Civilisational Overreach and the Media's Blind Spot on Systemic Discrimination in India

To the untrained observer reading a litany of Western media coverage on India under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, one could be forgiven for imagining the nation teetering on the brink of some dystopian, majoritarian nightmare. Tales of "Hindu nationalism," an alleged "persecution" of religious minorities, and ominous declarations of a democracy in decline dominate the headlines. Yet these portrayals, written often with the moral self-assurance of distant commentators, betray not only an ignorance of India’s complex socio-political fabric but also a lack of nuance essential for understanding a country that embraced diversity as a value, long before it became fashionable in the West.

It is a curious conceit of the modern West to imagine that diversity and tolerance are their inventions, virtues exported to less enlightened parts of the world. India’s embrace of diversity is not a late-blooming flower nurtured by modern ideals of Western liberalism. Long before the Enlightenment's tidy theories of tolerance, India had already evolved a civilisational ethos of coexistence. Unlike Western notions of tolerance, which often rest on the begrudging acceptance of difference, India’s pluralism is rooted in the Vedic worldview that sees all faiths as valid paths to the divine. This is not mere theoretical largesse but a lived reality: one sees it in the coexistence of Hindu temples, Muslim mosques, and Sikh gurdwaras that dot the same streets; in the shared traditions of festivals like Eid and Diwali, celebrated with equal fervour by neighbours of different creeds. Indian diversity, unlike its Western counterpart, is not an intellectual exercise but an organic phenomenon, woven into the nation’s cultural DNA. To equate such a heritage with the West’s belated and often reluctant embrace of diversity is to commit an intellectual disservice of the highest order.

It is a peculiar irony that India, home to 200 million Muslims—roughly 15% of its population and a number greater than those that live in any Islamic country barring Indonesia and Pakistan—can simultaneously be cast as a nation oppressive to its minorities. This is not to say that prejudice does not exist; it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. But prejudice is not the same as systemic injustice, and the individual prejudices of citizens cannot be laid at the feet of a government without credible evidence of institutional discrimination. The distinction is both subtle and vital, one too often disregarded in fevered reportage.

One of the greatest errors of modern commentary lies in its tendency to conflate prejudice with systemic discrimination, as if the former, by its mere presence, is irrefutable evidence of the latter. This intellectual shortcut, while emotionally satisfying to those who seek clear villains and victims in their narratives, is both dangerous and misleading. In India, as elsewhere, prejudice exists. A Hindu shopkeeper may harbour distrust of his Muslim neighbour, or a Muslim teacher may look askance at a Hindu pupil. These instances, regrettable though they are, are products of individual minds, shaped by history, experience, or misinformation. They are not, however, enshrined in India’s institutions, its laws, or its governance. The Constitution of India, one of the most ambitious experiments in democracy and pluralism, guarantees equality to all its citizens, irrespective of caste, creed, or religion. It explicitly safeguards the rights of minorities, not as an afterthought but as a cornerstone of the nation’s identity.

The constitutional guarantees of India must be the first port of call for any such analysis. Articles 14 to 25 of the Indian Constitution enshrine equality before the law, protection of religious freedoms, and the right to practice, propagate, and manage religious institutions. These are not mere words on paper; they are actively upheld by a judiciary that has often shown remarkable independence, even when challenging the government of the day. For example, in 2019, the Supreme Court struck down the controversial Section 66A of the IT Act for curbing freedom of speech, signaling the judiciary's autonomy. India’s laws are blind to faith in matters of justice, employment, and opportunity, and any exceptions—such as those relating to personal laws governing marriage and inheritance for religious minorities—are explicitly designed to protect cultural autonomy rather than to diminish rights.

Critics often point to tragic incidents of mob violence or communal tensions as evidence of systemic discrimination. Yet to do so is to mistake the shadow for the substance. A mob is not an institution; its actions, no matter how heinous, do not represent state policy. For one, the rate of communal violence has not significantly risen under Modi’s tenure.. In fact, the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) data indicates that communal violence accounted for less than 0.3% of all crimes recorded in India in 2020. Additionally, the period from 2014 to 2020 under Modi's administration witnessed a decline in the number of communal incidents compared to previous decades. To extrapolate a national crisis from such statistics reveals more about the writer’s intent than about India’s reality.

Furthermore, claims that life as a religious minority in India, especially a Muslim, is inherently dangerous are undermined by the socioeconomic data. Muslims, as do other minorities, while undeniably facing challenges that merit attention, have access to the same legal recourse, educational opportunities, and entrepreneurial freedom as any other community. The Sachar Committee report of 2006 revealed disparities in development outcomes for Muslims, but this was hardly evidence of state-sanctioned discrimination; rather, it highlighted poverty that transcends religious lines. A subsequent survey by the Pew Research Center in 2021 showed that 89% of Indian Muslims believe they are free to practice their religion, a sentiment echoed by other minority groups.

