Akbar wasn’t a Hindu-made hero. Don’t use communal filters to frame his legacy

What made him ‘Akbar the Great’ was not the might of his armies alone, but the political architecture he built to sustain power over a subcontinent teeming with diversity.

Painting of Akbar, 1630 | Met Museum | Wikimedia Commons

Reducing Akbar’s legacy to Hindu validation ignores the historical reality of a ruler who built an empire on inclusion, reason, and political innovation.

In recent discourse, it has become common to judge historical figures by contemporary metrics of identity, evaluating their legacy through the lens of religious endorsement. A recent piece published in ThePrint exemplifies this trend by implying that Mughal Emperor Akbar was considered “Great” largely because of how Hindus perceived him. This argument is not only ahistorical, but it fundamentally misunderstands Akbar’s statesmanship and the roots of his greatness.

Akbar was not “made great” by the Hindus or Muslims of his time. He was not a communal hero. He was a national ruler—perhaps even an early architect of Indian pluralism—whose legacy was forged through radical policies.

Akbar’s greatness was political

At the age of 13, Akbar inherited an empire still in the shadow of his grandfather Babur’s conquests. What made him ‘Akbar the Great’ was not the might of his armies alone, but the political architecture he built to sustain power over a subcontinent teeming with religious and linguistic diversity.

At the heart of this architecture was Sulh‑e‑Kul, or “peace with all”, a principle of religious tolerance and administrative neutrality. This principle was not a rhetorical flourish. It translated into policies like the abolition of the jizya in 1564, and the removal of the Hindu pilgrimage tax a year earlier. While these may be seen as gestures of appeasement, they were acts of political clarity. Akbar understood that an empire built on religious favouritism was brittle, whereas one built on inclusion was enduring.

Religious pluralism as state policy

Akbar’s openness to multiple religious traditions was unprecedented in South Asian statecraft. In 1575, he established the Ibadat Khana, a ‘House of Worship‘ where Sunni scholars, Shia clerics, Jesuit priests, Jain monks, Hindu pandits, and even atheists debated freely. These discussions deeply influenced his worldview.

Disillusioned by the dogma of the clerical class, Akbar moved away from inherited orthodoxy. By 1582, he formulated Din-i-Ilahi, a spiritual synthesis that borrowed from multiple traditions. It wasn’t a new religion, as is often misunderstood, but an ethical framework emphasising unity, reason, and compassion. His decisions, including banning cow slaughter during Hindu festivals and granting land to Jain and Christian institutions, reflect this ideological maturity.

However, Akbar never renounced Islam. He fasted during Ramzan, offered prayers, and continued to consult Muslim jurists. His greatness lay in navigating the religious landscape without succumbing to it.

Akbar’s inclusion of Hindu elites wasn’t tokenism, either. He didn’t “tolerate” Hindus—he empowered them. Rajput general Raja Man Singh was one of Akbar’s top commanders, entrusted with leading Mughal armies in Kabul, Bengal, and Odisha.

Todar Mal, a Hindu revenue administrator, reformed the empire’s tax system so effectively that it even influenced British systems centuries later. Akbar also commissioned Persian translations of major Hindu scriptures, including the Mahabharata (Razmnama), fostering an intellectual exchange rare for its time.

These were structural reforms that altered the composition of power and redefined what it meant to serve in the Mughal state.

Akbar’s ‘inclusive empire’

The claim that Hindus “made” Akbar great reduces history to a popularity contest. Muslim rulers came before and after Akbar; none achieved his stature. When his great-grandson Aurangzeb reversed his pluralist policies and reinstated the jizya, the empire began to fracture along the very lines Akbar had worked to transcend.

Even in the 19th century, long after the Mughals had faded, Akbar was remembered as a just king. He knew that religious identity should not determine political rights or civic belonging.

So, to frame Akbar’s legacy through communal filters is to miss the forest for the trees. He was an empire builder not just in territory, but in imagination. He envisaged a political order where Muslims, Hindus, Jains, Parsis, Christians, and atheists could be part of a common civilisational project.

Akbar was not made great by the flattery of specific religious communities, but by his courage to imagine an India where faith enriched public life and did not dictate state policy. His vision offers a lesson even today: true national leadership demands the ability to unify without erasing difference.

In our polarised times, it’s tempting to measure historical greatness through sectarian gratitude. But Akbar defies this framework. He wasn’t a Hindu-made hero or a Muslim king gone liberal. He was a political innovator who understood that the health of an empire depended not on who ruled, but how.

Akbar’s greatness came from his inclusive, cohesive, and remarkably modern vision of governance. Any account of his legacy that ignores this reduces a towering statesman to a communal caricature.

Let us remember Akbar for what he was—a ruler who led a diverse people with wisdom, courage, and conviction. That, in the end, is what made him great.

Hasnain Naqvi is a former member of the history faculty at St Xavier’s College, Mumbai. Views are personal.

Ibn Khaldun Bharati’s response:

This article largely echoes my own analysis. In fact, the author further illustrates my points with additional details. His apparent disagreement is on the attribution of greatness to Akbar by the Hindus, which I think has been a token of their appreciation for the only Hindu-friendly Muslim ruler. The Muslims, however, have been critical of Akbar for the same reason—his Hindu friendliness. Instead, they glorify Aurangzeb for no other reason than his persecution of Hindus. They add to his name the highest Islamic benediction—Rahmatullah Alaihi (may God have mercy on him). Has the author ever wondered why the same is not added to Akbar’s name?

With this, ThePrint closes the discussion.

(Edited by Prasanna Bachchhav)