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.

How Indians Can Use the Socratic Method

 In a country as diverse as India, religion holds a significant place in the lives of many. It shapes our culture, traditions, and even our daily decisions. However, it’s also true that many religious beliefs are often followed without much questioning, passed down through generations as a matter of tradition. The Socratic method, an approach that promotes critical thinking and self-reflection through questioning, can be an effective tool for encouraging individuals to examine their religious beliefs more deeply.

The Socratic method involves asking thoughtful questions that encourage individuals to reflect on their beliefs, explore their reasons for holding them, and recognize any inconsistencies. This method doesn’t aim to ridicule or attack people’s faiths but to help them understand why they believe what they believe and whether their beliefs stand up to scrutiny. Here’s how Indians can use the Socratic method to question religion:

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1. Ask Open-ended Questions

The Socratic method begins with open-ended questions that don’t have simple “yes” or “no” answers. These questions encourage people to think critically about their beliefs.

Example:
“What makes you believe that this religious teaching is the truth?”
“Have you ever thought about why this belief is considered sacred? What makes it different from other beliefs?”

By asking these types of questions, you prompt others to reflect on their religious beliefs more deeply, moving beyond the surface level of tradition or cultural upbringing.

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2. Encourage People to Clarify Their Beliefs

Once someone shares a belief, it’s important to ask them to clarify their reasoning. This forces the individual to articulate their thought process, which can reveal any gaps or contradictions in their beliefs.

Example:
“Can you explain why you think this particular tradition is true? What makes this belief stand out from others?”

By asking for clarification, you help others critically examine the foundation of their beliefs. Sometimes, people may realize that they’ve never questioned the reasons behind their religious practices or ideas.

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3. Challenge Assumptions Gently

The Socratic method involves asking questions that challenge the assumptions underlying a person’s beliefs. Rather than outright rejecting the belief, you encourage them to reflect on whether the assumptions are valid.

Example:
“If this religious text is truly divine, why do different religions have different interpretations of what is sacred? How do we determine which one is the ‘true’ teaching?”

These types of questions encourage individuals to explore the possibility that their beliefs might not be as absolute or universal as they might have assumed.

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4. Ask About the Consequences of Beliefs

Helping people think about the real-world consequences of their beliefs can lead to self-reflection. Asking about the implications of a belief can sometimes reveal uncomfortable truths or inconsistencies.

Example:
“If everyone followed this religious teaching, how would it impact the way we interact with people from other faiths?”
“How would society look if we applied this belief in all situations? Would it lead to peace or conflict?”

These questions can lead to meaningful discussions about the practical effects of religious beliefs on society and personal behavior, sometimes making individuals reconsider extreme or harmful interpretations.

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5. Explore the Role of Faith vs. Evidence

Faith often plays a key role in religious beliefs, but it’s important to ask whether faith is enough to justify a belief or whether other forms of evidence should be considered.

Example:
“Is it possible that some beliefs are accepted purely on faith, without any concrete evidence to support them? How do you distinguish between faith-based beliefs and those supported by reason or evidence?”

This can help individuals reflect on whether their beliefs are grounded in empirical evidence or if they are simply accepted due to tradition or authority.

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6. Prompt Self-Examination of Doubts

Many people have doubts about certain aspects of their religion but may be afraid to voice them. By using the Socratic method, you can help individuals explore these doubts in a safe, non-judgmental way.

Example:
“Have you ever questioned any of the teachings or practices in your religion? Why or why not?”
“Is there anything about your religious tradition that doesn’t quite make sense to you?”

This allows the individual to recognize and address any doubts they may have, leading to a more honest and open conversation about their beliefs.

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7. Be Patient and Respectful

It’s important to remember that the Socratic method is not about winning an argument but about encouraging open reflection. People may not be ready to change their views immediately, and that’s okay. The goal is to spark curiosity and allow them to explore their beliefs more deeply.

