Religion and Identity Politics: The Impact of Religious Communities in India

Few forces shape political behaviour in India as powerfully as religion. From the way parties craft their campaigns to the way communities perceive their place in the nation, religious identity has become one of the central organising principles of public life. Yet this was not always inevitable. The story of how shared faith transformed into a political tool, and how that transformation has tested the secular foundations of the republic, is essential to understanding contemporary politics. This post examines how religious communities are constructed, how majoritarian and minoritarian assertions interact, and what this means for democracy.

How religious identity becomes political
The colonial origins
The secular framework of the Constitution
The rise of Hindu nationalist mobilisation
The Ayodhya movement and the Babri Masjid
Majoritarian assertion and minority counter-assertion
The experience of minorities
Consequences for democracy
The other side of the picture

How religious identity becomes political

Religion in itself is a matter of personal faith and worship. It becomes political only when it is deliberately mobilised. Scholars use the term communalism to describe this process: the politicization of religious identity over national identity, where a community comes to believe its interests are fundamentally opposed to those of another group. Communalism is not the same as religious devotion. A person can be deeply religious without being communal. The defining feature of communal politics is the use of religious symbols, fears, and grievances to build political support.

This involves the construction of community. People hold many identities at once: occupation, language, region, caste, gender, and faith. Communal politics reduces this complexity to a single religious label, encouraging individuals to see themselves primarily as members of a religious bloc with collective political interests. Once a person accepts this framing, they become available for political mobilisation along religious lines.

The colonial origins

The modern, politicized form of communalism is widely traced to the colonial period rather than to ancient antagonisms. The British pursued a strategy of deepening divisions for administrative convenience, most notably through the introduction of separate electorates that allowed voters to elect representatives only from their own religious community. This institutionalised the idea that Hindus and Muslims formed distinct political entities with irreconcilable interests.

This trajectory contributed to the formation of communal organisations and culminated in the Partition of 1947, which divided the subcontinent along religious lines and triggered one of the largest mass migrations in history, accompanied by horrific violence. Partition left a lasting imprint, embedding religious anxiety into political consciousness. It is precisely because of this experience that the framers of the Constitution made a deliberate choice to build a secular state rather than a religious one.

The secular framework of the Constitution

Secularism is a foundational principle of the constitutional order, though it carries a meaning distinct from the Western model. Where Western secularism implies a strict separation of religion and state, the Indian version rests on the idea of Sarva Dharma Sambhava, or equal respect for all religions. The state does not align itself with any faith, but it may regulate or even intervene in religious matters to ensure equality and reform.

This commitment is given legal force through the right to freedom of religion, guaranteed under Articles 25 to 28 of the Constitution. Article 25 grants every person freedom of conscience and the right to profess, practise, and propagate religion, subject to public order, morality, and health. Article 26 allows religious denominations to manage their own affairs, Article 27 bars the use of taxes to promote any particular religion, and Article 28 regulates religious instruction in state-funded institutions.

The judiciary has reinforced this framework. In the landmark S.R. Bommai v. Union of India case, the Supreme Court held that secularism is part of the basic structure of the Constitution, meaning it cannot be amended away even by Parliament. The word itself was formally added to the Preamble through the 42nd Amendment in 1976.

The rise of Hindu nationalist mobilisation

Against this secular backdrop, a powerful counter-current emerged. Hindu nationalist organisations and parties advanced the ideology of Hindutva, or Hinduness, which seeks to define national identity in terms of a shared Hindu cultural heritage. The argument is that the nation is, at its core, a Hindu civilisation, and that political and cultural life should reflect this.

This ideology gained significant political traction from the late 1980s onward. The Bharatiya Janata Party emphasised a majoritarian Hindu identity, presenting itself as the defender of a community it portrayed as having been neglected. The appeal of religious nationalism grew during a period of political disillusionment, when established parties seemed unable to address public anxieties. Hindutva offered a clear, emotionally resonant identity around which to organise.

The Ayodhya movement and the Babri Masjid

The clearest expression of this mobilisation was the campaign over the disputed site at Ayodhya, where Hindu groups claimed a temple marking the birthplace of Rama had been replaced by a mosque built in the sixteenth century. In 1990, a senior party leader launched the Ram Rath Yatra, a cross-country procession that generated communal tension and rioting along its route while building support for temple construction.

