– Dr. M. Iqbal Siddiqui
The architects of the Indian Constitution envisioned a pluralist republic where every community could freely preserve and promote its cultural and religious identity – especially through education. Articles 26, 28, and 30 were not minority concessions but structural guarantees of institutional autonomy within a secular democracy. For Muslims, this promise took shape in institutions like madrasas, the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) and Jamia Millia Islamia, which historically blended faith, language, and modern learning into cohesive educational models.
That vision now stands imperilled – not by legislative repeal, but by judicial reinterpretation. Over the past seven decades, courts have increasingly asserted the authority to define “religion” and determine which practices are “essential” to it. Through the Essential Religious Practices (ERP) doctrine and restrictive rulings on minority institutions, the judiciary has assumed a role alien to both secularism and democracy: the arbiter of theological legitimacy.
This shift has serious consequences. It undermines the institutional identity of Muslim educational bodies, subjects them to majoritarian norms disguised as neutrality, and sets a dangerous precedent in which religious autonomy is contingent on judicial approval. More troublingly, it weaponises the Constitution against its pluralist spirit, raising urgent questions about whether the judiciary is abandoning its constitutional mandate. As ongoing cases on AMU’s status and madrasa regulations show, this is no longer abstract – it is an existential crisis.
Judicial Rationalisation of ‘Religion’
The judiciary’s current approach to religion in education marks a decisive shift from constitutional pluralism to legal rationalism. Through the ERP doctrine, the courts have moved beyond resolving disputes of faith to defining its meaning, scope, and institutional expression. Originally meant to curb exploitative practices, ERP now risks undermining genuine religious freedoms, especially those based on distinct knowledge traditions.
First articulated in Shirur Mutt (1954) and extended in cases involving Muslim practices such as Durgah Committee and Shayara Bano, ERP empowers courts to determine whether a practice qualifies for protection under Articles 25 or 26. Applied to education, this framework does not merely regulate institutions; it redefines their religiosity.
Consider the treatment of madrasa curricula. Rather than acknowledging Islamic knowledge systems as coherent epistemologies, courts often dichotomise content – labelling theology, Arabic, and religious jurisprudence as “dogmatic” or non-essential unless accompanied by state-mandated secular subjects. This approach disregards the integrated learning model that has long defined Muslim educational institutions.
ERP thus establishes a hierarchy of legitimacy: religious practices that align with state educational objectives are accommodated, while those rooted in religious identity face heightened scrutiny. The outcome is a constitutional paradox – minorities are promised the autonomy to run their institutions, but only if they conform to a homogenised framework that dilutes their distinct character.
Defining ‘Religious’ Practices
The judiciary’s attempt to determine what qualifies as a “religious” practice is not only constitutionally dubious but also dangerously intrusive. It thrusts secular courts into theological terrain, transforming them into de facto arbiters of faith – an authority they neither claim by design nor possess in expertise. This overreach directly undermines religious autonomy and disproportionately affects minority traditions, particularly Islam, which is rooted in diverse jurisprudential schools and evolving interpretations. By enforcing a court-sanctioned definition of “essentiality,” the judiciary imposes a homogenised, often majoritarian, understanding of religion that delegitimises internal diversity and invites unwarranted state intrusion into sacred domains.
Crucially, these concerns are not confined to Muslim institutions. Prominent voices from within the Hindu community and the legal academy have also challenged the legitimacy of such judicial interference. Shankaracharya Avimukteshwaranand Saraswati bluntly observed, “कोर्टाला धर्म समजत नाही” (“The court does not understand religion”), calling for religious courts to adjudicate matters of faith. His concerns echo those of renowned legal scholar J.D.M. Derrett, who cautioned that secular judges, lacking doctrinal literacy, risk misjudging what faith communities consider vital.
The consequences of this model are corrosive: it erodes institutional autonomy, silences theological pluralism, and distorts the secular fabric of the Constitution. What begins as a legal inquiry into religious rights often ends as an imposition of ideological conformity – one that weakens the very pluralism India’s democracy was built to protect. The Ismail Faruqui judgment – where the Supreme Court held that a mosque is not essential to Islam – provoked widespread unease among Muslims, who viewed the verdict as a profound misreading of Islamic doctrine and a dangerous precedent for state encroachment on sacred spaces.