Example:
“I’m just curious to understand your perspective better. I’d love to hear more about why you believe this.”

Respecting the other person’s viewpoint while gently encouraging critical thinking helps keep the conversation constructive, not confrontational.

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8. Avoid Personal Attacks or Insults

The Socratic method should never be used to belittle or attack someone’s faith. It’s about promoting reflection and understanding, not judgment. People are more likely to engage in meaningful dialogue when they feel respected and heard.

Example:
Instead of saying, “Your religion is wrong,” you could say, “That’s interesting. What led you to this conclusion? Have you considered this perspective?”

By keeping the conversation respectful and focused on understanding rather than winning, you create an environment where people feel safe to explore their beliefs.

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Conclusion

The Socratic method is a powerful tool for encouraging self-reflection and critical thinking about religious beliefs. By asking thoughtful, open-ended questions, challenging assumptions, and promoting respectful dialogue, you can help others examine their religious beliefs more deeply. This method fosters understanding, tolerance, and a willingness to question long-held beliefs—leading to more thoughtful and introspective individuals.

In a diverse country like India, where religion plays such an influential role, using the Socratic method can be a constructive way to promote open-mindedness and understanding, allowing individuals to examine their beliefs and perhaps come to new insights about the world around them.

The Unintended Consequences of Hate Speech in India: How Division is Fueling Conservatism Among Indian Muslims

 

The Unintended Consequences of Hate Speech in India: How Division is Fueling Conservatism Among Indian Muslims

In recent years, India has witnessed a troubling rise in hate speech, particularly targeting Muslims, driven largely by far-right Hindu nationalist groups. Since 2014, this rhetoric has intensified, with inflammatory speeches, social media campaigns, and public demonstrations painting Muslims as outsiders or threats to the nation’s fabric. The intended effect, presumably, was to marginalize and weaken the Muslim community. However, the outcome has been strikingly different: rather than fracturing Muslims, this wave of hostility has fostered greater unity and a return to conservatism among them. Simultaneously, this cycle of hate is amplifying tensions across communities, creating a dangerous atmosphere that could spiral into mass violence if left unchecked.

A Shift Toward Unity and Conservatism

Before 2014, many Indian Muslims, particularly in urban and progressive circles, embraced a more relaxed approach to their faith. Missing the occasional namaz, skipping a few rozas during Ramadan, or adopting liberal lifestyles were not uncommon. However, the relentless vilification of Muslims by far-right groups has triggered a profound shift. The constant portrayal of Muslims as a monolithic “other” has instilled a sense of existential threat, prompting even the most liberal Muslims to reevaluate their identity and practices.

Mosques that once saw sparse attendance are now bustling with worshippers. Ramadan, the holy month of fasting, has become a period of near-universal observance, with even those who once skipped rozas now adhering strictly to the fast. This isn’t merely about religious devotion; it’s a response to a perceived siege. When a community feels targeted, it often turns inward, seeking strength in shared identity and traditions. For Muslims, this has meant a return to orthodoxy, as religious practices become symbols of resilience and defiance against those seeking to erode their place in Indian society.

This phenomenon is not unique to Muslims. Historically, marginalized groups under attack — whether religious, ethnic, or cultural — tend to consolidate their identity as a form of self-preservation. In India, the Muslim community’s growing conservatism is a direct reaction to the insecurity fostered by hate speech and discriminatory policies. Far from weakening them, the far-right’s rhetoric has inadvertently unified Muslims across class, region, and ideological lines.

The Vicious Cycle of Hate

The dynamics of hate speech in India don’t end with one community’s response. It’s a vicious cycle where each act of provocation fuels a counter-reaction, amplifying communal tensions. When a Hindu nationalist leader delivers a hate-filled speech targeting Muslims, it quickly circulates within Muslim communities, sparking outrage. In response, some Muslims may retaliate with inflammatory rhetoric of their own, targeting Hindus. These clips then make their way into Hindu nationalist circles, further stoking anger and justifying more hate speech. It’s akin to the conservation of energy, except the energy doesn’t remain constant — it grows with each exchange, pushing both sides toward greater polarization.

