The Selective Lens of Hindu Nationalism: Ignoring Dalit Oppression in Historical Narratives

 

The Selective Lens of Hindu Nationalism: Ignoring Dalit Oppression in Historical Narratives

Hindu nationalism in India often constructs its identity around a selective reading of history, emphasizing perceived injustices inflicted by Muslim rulers while sidelining the deep-rooted and millennia-long oppression of Dalits within Hindu society. This selective historical narrative serves a political purpose but distorts the broader reality of India’s social history, particularly the systemic discrimination faced by Dalits under caste hierarchies that predate and outlast any external rule. By focusing almost exclusively on Hindu-Muslim conflicts, Hindu nationalists conveniently evade accountability for the internal structural violence perpetuated by upper-caste Hindus against Dalits, a practice that has persisted for over two millennia.

The Hindu Nationalist Historical Narrative

Hindu nationalism, as propagated by organizations like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and its affiliates, often portrays Indian history as a saga of Hindu victimhood under Muslim rule, particularly during the Mughal era. This narrative highlights events like temple destructions or forced conversions, framing Muslims as perpetual aggressors against a monolithic Hindu identity. While historical instances of conflict between Hindu and Muslim rulers are undeniable, this framing deliberately oversimplifies India’s complex past, ignoring the diversity of Hindu society and its internal hierarchies.

What is conspicuously absent from this narrative is any acknowledgment of the caste system’s role in oppressing millions of Dalits, who were relegated to the margins of society long before the arrival of Muslim rulers. By fixating on external “invaders,” Hindu nationalists deflect attention from the internal systemic injustices that have defined Hindu social order for centuries.

The Millennia-Long Oppression of Dalits

The caste system, deeply embedded in Hindu social and religious practices, has systematically marginalized Dalits (formerly referred to as “untouchables”) for over two thousand years. Ancient texts like the Manusmriti codified discriminatory practices, prescribing harsh punishments for lower castes who dared to transgress their assigned roles. Dalits were deemed impure, their touch or even shadow considered polluting by upper-caste Hindus. These beliefs were not isolated but institutionalized, shaping social interactions, economic opportunities, and religious access.

Historical accounts, such as those by the Chinese traveler Faxian (Fa-Hsien) during the Gupta period (4th–6th century CE), describe the plight of the Chandalas, a lower-caste group forced to live outside villages and announce their presence to avoid “polluting” others. This is not a relic of the distant past; discriminatory practices persisted into the modern era. Dalits were barred from temples, forbidden from drawing water from village wells, and subjected to humiliating customs like the “breast tax” in parts of South India, where lower-caste women were forced to pay to cover their bodies. These practices were not imposed by Muslim rulers but were enforced by upper-caste Hindus, who held social and religious authority.

Even today, the legacy of caste oppression endures. Manual scavenging, a dehumanizing practice where individuals (overwhelmingly Dalits) clean human waste from dry latrines, remains a stark reminder of caste-based exploitation. Despite legal bans, reports estimate that over 1.3 million Dalits are still engaged in this work, facing social stigma and health risks. Hindu nationalist discourse rarely addresses these modern injustices, focusing instead on historical grievances against Muslims or contemporary issues like “love jihad.”

Why Hindu Nationalists Avoid the Dalit Question

The reluctance of Hindu nationalists to confront caste oppression stems from both ideological and strategic considerations. Ideologically, their vision of a unified Hindu identity requires downplaying internal divisions like caste, which fracture the notion of a cohesive “Hindu nation.” Acknowledging the historical and ongoing oppression of Dalits would force a reckoning with the role of upper-caste Hindus in perpetuating this system, undermining the narrative of Hindu victimhood.

Strategically, Hindu nationalism relies on mobilizing a broad Hindu voter base, including Dalits, to counter perceived threats from minorities. Admitting the historical guilt of upper-caste oppression risks alienating Dalit communities, who have increasingly asserted their rights through movements inspired by leaders like Dr. B.R. Ambedkar. Instead, Hindu nationalist rhetoric often co-opts Dalit identity, portraying them as part of the Hindu fold while ignoring their specific grievances. This tokenism is evident in the selective celebration of Ambedkar as a Hindu icon, while his critiques of caste and Hinduism are conveniently ignored.

The Consequences of Selective History

This selective reading of history has profound implications. By focusing on Muslim oppression while ignoring caste-based atrocities, Hindu nationalists perpetuate a distorted understanding of India’s past that fuels communal tensions. This narrative not only marginalizes Dalits but also erases the contributions of lower-caste reformers who fought against caste oppression, from Jyotirao Phule to Periyar.

