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There is a widely perceived sense of grievance within sections of the Muslim community in India. Yet the grievance and its precise source is not easy to identify. There is no law in India that discriminates against Muslims as a group. On the contrary, even as the Constitution paradoxically asserts secularism as a fundamental principle, while granting minorities, including Muslims, specific protections to preserve their cultural, educational, and religious identity. Muslim citizens can form religion-based political parties, run minority institutions, and enjoy safeguards designed to ensure their autonomy.
So what, then, fuels this persistent sense of perceived alienation?
If the grievance is poverty, it affects every community without distinction of religion or caste. If it is education, the law not only provides equal access but also allows minorities to establish and manage education institutions of their own, which many Muslim organisations do successfully. If it is political representation, Muslims continue to be present in legislatures, public service, private enterprises, services sector and civic life across India.
What, then, is the core of the grievance?
Is it genuine marginalisation, or a narrative amplified by political rhetoric, much like the rhetoric directed at Brahmins in Tamil Nadu – which is duly ignored? Or does it lie deeper, embedded in historical memory and carried across generations?
If one were to trace the timeline, several possibilities present themselves. History offers several points of departure. The long centuries of Islamic and Mughal rule, the British era that sharpened separate religious political identities and finally partitioned the nation and country, and the terrorism of the ’80s, ’90s and early 2000s that hardened attitudes everywhere. In recent years, social media and political posturing have only magnified old wounds.
The truth, perhaps, lies in a perception, as a combination of all these factors. Part of the grievance is political rhetoric, part of its historical memory, part of it the influence of political and religious leadership that chooses emotion over reform, and part of it the modern digital echo chamber that amplifies every slight, whether genuine or imagined.
Yet it is equally true that coexistence in India has always been stronger than conflict. Across centuries, communities have lived, worked, and grown together. Estrangement has typically been the work of fringe elements, not the mainstream, made possible with defining influence from outside the country.
This is where the paradox of tolerance becomes relevant. A society, across communities and within, that tolerates intolerance without limit risks losing its freedom to precisely those who reject reason. Karl Popper warned of this danger in The Open Society and Its Enemies (1945). In his own words: –
“…we must reserve the right to suppress them [intolerant ideologies], if necessary even by force. For these groups are often unwilling to engage with rational argument. They begin instead by attacking the very idea of argument, instructing their followers to reject reason as deception and to answer not with dialogue, but with fists or pistols.”
This insight is crucial, because radicalism thrives where rational debate is rejected or fails.
Which brings us to the present.
A few days ago, a letter was circulated in the social media, condemning the Delhi terrorist attack. It was signed by five respected Muslim citizens from diverse walks of life, an important and commendable gesture. I have long believed that civil society and religious leaders are essential actors in building social harmony.
But gestures alone are insufficient.
Public figures, particularly religious leaders, scholars, educators, artists, professionals, and community elders, must move beyond statements. They must step out into their own community spaces and speak openly about how Islam is being distorted by radicalised elements. Criticism from outside is easy to dismiss; criticism from within is not. When the pushback comes from inside the fold, it acquires credibility, encourages introspection, and empowers the moderate majority that seeks peace, not confrontation.
Neither government action nor security operations, however necessary, can eliminate long time radicalisation it entirely. The most effective antidote to religious extremism is internal moral reform; a collective reclaiming of faith from those who twist it for violence, indoctrination, or political gain. Only the community itself can dismantle the narrative that radicals construct in its name.
When internal reform becomes a shared responsibility, two things happen; first, extremist ideologies lose their social oxygen; second, political groups, across the spectrum, find it harder to exploit divisions for electoral gain.
Ultimately, if India is to move toward genuine trust and lasting peace, the will to change must arise from within communities as much as from outside. Understanding the grievance is important. If there is any real grievance, addressing it demands honesty, courage, and the readiness to confront uncomfortable truths.
And above all, it requires leaders, religious and civic, who will choose reform over rhetoric, reason over resentment, and harmony over hostility.
(The author is an Indian Army veteran and a contemporary affairs commentator. The views are personal. He can be reached at kl.viswanathan@gmail.com )
These pieces are being published as they have been received – they have not been edited/fact-checked by ThePrint.