Social media has been a key accelerant in this process. Platforms like WhatsApp, X, and YouTube allow provocative content to spread rapidly, reaching millions within hours. A single viral video of a hate speech can ignite passions, deepen mistrust, and harden divisions. What begins as a localized incident — a politician’s divisive remark or a communal clash — can snowball into a national issue, with each community feeling more aggrieved and emboldened to retaliate.

A Ticking Time Bomb

This atmosphere of mutual distrust and escalating rhetoric is a ticking time bomb for India. A nation as diverse as India thrives on coexistence, but the current trajectory is eroding the social fabric that holds it together. The amplification of hate speech risks normalizing communal violence, as charged rhetoric can easily spill over into physical confrontations. History offers grim warnings: from the partition riots of 1947 to the Gujarat riots of 2002, India has seen how quickly communal tensions can escalate into widespread bloodshed.

The long-term consequences of this polarization are dire. A divided society cannot progress economically, socially, or culturally. Trust between communities, once broken, takes generations to rebuild. Moreover, the growing conservatism among Muslims — and, in parallel, the increasing assertiveness of Hindu nationalist identity — could lead to a more fragmented India, where dialogue and mutual understanding become relics of the past.

The Role of Political Myopia

At the heart of this crisis lies the short-sightedness of political leaders. For many, hate speech is a calculated tool to consolidate votes by appealing to communal sentiments. The immediate payoff — electoral success — blinds them to the long-term damage they are inflicting on India’s social cohesion. Politicians on all sides, whether stoking Hindu nationalist fervor or exploiting Muslim grievances, are playing a dangerous game. Their rhetoric may win elections, but it is sowing the seeds of discord that could destabilize the nation for decades.

What these leaders fail to grasp is that peace and stability are the bedrock of progress. A nation consumed by communal strife cannot attract investment, foster innovation, or ensure the well-being of its citizens. By prioritizing votes over harmony, they are gambling with India’s future.

A Path Forward

Breaking this cycle of hate requires urgent action from all stakeholders — politicians, civil society, media, and citizens. First, hate speech must be unequivocally condemned and penalized, regardless of the community it targets. Laws against incitement exist, but their enforcement is often inconsistent or politically motivated. Strengthening and depoliticizing these mechanisms is critical.

Second, social media platforms must take greater responsibility for curbing the spread of divisive content. Algorithms that amplify sensationalist and hateful material need to be reined in, and stricter moderation policies enforced.

Finally, fostering interfaith dialogue and community engagement is essential. Grassroots initiatives that bring Hindus, Muslims, and other communities together can rebuild trust and counter the narrative of division. Education, too, plays a vital role — curriculums that emphasize India’s pluralistic heritage can shape a generation less susceptible to communal propaganda.

Conclusion

The far-right’s campaign of hate against Muslims has backfired, uniting and strengthening the very community it sought to weaken. But this unity, born of fear and defiance, comes at a cost. The growing conservatism among Muslims, coupled with the escalating cycle of communal rhetoric, is pushing India toward a dangerous precipice. If left unchecked, this polarization could unleash violence and division on an unprecedented scale. It’s time for India’s leaders and citizens to recognize the stakes and work toward a future where unity, not hate, defines the nation. The alternative is a fractured India, where no one wins.

Beneath India’s Communal Clashes Lies a Class War

 India’s story is often told as a saga of religious and caste conflicts: Hindu versus Muslim, upper caste versus lower caste. These divisions dominate political debates, ignite riots, and shape national identity. Yet, peel back the layers, and a different picture emerges. At their core, these communal tensions are class struggles—pitting landless workers against wealthy landowners. From the Faraizi Movement in the 19th century to the Kashmiri Muslim unrest in recent decades, modern Indian history reveals that what we call identity conflicts are often battles over economic power, masked by the rhetoric of faith or tradition.

