunts against ordinary citizens simply for using offensive language, nor did I see television channels demanding arrests merely because someone used a cuss word against a political leader.
My real problem with abusive language begins when it comes from those in power.
It becomes far more serious when authorities themselves use abusive language against ordinary citizens. For example, during the Delhi protests, there were reports and allegations that some male police personnel used abusive language against women protesters and threatened to tear their clothes. If such conduct occurs, it represents a serious abuse of authority because the state is expected to protect citizens, not intimidate them.
The problem also becomes serious when coordinated campaigns are run by political IT cells, sections of the media, or influential supporters against an individual. We have seen instances where people have alleged receiving rape threats, death threats, and sustained online harassment. Whether one looks at the media treatment of Rhea Chakraborty or the recent controversy involving Ruchika, these kinds of coordinated campaigns are far more dangerous than an ordinary citizen using a cuss word in anger during a protest.
That is what concerns me.
Otherwise, let's be honest with ourselves. We have already normalized abusive language in our everyday lives. It is spoken casually in homes, on streets, among friends, and across social groups. Pretending that we are suddenly a society of perfect manners only when politics is involved is deeply hypocritical.
Instead of selective moral policing over words, we should be asking a more important question: Who is using their power to silence, intimidate, or harass others?
Because there is a world of difference between a citizen shouting a cuss word at a politician during a protest and those in positions of power using their authority—or encouraging others—to target ordinary people.
Let's stop pretending that profanity is the biggest threat to our society. Hypocrisy and the misuse of power deserve far greater attention.
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