Moreover, it distracts from addressing contemporary issues like manual scavenging, caste-based violence, and discrimination in education and employment. According to a 2020 report by the National Campaign on Dalit Human Rights, over 40% of Dalit households in rural India still face untouchability practices, such as being denied access to public spaces or services. These are not relics of a distant past but ongoing realities that Hindu nationalist discourse sidesteps.

Toward a More Honest Historical Reckoning

A balanced understanding of Indian history requires acknowledging both external conflicts and internal injustices. The oppression of Dalits is not a peripheral issue but a central feature of India’s social history, one that predates and outlasts Muslim rule. Hindu nationalists must confront the uncomfortable truth that upper-caste Hindus were complicit in a system that dehumanized millions for millennia. Only by addressing this can India move toward a more inclusive national identity that honors all its citizens.

This is not to diminish the complexities of Hindu-Muslim relations or the historical realities of invasions and conquests. But a singular focus on one form of oppression while ignoring another is not just selective — it’s dishonest. True nationalism should uplift the marginalized, not erase their suffering. Until Hindu nationalists engage with the full spectrum of India’s history, including the painful legacy of caste, their vision of a unified nation will remain incomplete.

The Role of Hindu Nationalism in Shaping India's Global Image: A Cycle of Misrepresentation and Prejudice

 India, a nation celebrated for its cultural diversity and historical richness, has increasingly faced accusations of racism and stereotyping abroad. While these perceptions are often rooted in misinformation and generalizations, they are exacerbated by specific actions and ideologies within India, particularly those associated with Hindu nationalism. The propagation of practices like consuming cow urine and dung, alongside the suppression of minorities, especially Muslims, has fueled cringe-worthy narratives that dominate foreign media and social platforms. These elements, amplified by viral videos and news reports, contribute significantly to the negative stereotyping of Indians as a whole, despite such behaviors being far from representative of the country's 1.4 billion people.

Hindu Nationalism and the Cow Worship Narrative

Hindu nationalism, often encapsulated under the ideology of Hindutva, promotes a vision of India as a Hindu-centric nation. This ideology, championed by groups like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and its political affiliate, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), has led to the aggressive promotion of practices tied to Hindu religious traditions, including the veneration of cows. While cow worship is a legitimate aspect of Hindu culture for many, the fringe practice of consuming cow urine (gomutra) and dung has been sensationalized by Hindu nationalist groups as a health cure or spiritual ritual.

In January 2025, a controversy erupted when the director of IIT Madras, V. Kamakoti, commented on the medicinal properties of cow urine, sparking a debate among scientists. The Hindu reported that while the research was merely an analysis of bovine urine, its promotion as a health benefit was criticized by experts like Dipshikha Chakravortty, who warned that consuming any urine is "detrimental and dangerous". Similarly, in April 2025, the principal of Delhi University’s Laxmibai College faced backlash after sharing a video of classroom walls being coated with cow dung to "beat the heat," a move that went viral and drew mockery online. One X user sarcastically remarked, “If drinking cow urine is made compulsory in colleges, then no one can stop the country from becoming a Vishwa Guru,” highlighting the ridicule such actions invite.

These incidents are not isolated. In August 2023, Union Minister Parshottam Rupala suggested that cattle owners could profit from selling cow urine and dung, further mainstreaming these practices. Such endorsements from public figures lend credibility to fringe behaviors, which are then amplified by social media. Videos of Hindu nationalists consuming cow urine or promoting dung-based products have become fodder for foreign content creators, who use them to paint Indians as backward or superstitious. A 2024 report by The Wire noted that such practices are often mocked globally, contributing to a narrative that all Indians engage in these rituals.

International Incidents and the Amplification of Stereotypes

The global reach of these practices has been further highlighted by incidents involving Indian travelers. In 2019, The Times of India reported that Indian passengers were detained at international airports, including in the United States and Australia, for carrying cow dung cakes and bottles of cow urine in their luggage. These items, often intended for religious or medicinal use, violated biosecurity laws and led to headlines like “Indian Passengers Caught Smuggling Cow Dung” in foreign tabloids. Such stories, while affecting a minuscule fraction of travelers, are disproportionately amplified by foreign media, reinforcing stereotypes about Indian hygiene and cultural practices.

