India’s Waqf Amendment Act: An Assault on Muslim Autonomy?

India’s democracy, if one can still call it that, has once again revealed its true face. Beneath the facade of a secular republic, Prime Minister (PM) Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has relentlessly dismantled the very foundations of pluralism and equality. The Waqf (Amendment) Act 2025 is the latest and perhaps most brazen attempt to further entrench this majoritarian agenda. Pitched as a move for “transparency” and “efficiency,” the new law changes the Waqf Act 1995 in ways that many believe are far more insidious than administrative housekeeping. On the surface, it is about reform. In reality, it is a direct intrusion into the religious and institutional autonomy of India’s Muslim community.

The Waqf system is more than just a legal framework. It is an expression of Muslim philanthropy going back centuries—mosques, schools, graveyards, shrines, and public services funded through charitable endowments. Across India, waqf properties span nearly a million acres and are valued at more than $14 billion. These are not just religious sites, they are essential to the social and economic fabric of countless marginalised communities. And now, they are under threat.

Among the most controversial changes to the amendment is the inclusion of non-Muslims on waqf boards, bodies that have historically, and by constitutional convention, been under Muslim control. The Indian government insists this is merely administrative and does not constitute as a religious move. However, this claim does not hold up to scrutiny. In a country where Muslim homes are demolished without warning, and religious identity can determine one’s citizenship status or physical safety, the introduction of outsiders into Muslim religious institutions feels less like reform and more like calculated control.

This change cannot be viewed in isolation. It follows a series of state actions, such as the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), the National Register of Citizens (NRC), and the bulldozing of Muslim-owned homes, each of which chips away at the sense of belonging that Indian Muslims once had in India. When the state redefines who gets to manage Muslim endowments, it also signals who gets to define Muslim identity.

The Indian government claims the goal is to curb corruption and misuse of funds. If that were the case, meaningful consultation and internal reform would have been the logical steps. But that did not happen. Instead, the amendment was rushed through Parliament after a deeply polarising debate and amidst protests from civil society and religious leaders. As Rasheed Ahmed of the Indian American Muslim Council put it bluntly, this is not about fixing problems—this is about “creating legal mechanisms to dispossess the Muslim community of control over its assets.”

The All India Muslim Personal Law Board has condemned the move, warning that it violates key constitutional protections: Article 14 (equality), Article 15 (non-discrimination), Article 25 (freedom of religion), Article 26 (freedom to manage religious affairs), and Article 30 (minority rights to administer educational institutions). These are not abstract rights, they are the scaffolding of secularism in India.

Yet, this foundation is being steadily eroded by policies that starkly contradict the constitutional promise of religious neutrality. For instance, the revocation of Article 370 dismantled the political autonomy of India’s only Muslim-majority region. Similarly, policies like the hijab bans and the so-called “love jihad” laws intrude upon individual liberties under the guise of cultural conformity. Together, these measures reflect a calculated shift toward a majoritarian agenda. Rahul Gandhi, during the parliamentary debate, put it sharply: what targets Muslims today may target others tomorrow. Once the precedent is set that the state can redefine the management of religious institutions without consent or representation, there is no telling where the encroachments will stop.

The recent amendments to India’s Waqf laws have not gone unnoticed in Pakistan. The Foreign Office responded swiftly, criticising the law as a direct blow to the identity and rights of Indian Muslims. That sentiment has been echoed in Friday sermons, academic circles, and media discussions. What stands out is the contrast: while India seems to be tightening state control over religious endowments, Pakistan, despite its own challenges, still treats waqf as something to be safeguarded. In a region where identity politics often dictates policy, that difference speaks volumes.

At its heart, this is not just about land or endowments. It’s about identity, dignity, and the right to exist with equal rights under the law. The Waqf (Amendment) Act 2025 does not bring “Umeed” (hope), as the Indian government claims. It brings anxiety, resentment, and sense of alienation among millions of Indian Muslims who see not reform, but erasure.