Land: The Root of Power and Conflict

In India, land has always been the ultimate currency. Under British colonialism, the zamindari system entrenched a small elite—often upper-caste Hindus or privileged Muslims—as landlords, while millions of peasants, regardless of religion or caste, were reduced to tenants or laborers. Independence in 1947 promised change, but land reforms faltered, leaving the divide intact. Today, a tiny fraction of the population—frequently from dominant castes or communities—controls most arable land, while the landless, often Dalits, OBCs, or marginalized Muslims, scrape by as wage workers. This economic chasm fuels communal friction, with religion and caste serving as convenient scapegoats.

The Faraizi Movement: Peasants vs. Landlords

Consider the Faraizi Movement in 19th-century Bengal (now Bangladesh and parts of West Bengal). Led by Haji Shariatullah and later his son Dudu Miyan, this Muslim reformist movement is often framed as a religious uprising against Hindu landlords and British rule. But its roots were economic. The Faraizis mobilized landless Muslim peasants and small farmers against oppressive zamindars—many of whom were Hindu but some Muslim—whose exorbitant rents and taxes left tenants destitute. The movement’s call for social equality and refusal to pay illegal levies wasn’t just about faith; it was a revolt against a landowning class exploiting the rural poor. Communal tensions flared, but the real divide was between the haves and have-nots.

Kerala’s Namboodiri Brahmins: Caste as Class

Fast forward to 20th-century Kerala, where the Namboodiri Brahmins offer another lens. As the state’s traditional upper caste, Namboodiris monopolized land ownership, controlling vast estates worked by lower-caste tenants like the Ezhavas and Pulayas. Their caste privilege—tied to rituals and social exclusion—was inseparable from their economic dominance. By the 1920s and ’30s, lower-caste reform movements, often led by figures like Sree Narayana Guru, challenged this hierarchy. These struggles were framed as caste conflicts, but they were equally about land and labor. The landless demanded rights to property and fair wages, clashing with Namboodiri landlords who clung to both caste status and economic power. Kerala’s eventual land reforms in the 1950s and ’60s—redistributing land to tenants—weakened this nexus, proving that resolving class disparities could ease communal divides.

Kashmiri Muslims: Land and Rebellion

In Kashmir, the Hindu-Muslim divide is a global headline, but class underpins the story. Under the Dogra monarchy (1846–1947), Hindu Rajputs ruled as a landowning elite, while the majority Muslim population—mostly peasants—worked their fields under crushing taxes and forced labor (begar). The 1931 uprising, often cited as a communal clash sparked by a desecrated mosque, was as much a peasant revolt against feudal landlords. Post-independence, Sheikh Abdullah’s land reforms in the 1950s abolished large estates without compensation, transferring land to Muslim tillers—a move hailed by the poor but resented by the old elite, some of whom framed it as a Muslim power grab. Even today, unrest in Kashmir reflects economic grievances: landless youth, unemployed or underpaid, fuel militancy, while wealthier classes—across religions—benefit from stability. The communal lens obscures this class fault line.

The Mandal Moment: Caste Meets Class

The 1990s Mandal Commission protests—pitting upper castes against OBCs over job and education quotas—seem like a caste war. But look closer. Upper castes, historically landowning and educated, feared losing their economic edge to OBCs, many of whom were landless or small farmers seeking upward mobility. In states like Bihar, where upper-caste landlords long dominated rural power, OBC assertions (backed by leaders like Lalu Prasad Yadav) threatened not just social prestige but control over resources. Riots and rallies erupted, but the subtext was clear: the landless were challenging the landed, and caste was the battleground.