Social media platforms like YouTube and TikTok have worsened this trend. Videos titled “Indians Drink Cow Urine” or “Cow Dung Medicine in India” garner millions of views, often posted by foreign influencers who cherry-pick extreme examples to generate clicks. A 2023 analysis by The Hindu noted that such content, devoid of context, shapes foreign perceptions, leading to comments like “This is why India will never progress” or “All Indians are cow worshippers”. These generalizations ignore that the majority of Indians, including Hindus, do not engage in these practices, but the damage is done when such content goes viral.

Suppression of Minorities and Its Global Fallout

Beyond cultural practices, the suppression of minorities, particularly Muslims, under Hindu nationalist policies has provided further ammunition for foreign critics. Since the BJP came to power in 2014, reports of anti-Muslim violence and discriminatory policies have surged. A 2025 report by India Hate Lab documented a 74% increase in anti-minority hate speech in 2024, with 75% of incidents occurring in BJP-ruled states. The report highlighted conspiracy theories like “love jihad,” which falsely claim Muslim men seduce Hindu women to convert them, as tools to demonize Muslims. Such rhetoric has led to vigilante violence, including lynchings over alleged cow slaughter, as noted in a 2024 Journal of Democracy article comparing Hindu nationalist tactics to Jim Crow-era oppression.

High-profile policies like the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the Waqf Amendment Bill have also drawn international condemnation. The CAA, which fast-tracks citizenship for non-Muslim refugees while excluding Muslims, was criticized by the Council on Foreign Relations as discriminatory. In March 2025, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin condemned the Waqf Bill as “severely harming the rights of the Muslim community,” accusing the BJP of “systematic discrimination”. These policies, coupled with events like the 2002 Gujarat riots under then-Chief Minister Narendra Modi, have cemented India’s image in some foreign circles as a nation hostile to minorities. A 2024 Salon article warned that Modi’s Hindu nationalist agenda threatens not just India’s Muslims but also global perceptions of India, as Indian-American communities advocating for the BJP inadvertently legitimize this narrative.

Foreign media outlets like Al Jazeera and CBC News have extensively covered these issues, often framing India as a hotbed of religious intolerance. A 2024 Al Jazeera report noted that the Indian government’s blocking of India Hate Lab’s website under the IT Act signaled an attempt to suppress evidence of anti-Muslim hate. Such actions reinforce perceptions of India as an authoritarian state, further fueling anti-Indian sentiment. On platforms like X, posts criticizing Modi’s policies, such as one from April 2025 stating that “Hindutva has grown more radical under Modi, targeting minorities,” reflect global unease.

The Cycle of Misrepresentation and Racism

The combination of sensationalized cultural practices and minority suppression creates a vicious cycle. Hindu nationalist actions—whether promoting cow-based rituals or enacting discriminatory policies—generate domestic controversy that is picked up by international media. These stories are then exaggerated or decontextualized, leading to racist tropes about Indians being “cow fetishists” or “religious extremists.” A 2025 Firstpost article lamented that the “instantaneous dissemination of images of attacks on Hindus” fails to garner sympathy, while negative stereotypes dominate. This selective outrage means that while Hindu nationalists may intend to assert cultural pride, they inadvertently invite mockery and prejudice.

Foreign perceptions are further skewed by a lack of nuance. A 2024 BBC report on migration noted that Hindus make up 80% of India’s population but only 41% of its emigrants, while Muslims are overrepresented among emigrants due to discrimination. This suggests that minorities face pressures that drive them abroad, yet foreign narratives often lump all Indians together, ignoring the diversity of experiences. The result is a blanket racism that targets Indians regardless of their beliefs, as seen in online comments calling Indians “dirty” or “backward” based on cow-related content.

Breaking the Cycle

To counter this, India must address the root causes of these perceptions. Hindu nationalist groups need to recognize that promoting fringe practices like cow urine consumption invites global ridicule, overshadowing India’s scientific and cultural achievements. The government must also curb hate speech and violence against minorities, as these not only violate India’s secular ethos but also provide fodder for anti-Indian propaganda. A 2024 The Hindu report on AI misuse highlighted how technology disproportionately targets Muslims and Dalits, suggesting that ethical governance is crucial to improving India’s image.

Moreover, Indians abroad can play a role by challenging stereotypes and showcasing the nation’s diversity. Community leaders should counter the influence of BJP-aligned diaspora groups that amplify Hindutva abroad, as noted in a 2025 Al Jazeera article. Finally, foreign media and influencers must be held accountable for perpetuating racist tropes without context, as their selective reporting fuels prejudice.