Madrasas Under Surveillance
In recent years, the state’s gaze has shifted towards Muslim seminaries with a growing mix of scepticism and conditional tolerance. Ostensibly motivated by educational reform or national integration, government policies have introduced layers of oversight – audits, infrastructure benchmarks, teacher eligibility norms, and curriculum directives.
While the need for quality enhancement is real, the mode of implementation often carries the tone of suspicion. The research document of the MTB (Markazi Taalimi Board) reports an 87% reduction in minority scholarships in 2023 and intensified scrutiny in Uttar Pradesh and Assam. Such moves disproportionately affect madrasas, many of which operate with minimal resources and serve impoverished communities.
Far from ensuring inclusivity, these interventions are viewed by many in the community as attempts to recast madrasas into neutral – or even deracinated – institutions. The demand to modernise is often coupled with a demand to secularise, thereby marginalising the religious core that defines these institutions.
These developments raise a crucial question: Can cultural and religious identities survive bureaucratic reform that refuses to engage with the philosophical integrity of faith-based education?
AMU and the Politics of Institutional Origins
The case of Aligarh Muslim University represents the deeper constitutional and political crisis surrounding minority institutions. In Azeez Basha v. Union of India (1968), the Supreme Court held that AMU could not be considered a minority institution since it was created by a central statute. This interpretation, still under judicial review as of 2025, dismisses the historical reality that the university was born from a communal aspiration for educational renaissance.
Opponents of AMU’s minority status argue for a strict separation between public funding and religious affiliation, invoking a model of secularism that demands cultural neutrality – this is an ideologically selective interpretation of secularism not mandated by the Constitution. Supporters counter that cultural identity, including Muslim identity, aligns with public purpose as protected by the Constitution.
If the Court reiterates the Azeez Basha reasoning, it will set a precedent that any institution established or aided by the state must conform to a homogenised, secular template – regardless of its historical or cultural origin. Such a verdict would not only delegitimise AMU’s identity but also imperil the status of other institutions with cultural missions.
Socioeconomic and Cultural Fallout
The legal constriction of religious identity has broader ramifications. It risks dislocating thousands of students from educational pathways that are accessible, culturally relevant, and spiritually meaningful. As the Sachar Committee Report has shown, Muslims already lag in literacy, higher education, and job placement. Madrasas, though limited in scope, provide foundational literacy to many, especially girls, in remote areas where public schooling is either absent or alienating.
Cutting off funding, forcing content changes, or denying recognition without providing credible alternatives can result in disengagement, not integration. And when institutional alienation converges with social marginalisation, the outcome is not national unity but deepened estrangement.
Moreover, the secular democratic ethic suffers. Secularism was meant to guarantee freedom from both religious imposition and state hegemony. By dictating what counts as legitimate religion or acceptable education, the state becomes the arbiter of cultural survival – a role fundamentally incompatible with democratic pluralism.
Navigating Between Resistance and Reform
Despite being under pressure, many Muslim organisations and scholars have not resisted reform outright. Instead, they have argued for context-sensitive, community-driven change. Initiatives that blend Islamic pedagogy with modern disciplines have emerged, though often without sustained support from the state.
The Scheme for Providing Quality Education in Madrasas (SPQEM) is one such example, where promising ‘reforms’ were hampered by irregular funding and unclear policy directives. More productive would be frameworks that:
- Facilitate co-curricular innovation without undermining religious foundations.
- Ensure infrastructural support based on need, not on conformity to secular models.
- Recognise the cultural capital of minority institutions in shaping ethical, disciplined, and socially conscious citizens.
Courts, too, must embrace a posture of humility. When interpreting minority rights, especially those linked to education and faith, the judiciary must draw on cultural empathy, historical understanding, and the intent of the Constitution – not merely technical or majoritarian logic.
A National Choice Between Pluralism and Homogenisation
The ongoing redefinition of “religion” within India’s educational discourse is not just a semantic issue – it is an existential one. For Muslims, it affects whether their institutions can remain authentically theirs. For India, it tests whether its commitment to secularism is inclusive or merely uniform. A democracy cannot sustain itself on erasures. Cultural suppression, even in the name of reform, breeds cynicism and resistance. It is not pluralism that divides – it is its absence.
As India stands at a constitutional crossroads – with pending verdicts, reform policies, and ideological debates – the path forward must reflect not just legal reasoning, but moral imagination. The founding vision was clear: India was not meant to be a monologue of power but a dialogue of traditions.
The real challenge, then, is not in managing diversity – but in respecting it.
