THE GREAT INDIAN DEBATE — DAY 27 Did the demolition of Babri Masjid make India more or less stable?
THE STAKES On January 22, 2024, Prime Minister Narendra Modi inaugurated the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya, built on the site where the Babri Masjid stood until December 6, 1992. The ceremony was broadcast live, with millions watching as priests performed rituals on a platform once contested in courts for decades. Just weeks later, the Supreme Court began hearing petitions challenging the Places of Worship Act, 1991—which freezes the religious character of all sites as they existed on August 15, 1947—with some arguing it should be amended or struck down. The demolition is no longer just history; it is a precedent, a legal benchmark, and a live wire in India’s secular fabric.
THE ARGUMENT FOR: THE DEMOLITION MADE INDIA MORE STABLE Those who believe the demolition restored stability argue that the Babri Masjid was never just a mosque—it was a symbol of historical injustice, a daily reminder of the subjugation of Hindus under Mughal rule. The site, they contend, was the birthplace of Lord Ram, and its "liberation" corrected a centuries-old wrong. The demolition, in this view, was not an act of vandalism but the culmination of a mass movement that gave voice to a marginalized religious majority.
Proponents point to the 2019 Supreme Court verdict, which acknowledged the disputed site’s "unique and sacred" character for Hindus while also noting that the demolition was illegal. The court’s decision to award the land to a Hindu trust, they argue, validated the sentiment that had long simmered beneath the surface. The construction of the Ram Mandir, in this narrative, has channelled that energy into a unifying national project, reducing the temperature of communal politics. Data from the Pew Research Center (2021) shows that 64% of Hindus believe the temple’s construction has strengthened national unity.
Economically, the argument goes further: Ayodhya is now a pilgrimage hub, with infrastructure projects worth ₹85,000 crore underway. The demolition, its defenders say, unlocked a dormant cultural and economic potential, turning a flashpoint into a source of prosperity. The stability here is not just ideological but material—jobs, tourism, and investment flowing into a region long neglected.
THE ARGUMENT AGAINST: THE DEMOLITION MADE INDIA LESS STABLE Critics argue that the demolition was a watershed moment in India’s descent into majoritarian politics, eroding the foundational principle of secularism enshrined in the Constitution. The Babri Masjid was not just a building; it was a test case for whether India’s pluralism could withstand the pressures of religious nationalism. Its destruction, they say, emboldened fringe groups to target other mosques, churches, and historical sites, creating a climate of impunity.
The violence that followed the demolition—over 2,000 deaths in riots across India—was not an aberration but a warning. The 2002 Gujarat riots, the 2020 Delhi violence, and the rise of vigilante groups targeting interfaith couples or meat traders are all, in this view, downstream effects of the precedent set in 1992. The demolition proved that mobs could rewrite history, and that the state would either look away or later legitimize their actions through courts and legislation.
Legally, the demolition undermined the rule of law. The Supreme Court’s 2019 verdict, while awarding the land to Hindus, also called the demolition a "serious violation of the rule of law." The Places of Worship Act, 1991, was passed in direct response to the demolition, to prevent such disputes from recurring. Yet today, petitions challenging the act argue that it "freezes injustice," ignoring the sentiments of the majority. This, critics say, is a slippery slope—if one site can be reclaimed, why not others? The Gyanvapi Mosque in Varanasi and the Shahi Idgah in Mathura are already in litigation, with Hindu groups citing the Ayodhya verdict as precedent.
The long-term stability of a diverse nation, they argue, depends on upholding the principle that no religious group can unilaterally alter the status of a place of worship. The demolition did the opposite: it signalled that might makes right.
THE HIDDEN DIMENSION: THE ECONOMICS OF COMMUNAL POLARIZATION Most debates about the Babri Masjid focus on religion, law, or history. But the hidden dimension is economic: the demolition and its aftermath created a lucrative industry of communal polarization. Political parties, media houses, and even real estate developers have profited from keeping the issue alive.
Consider the data: Between 1992 and 2024, the BJP’s vote share in Uttar Pradesh surged from 33% to 41%, with Ayodhya as a key mobilizing factor. Media coverage of religious disputes drives ratings, with channels like Aaj Tak and Republic TV dedicating hours to temple-mosque debates. Even tourism has been weaponized—Ayodhya’s economy is now tied to the Ram Mandir, making any critique of the demolition a threat to local livelihoods.
This economic incentive structure explains why the issue refuses to fade. The demolition was not just about faith; it was about creating a permanent wedge issue, a tool to rally voters, sell ads, and justify development projects. The stability argument, in this light, is circular: the more unstable the issue, the more valuable it becomes to those who benefit from it.
WHERE INDIANS STAND A 2021 Pew Research Center survey found that 60% of Indians believe the Ram Mandir’s construction has strengthened national unity, while 26% say it has deepened religious divisions. Among Hindus, 64% see it as unifying; among Muslims, 58% see it as divisive. The 2019 Lok Sabha elections, where the BJP won 303 seats, suggest that the Ayodhya verdict did not hurt the party’s electoral prospects—in fact, it may have helped. However, state elections in Maharashtra (2019) and West Bengal (2021) showed that the issue does not guarantee victory everywhere, indicating that its resonance is uneven.
YOUR VIEW If the demolition was a correction of historical injustice, why does that logic not apply to other sites—like the Taj Mahal, built by a Mughal emperor on land once owned by a Hindu king? Where do you draw the line?
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