Consider also the political representation of minorities in India. Muslims occupy prominent roles in governance, the judiciary, and civil society. India has had a Muslim President, A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, who was one of the nation’s greatest scientists, not to mention a most beloved and respected figure across the political spectrum. Today, Muslim legislators sit in Parliament, and states like Kerala and Jammu & Kashmir have witnessed Muslim Chief Ministers. These are hardly the hallmarks of a nation bent upon marginalising its minorities.

The argument that Prime Minister Modi is responsible for creating a climate of intolerance ignores the inconvenient reality that Indian politics has long been marked by communal tensions predating his administration. It also lacks credible evidence and often relies on anecdotal exaggerations or ideological presuppositions. Indeed, to reduce a complex, multifaceted society of over a billion people to the actions or policies of a single leader betrays a woeful lack of understanding of Indian democracy. Modi, whose administration has prioritised economic reforms and technological progress, governs a country where elections remain fiercely contested, the press operates with relative freedom, and power transitions occur seamlessly. Autocrats do not typically tolerate such hallmarks of democratic vitality.

To imagine that Modi’s tenure has been entirely without blemish would be as naive as it would be dishonest. Indeed, Modi has no shortage of critics, and some of their charges—such as concerns over the concentration of power in the hands of specific people in his administration or the economic hardships caused by demonetisation—hold undeniable merit. In fact, the robust debate that ensues is a testament to the vibrancy of India’s democracy. Yet the accusation that his governance has ushered in a systematic persecution of minorities is not among these legitimate critiques. Modi’s governance, for all its flaws, operates within the checks and balances of India’s robust democratic framework, a far cry from the autocratic tendencies he is often accused of. If his critics are to be taken seriously, they must distinguish between legitimate concerns and ideologically driven hyperbole, for conflating the two only serves to dilute the credibility of their argument.

To be sure, India faces challenges of integration, inequality, and communal harmony. But it is a testament to its democratic resilience that such challenges are met not with silence but with vigorous debate, judicial oversight, and grassroots activism. The notion that India is becoming a Hindu nationalist state where minorities live in constant fear is a projection born of ideological bias, not empirical evidence. It serves not to illuminate India’s truths but to satisfy the appetites of those who find it fashionable to decry the world’s largest democracy as regressive or intolerant.

The desire of one civilisation to sit in judgment over another is not new; it has roots as deep as humanity’s earliest encounters between the "self" and the "other." Yet, there is something particularly insidious in the modern manifestation of this tendency: a sanctimonious civilisational overreach that cloaks itself in the rhetoric of universal human rights while often failing to see its own limitations. Civilisational overreach arises when one culture presumes the universality of its norms and ideals, projecting them onto societies with vastly different histories, values, and realities. India, with its vast, complex, and ancient civilisation, defies such simplistic interpretations. A country that accommodates over 1.4 billion people, speaking hundreds of languages and practising every major religion known to humanity, cannot be reduced to the tidy categories of Western political discourse: "oppressed minorities," "majoritarianism," or "authoritarianism."

Consider, for example, the Western critique of India's application of secularism. These criticisms often hinge on the presumption that secularism must mirror the rigid separation of church and state seen in Western democracies. The secularism of India, unlike its Western counterpart, does not stem from a historical confrontation with religious absolutism but rather from the necessity of managing a society of unparalleled diversity. India, by design and necessity, has developed a unique form of secularism—one that actively engages with religion rather than excluding it. Consider, for instance, the government subsidies for the Hajj pilgrimage for Muslims or the administration of Hindu temples by state bodies in order to ensure accessibility to all castes—arrangements that would scandalise the rigidly secular West but are deemed essential in India to maintain balance among communities. 

The Indian state, far from pretending religion does not exist, acknowledges its omnipresence and accommodates it with a pragmatism that would bewilder those schooled only in Western doctrines of irreligious governance. To judge India’s secularism by Western standards, as foreign commentators frequently do, is an act of civilisational overreach. It fails to grasp that India's history is not one of Enlightenment-era rationalism but of coexistence amidst diversity. The Indian experiment does not aim to erase differences but to weave them into the fabric of national life. It is an approach born of necessity, not ideology, and it reflects an understanding that rigid uniformity is unworkable in a land as pluralistic as India.

The deeper irony is that this civilisational overreach often operates under the guise of protecting minorities, as if India’s people are incapable of grappling with their own challenges or as if they need the moral guidance of foreign powers to shape their destiny. That this attitude persists in a world ostensibly committed to equality among nations is both troubling and revealing.

In seeking to critique India, foreign observers would do well to remember that no nation is immune to prejudice or discord. To imagine otherwise is to indulge in a dangerous form of exceptionalism, one that absolves one’s own society of its flaws while amplifying those of others. And for all its imperfections, India remains a vibrant, pluralistic, and fundamentally democratic nation—one far more complex than the caricature so often drawn by distant pens.