Conclusion

The racism India faces globally is not a vacuum but a reflection of specific actions amplified out of proportion. Hindu nationalist practices like promoting cow urine and dung, combined with the suppression of minorities, provide easy targets for foreign critics. While these behaviors are not representative of most Indians, their visibility—through viral videos, news reports, and travel incidents—shapes a distorted narrative. By addressing these issues domestically and advocating for a more nuanced global discourse, India can begin to dismantle the stereotypes that fuel anti-Indian racism, reclaiming its image as a diverse and dynamic nation.

The Fragile Pride of Nationalism: A Reflection on India’s New Wave

The Fragile Pride of Nationalism: A Reflection on India’s New Wave

Nationalism is a curious thing. It’s a fire that warms some and burns others, a banner waved with fervor by those who believe it defines them. In India today, a new wave of nationalists has emerged — louder, prouder, and more assertive than ever. From saffron flags dotting the skyline to social media timelines brimming with slogans like “Bharat Mata Ki Jai,” this resurgence feels both intoxicating and inescapable. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder: what’s the point of pride in something you didn’t choose?

Let’s start with a simple truth: none of us picked India — or any country — as our birthplace. I didn’t sit in some cosmic waiting room, flipping through a catalog of nations, weighing the pros and cons of monsoon seasons versus maple syrup. I was born here, in this sprawling, chaotic, beautiful mess of a country, because that’s where the dice of fate landed. So were you, probably. And yet, nationalism asks us to take this accident of geography and turn it into a cornerstone of identity, a source of chest-thumping pride. It’s like bragging about your eye color or the shape of your nose — arbitrary traits handed to you by a lottery you didn’t enter.

In India, this new wave of nationalism often cloaks itself in history and heritage. The argument goes that we must honor the sacrifices of those who fought for independence, that we owe it to our ancestors to protect the idea of “Bharat.” Fair enough — gratitude for the past is noble. But what begins as reverence quickly morphs into something else: a demand for conformity, a rejection of dissent, and an us-versus-them mentality that feels less like unity and more like division. The nationalists of today aren’t just celebrating India — they’re gatekeeping it, deciding who gets to belong and who doesn’t. If you question the script, you’re a traitor. If you point out flaws, you’re anti-national. It’s a brittle kind of pride, one that crumbles under scrutiny.

The irony is that nationalism thrives on the very randomness it ignores. India’s borders, like those of most nations, are the product of history’s messy scribbles — colonial conquests, partitions, and treaties drawn by people long dead. The idea of “India” as a sacred, eternal entity is a modern construct, not a timeless truth. And yet, we’re told to treat it as sacrosanct, to pledge our loyalty to a concept that’s younger than some of our grandparents. Why? Because we happened to be born within these lines on a map? That’s not a reason — it’s a coincidence.

This isn’t to say there’s nothing worth loving about India. The diversity of languages, the resilience of its people, the sheer audacity of its democracy — these are real, tangible things. But they don’t need nationalism to shine. In fact, nationalism often dims them, flattening a kaleidoscope of cultures into a single, monochrome narrative. The new wave in India loves to talk about “one nation, one identity,” but what does that even mean in a country where every state feels like a different world? Forcing unity through pride risks erasing the very things that make India worth caring about.

And then there’s the practical side. While nationalists wave flags and chant slogans, the birth lottery keeps spinning. Some Indians are born into privilege — urban, educated, connected — while others land in villages without clean water or schools. If we’re so proud of our nation, why aren’t we angrier about that gap? Nationalism often feels like a distraction, a way to rally people around an abstract idea instead of fixing the concrete problems staring us in the face. It’s easier to blame outsiders or “anti-nationals” than to admit that the system we’re so proud of fails millions of its own.

The more I see of the world, the more nationalism feels like a relic — a story we tell ourselves to feel special in a universe that doesn’t care. People are starting to notice. Travel, the internet, and global crises like climate change are peeling back the illusion of borders. We’re all just humans, products of chance, trying to make sense of our little corner of the planet. The pride of nationalism falls apart when you realize how little control you had over the thing you’re proud of. It’s like a child boasting about a toy they were given — cute, but ultimately meaningless.

India’s new nationalists might disagree. They’ll say I’m missing the point, that pride in nationhood binds us together, gives us purpose. Maybe. But I’d rather find purpose in what we choose — our actions, our kindness, our efforts to build something better — than in the accident of where we were born. The flags can wave, the slogans can echo, but at the end of the day, they’re just noise. True strength doesn’t come from shouting about the lottery you won — it comes from what you do with the hand you’re dealt.