Why Communalism Persists

If class is the root, why does communalism dominate? The answer lies in manipulation. Elites—colonial rulers, post-independence politicians, even local landlords—have long weaponized identity to divide the poor. A landless Hindu laborer and a landless Muslim tenant share the same struggles—low wages, debt, hunger—but a rumor about a temple or cow can turn them into enemies. The 2002 Gujarat riots, branded as Hindu-Muslim violence, saw poor Muslims and Hindus die in droves, while property-owning elites largely escaped unscathed. Division protects the powerful; solidarity threatens them.

A Way Forward

To break this cycle, India must confront its class divide. Land reform—modeled on Kerala’s success—could redistribute wealth and weaken the landlord grip. Education, jobs, and credit for the landless would erode economic dependence, reducing the fuel for communal fires. But policy needs a new narrative: one that unites workers across caste and creed against entrenched privilege. Recent farmers’ protests, bridging Sikh, Hindu, and Muslim growers against corporate overreach, hint at this potential.

The Real Fight

India’s communal clashes—Hindu-Muslim, upper caste-lower caste—are visceral and complex. But they’re symptoms of a deeper war: the landless versus the landowners, the powerless versus the privileged. From the Faraizi peasants to Kashmiri rebels, from Namboodiri estates to Mandal streets, history shows the pattern. Reframing these conflicts as class struggles won’t erase their pain, but it might point to a solution—one where justice, not division, defines the future.

Does India’s Police Show Bias in Policing Social Media Religious Insults?

 A Look at FIRs for Insulting Hinduism vs. Islam—and What It Says About Enforcement

In a country where 80% of the population is Hindu and 15% Muslim, you’d expect social media to reflect that split. More Hindus, more posts, and—logically—more chances for someone to criticize Islam, right? If that’s true, police actions against those insulting Islam should outnumber cases against those targeting Hinduism. But in India, where religion and politics intertwine like monsoon vines, the reality might not match this simple math. So, let’s dig into the data—or at least what we can find of it—and see if the police are playing favorites when it comes to social media crackdowns.

The Legal Landscape

First, the basics. In India, posting something online that insults a religion can land you in hot water under laws like Section 153A (promoting enmity) or Section 295A (outraging religious feelings) of the Indian Penal Code. These aren’t new rules—they’ve been around since colonial times—but social media has turned them into a lightning rod. The National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) tracks hate speech cases, reporting 1,444 under Section 153A in 2022 alone, a 45% jump from the year before. But here’s the catch: the NCRB doesn’t break it down by religion targeted or whether it’s a tweet or a street rant. That leaves us piecing together the puzzle with news reports, court filings, and X posts.

Cases in the Spotlight

Let’s start with Hinduism. High-profile cases suggest police are quick to act when Hindu sentiments are on the line. Take Ratan Lal, a Delhi University professor, who in 2022 faced an FIR for a tweet about the Shivling in the Gyanvapi Mosque dispute. Or Rana Ayyub, a journalist ordered by a Delhi court in January 2025 to face an FIR for allegedly insulting Hindu deities online. X users have flagged other examples too—like a cartoonist booked for mocking Maa Durga or someone holding a “F**k Hindutva” placard. These cases often spark outrage from Hindu groups, and the police seem to follow through.

Now, flip the coin to Islam. There’s Tarak Biswas, a West Bengal blogger arrested in 2016 for criticizing Islam online, charged under multiple IPC sections. Or Aneesh, an ex-Muslim from Tamil Nadu, nabbed in 2022 for remarks about Prophet Muhammad (he got bail later). There’s also the “Mangalore Muslim” Facebook page, hit with an FIR in 2022 for derogatory content. These cases exist, but they feel less frequent—or at least less spotlighted—than those involving Hinduism.

