THE GREAT INDIAN DEBATE — DAY 21 Is India’s secularism anti-Hindu?
THE STAKES Last month, the Supreme Court heard a petition challenging the Places of Worship Act, 1991, which freezes the religious character of all places of worship as they existed on August 15, 1947. The petitioners argue the law discriminates against Hindus by preventing the reclamation of sites like the Gyanvapi mosque complex in Varanasi, while allowing Muslim and Christian institutions to retain control of disputed properties. Meanwhile, the Karnataka government’s ban on hijabs in classrooms reignited debates over whether secularism in India means equal treatment or selective appeasement. These cases force a question: Is India’s version of secularism designed to restrain Hindu majoritarianism—or to suppress Hindu identity itself?
THE ARGUMENT FOR Those who argue that India’s secularism is anti-Hindu point to a pattern of policies, judicial rulings, and political rhetoric that, in their view, systematically disadvantage Hindus while privileging minorities. The core of their case rests on three pillars: constitutional asymmetry, historical grievances, and state intervention in Hindu institutions.
First, the Constitution itself treats religions unequally. While Article 25 guarantees the right to "profess, practice, and propagate" religion, it also allows the state to regulate or restrict Hindu religious institutions under Articles 25(2)(a) and 26. No such provision exists for mosques or churches. The Supreme Court’s 1954 Shirur Mutt judgment upheld this distinction, ruling that Hindu temples are "public" institutions subject to state control, while minority religious bodies are "private." Today, states like Tamil Nadu and Kerala administer thousands of Hindu temples, diverting their revenues for secular purposes, while waqf boards and church trusts operate with minimal oversight.
Second, they cite historical injustices. The Places of Worship Act, 1991, they argue, was a political move to "lock in" the status quo of religious sites, preventing Hindus from reclaiming temples destroyed or converted during Muslim rule. The 1992 demolition of the Babri Masjid and the subsequent legal battles only deepened the sense that secularism is a tool to deny Hindus their rightful heritage. The argument is not just about Ayodhya—it’s about Kashi, Mathura, and hundreds of other sites where archaeological evidence suggests pre-existing Hindu structures.
Third, they point to the state’s selective intervention in Hindu practices. Laws like the Hindu Succession Act (1956) and the Hindu Marriage Act (1955) reformed Hindu personal laws, while Muslim personal law remained largely untouched until the Shah Bano case (1985) and the subsequent political backlash. Even today, the Uniform Civil Code remains a contentious issue, with critics arguing that secularism is used to modernize Hinduism while leaving minority practices intact. As political scientist Koenraad Elst writes, "Indian secularism is not neutral; it is a weaponized concept that targets Hindu society."
THE ARGUMENT AGAINST Opponents of this view argue that India’s secularism is not anti-Hindu but a necessary corrective to majoritarianism—a principle enshrined in the Constitution to protect all citizens, including Hindus, from religious domination. They contend that the real threat to secularism comes not from the state but from those who equate Hindu identity with political power, conflating cultural pride with religious supremacy.
First, they reject the claim of constitutional bias. The state’s regulation of Hindu temples, they argue, is not about suppressing Hinduism but preventing exploitation by corrupt religious institutions. The Shirur Mutt judgment was about ensuring that temple wealth is used for public good, not hoarded by priests. In contrast, minority institutions like waqfs and churches are not state-administered because they were historically self-governing—this is a matter of legal tradition, not discrimination. As constitutional scholar Faizan Mustafa notes, "The state’s role in Hindu temples is about accountability, not animus."
Second, they argue that the focus on historical grievances is a distraction from contemporary realities. The Places of Worship Act was passed in the aftermath of the Babri Masjid demolition to prevent further communal violence—not to target Hindus. The law applies equally to all religious sites, including churches and gurudwaras. The real question, they say, is whether India should prioritize historical justice over social harmony. As historian Romila Thapar writes, "The past cannot be undone, but the future can be built on coexistence."
Third, they point out that Hindu personal laws were reformed precisely because they were discriminatory—not because Hinduism was singled out. The Hindu Code Bills of the 1950s abolished practices like polygamy and unequal inheritance, aligning Hindu law with modern principles of gender justice. Muslim personal law, they argue, remains unreformed not because of secularism’s bias, but because of political cowardice. The real failure of secularism, they say, is the state’s inability to push for a Uniform Civil Code that applies to all citizens equally.
Finally, they warn that framing secularism as anti-Hindu plays into the hands of those who seek to replace India’s pluralism with a majoritarian state. As political scientist Pratap Bhanu Mehta argues, "The moment secularism is seen as a tool against Hindus, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy—because the only alternative is a Hindu rashtra, which is the antithesis of secularism."
THE HIDDEN DIMENSION Most debates on this topic ignore the economic undercurrents shaping the argument. The real contest is not just over religious identity but over control of resources—land, money, and institutional power. Hindu temples in India collectively own vast wealth, including gold, land, and cash reserves worth an estimated ₹1.5 lakh crore (as per a 2019 report by the Comptroller and Auditor General). State governments, which administer many of these temples, divert their revenues for secular purposes, from education to infrastructure. In Tamil Nadu, for instance, the HR&CE department manages over 36,000 temples and collects ₹1,500 crore annually—much of which is spent on non-religious projects.
Meanwhile, minority institutions like waqfs operate with little transparency. A 2013 Sachar Committee report found that waqf properties, worth an estimated ₹1.2 lakh crore, are often mismanaged or encroached upon. Yet, calls for greater accountability in waqf boards are rare, while demands for temple autonomy are framed as a religious issue. The hidden dimension here is that the debate over secularism is also a proxy war over who controls India’s religious wealth—and who benefits from it.
WHERE INDIANS STAND A 2019 Pew Research Center survey found that 64% of Indians believe it is "very important" to respect all religions, but only 40% think the government treats all religions equally. Among Hindus, 53% say the government favors one religion over others, with 36% believing it favors Islam. However, a 2021 Lokniti-CSDS survey revealed that 55% of Indians support a Uniform Civil Code, suggesting that while there is skepticism about the state’s impartiality, there is also demand for equal treatment under the law.
YOUR VIEW If secularism is meant to protect minorities from majoritarianism, does it become unjust when the majority feels it is the one being restrained?
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