The campaign reached its violent climax on 6 December 1992, when a rally organised by Hindu nationalist organisations turned into a mob that demolished the Babri Masjid as security forces failed to intervene. The destruction triggered months of intercommunal rioting across the country in which at least 2,000 people died, many of them from minority communities. The event marked a turning point, demonstrating both the mobilising power of religious symbols and the fragility of communal harmony.

The dispute continued through the courts for decades. In 2019, the Supreme Court ruled that the 1992 demolition had violated the law, yet awarded the disputed land for the construction of a temple while allotting a separate plot for a mosque. This outcome illustrates how a single religious controversy can dominate political discourse across generations.

Majoritarian assertion and minority counter-assertion

The political landscape that emerged from these developments is defined by a dynamic of assertion and counter-assertion. As the majority community asserts a religious identity as central to nationhood, minority communities respond by organising to protect their own rights and interests. This is the confrontational pattern at the heart of religious identity politics.

To understand the demographic backdrop, it helps to consider the numbers. According to Pew Research Center analysis of census data, Hindus made up about 79.8% of the population and Muslims about 14.2% as of 2011, with Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists, and Jains together forming most of the remainder. India is home to one of the largest Muslim populations of any country in the world. Notably, the same research found that India’s religious composition has remained remarkably stable since 1951, which complicates alarmist narratives about rapid demographic change.

The experience of minorities

For minority communities, the rise of majoritarian assertion has produced feelings of alienation and marginalisation. When national identity is increasingly defined in terms of one faith, those outside it can come to feel like second-class citizens. Some legislation and policy debates have intensified these anxieties. The discussion around the Citizenship Amendment Act of 2019, for instance, was seen by critics as introducing a religious criterion into questions of citizenship, raising fears about equal treatment.

Minority counter-assertion can itself harden communal boundaries. When groups respond to majoritarian pressure by emphasising their own distinct religious identity and demands, the cycle of mutual suspicion deepens. Each assertion provokes a counter-assertion, and the political space for shared, cross-communal identities shrinks.

Consequences for democracy

The most direct consequence of religious identity politics is the strain it places on the secular fabric of the democratic order. Several specific dangers stand out.

Communal violence. Recurring riots demonstrate how political mobilisation can spill into bloodshed. Beyond the immediate loss of life, such violence disrupts local economies, displaces populations, and leaves lasting psychological trauma on survivors, eroding the social trust on which a plural society depends.

Political polarisation. When parties and leaders use religious identity to win votes, the electorate fragments along communal lines. This can produce a politics in which policy is shaped to favour one community over another, undermining the principles of fairness and equality that democracy requires. Issues get framed as zero-sum contests between religious groups rather than as common problems to be solved.

Reformulation of national identity. Perhaps the deepest concern is that sustained majoritarian mobilisation could redefine what it means to belong to the nation. If citizenship and national belonging come to be understood through a religious lens, the inclusive, pluralist conception embedded in the Constitution gives way to one in which some citizens are more equal than others.

The other side of the picture

It would be incomplete to present religion only as a divisive force. Religion has also been a resource for empowerment, mobilising people for justice, dignity, and recognition. Movements drawing on religious traditions have campaigned for social reform and the rights of marginalised groups. India also has a long history of syncretic traditions, such as the composite Hindu-Muslim culture of north India and the shared spaces of the Bhakti and Sufi movements, which testify to a deep capacity for coexistence. Recognising this dual character of religion, as both an integrative and a divisive force, is essential to any balanced analysis.

It is also worth noting that scholars disagree about the causes of communal politics. Some attribute the politicization of religion to the very institutions of secularism and the mobilisation of disadvantaged groups, while others locate the roots firmly in colonial strategy and the disillusionment of the late twentieth century. The debate over whether secularism in practice has been even-handed or selective remains genuinely contested.

What do you think? Can a democracy define a shared national identity that accommodates deep religious diversity without privileging any single community? And where should the line fall between legitimate political expression of religious values and communal mobilisation that threatens the rights of minorities?

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Table of Contents

How religious identity becomes political 🔗

The colonial origins 🔗

The secular framework of the Constitution 🔗

The rise of Hindu nationalist mobilisation 🔗

The Ayodhya movement and the Babri Masjid 🔗

Majoritarian assertion and minority counter-assertion 🔗

The experience of minorities 🔗

Consequences for democracy 🔗

The other side of the picture 🔗