The Numbers Game

Here’s where it gets tricky. Without NCRB data splitting FIRs by religion, we’re stuck with anecdotes and trends. The India Hate Lab reported 1,165 hate speech events in 2024, with 98.5% targeting Muslims, but that’s events—not FIRs—and includes offline incidents. Hate speech against Muslims is rampant, yet police action against those posting it doesn’t seem to match the volume. Compare that to the swift FIRs for Hinduism-related posts, and a pattern emerges: enforcement might lean toward protecting the majority’s feelings.

My initial hunch was that with 80% Hindus, posts bashing Islam would dominate, and police would crack down harder there. But the evidence suggests the opposite. Actions against Hinduism insults—especially by minorities or government critics—seem to get more attention. Take Mohammed Zubair, arrested for a satirical tweet seen as anti-Hindu, versus Nupur Sharma, booked but not arrested for remarks about Islam. The difference in treatment raises eyebrows.

Is There Bias?

Reports back this up. Human Rights Watch has flagged “systematic discrimination” against minorities, noting police often punish Muslim protesters while letting Hindu mobs off the hook. The Status of Policing in India Report 2025 found religious bias among officers, influenced by caste and politics too. In a country where the ruling BJP pushes a Hindu nationalist agenda, it’s not a stretch to see why police might prioritize Hindu sentiments. Delhi Police, for instance, have been called out for delaying action against Hindu leaders like Suresh Chavhanke, while jumping on cases like Zubair’s.

This doesn’t mean no one’s punished for insulting Islam—just that the scale and urgency seem uneven. It’s less about raw numbers (which we can’t fully pin down) and more about who’s targeted and how fast. Minorities criticizing Hinduism often face the brunt, while majority voices get more leeway.

What Does It Mean?

If police are tougher on posts insulting Hinduism despite the population suggesting otherwise, it flips my logic on its head. It’s not just about who’s posting more—it’s about who’s watching and who’s complaining. Hindu nationalist groups have muscle, and the state often aligns with them. That’s not a conspiracy; it’s politics meeting policing. The result? A system that might not reflect India’s diversity so much as its power dynamics.

This isn’t airtight—better data could shift the picture. But based on what’s out there, the police don’t seem neutral. They’re not just reacting to posts; they’re reflecting a broader bias. Next time you scroll X and see a religious spat, ask yourself: who’s more likely to face the cops? The answer might say more about India than the post itself.

Indian Politics: A Stage for Religious Drama, Not Much Else

 If you’ve ever tuned into the chaotic symphony of Indian politics, one thing becomes abundantly clear: religion isn’t just a subplot—it’s the entire script. From fiery speeches to street protests, the pulse of political discourse in India beats to the rhythm of communal tensions, hurt sentiments, and sacred cows (sometimes literally). Contrast this with a place like the United States, where people are currently up in arms over Trump’s proposed tariffs or socioeconomic policies, and you’ll see a stark divide. In India, it’s rare to see a protest that isn’t tethered to a temple, mosque, or a provocative remark about someone’s god. So, why is Indian politics so overwhelmingly consumed by religion, while the rest of the world seems to march for broader, more tangible causes?

The Indian Obsession with Religious Identity

Let’s start with a recent example. In February 2025, a politician’s offhand comment about a revered saint sparked outrage in Uttar Pradesh. Within hours, roads were blocked, effigies burned, and hashtags trended. The issue wasn’t unemployment, inflation, or crumbling infrastructure—it was a perceived slight to religious honor. This isn’t an anomaly; it’s the norm. Whether it’s the Babri Masjid-Ram Mandir saga, cow vigilantism, or debates over “love jihad,” Indian politics thrives on communal fault lines.

Compare that to the U.S., where protests in early 2025 have centered on Trump’s tariff threats against China and Mexico. Americans are worried about jobs, prices, and economic fallout—practical, bread-and-butter issues. Sure, religion pops up in U.S. politics, especially around abortion or LGBTQ+ rights, but it’s rarely the sole driver. Even in polarized times, the American public rallies around tax cuts, healthcare, or racial justice more than, say, a pastor’s sermon gone wrong.

In India, socioeconomic grievances—poverty, healthcare, education—exist in abundance, yet they’re sidelined. Protests over these issues, like the occasional farmer agitation, do happen, but they’re often overshadowed by the louder, more emotionally charged communal clashes. Why? Because religion in India isn’t just faith—it’s identity, history, and power, all rolled into one combustible package.

A Global Comparison: Protests with Purpose

Look beyond the U.S., and the contrast sharpens. In France, the Yellow Vest movement was about fuel prices and economic inequality. In Chile, mass demonstrations in 2019 erupted over subway fares and spiraled into demands for systemic reform. Even in authoritarian states like Russia, dissent often focuses on corruption or political repression, not just Orthodox Church dogma. These movements aren’t devoid of cultural or historical undertones, but they’re rooted in material concerns—things governments can measurably fix.

In India, though, the trigger is almost always symbolic. Someone insults a deity, a mosque loudspeaker blares too loudly, or a Bollywood film dares to reinterpret history—cue the outrage. The 2021 protests over the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) were a rare exception, blending socioeconomic fears with religious identity, but even then, the narrative quickly devolved into Hindu-Muslim binaries. It’s as if India’s political imagination can’t escape the gravitational pull of faith.

Why Religion Reigns Supreme in India

So, what’s driving this? History offers some clues. India’s partition in 1947 left scars that still bleed, embedding religious identity into the national psyche. Decades of vote-bank politics have only deepened the divide, with parties like the BJP, Congress, and regional players mastering the art of stoking communal fires for electoral gain. Add to that a diverse population—Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, and more—each with their own festivals, grievances, and pride, and you’ve got a tinderbox ready to ignite at the slightest spark.

Then there’s the media. Indian news channels thrive on sensationalism, amplifying every religious controversy into a national crisis. A U.S. network might spend days debating tariff impacts on the auto industry; in India, it’s wall-to-wall coverage of a cleric’s fatwa or a temple’s consecration. Social media, especially WhatsApp, pours fuel on the fire, spreading rumors faster than facts.

Contrast this with the U.S., where economic debates dominate because the nation’s founding myth is tied to individualism and prosperity, not divine mandate. India’s story, from ancient epics to colonial resistance, is steeped in spirituality—making it fertile ground for religious politics to flourish.

The Cost of a One-Note Democracy

This obsession comes at a price. While the world protests for jobs, climate action, or equality, India’s energy is spent policing sentiments. Infrastructure crumbles, unemployment soars, and healthcare lags, yet the spotlight stays on the next communal flare-up. It’s not that Indians don’t care about these issues—surveys consistently show economic concerns top voter priorities—but the political machinery keeps redirecting the conversation to faith.

Imagine if the fervor of a religious protest were channeled into, say, fixing India’s broken education system. Or if the outrage over a blasphemous remark fueled a movement for clean water. It’s not impossible—look at the 2011 Anna Hazare anti-corruption protests—but it’s rare. Religion, with its emotional immediacy, drowns out everything else.

Can India Break the Cycle?

Breaking free won’t be easy. Religion’s grip on Indian politics is both a symptom and a cause of deeper fractures. Secularism, enshrined in the Constitution, feels more like a buzzword than a practice. Political parties have little incentive to pivot when polarizing pays off at the ballot box. And the public, conditioned by centuries of communal coexistence and conflict, responds viscerally to religious cues.

Yet, there’s hope. Younger Indians, especially in urban centers, are increasingly vocal about jobs, climate, and governance on platforms like X. The challenge is turning that chatter into street-level momentum—something religion has mastered but socioeconomic causes haven’t.

For now, though, Indian politics remains a theater of gods and grievances. While the U.S. protests tariffs and France riots over pensions, India’s streets will likely stay ablaze over the next hurt sentiment. It’s a democracy as vibrant as it is myopic—where faith isn’t just a part of life, but the only game in town.