While India has long witnessed episodic flashes of communal hostility or sporadic acts of vigilantism, the six-month period under study stands apart for its density, coordination, and geographic spread. Under Togadia’s polarising leadership, AHP and RBD conducted dozens of public rallies, Shastra Puja ceremonies, trishul and weapon distribution events, ideological training camps, anti-conversion protests, disruptions of minority religious gatherings, and direct interventions into interfaith and community life. The patterns revealed in these events are not incidental expressions of bigotry but components of a carefully structured ideological project that merges theology, masculinity, ritual, and violence into a coherent organisational strategy.

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The socio-legal significance of this mobilisation lies not only in the content of the speeches or the frequency of the gatherings but in the formation of a parallel normative order—a majoritarian apparatus that increasingly shapes public life, community relations, and the distribution of violence. AHP–RBD’s activities represent the consolidation of what may be termed an infrastructural form of vigilante sovereignty. In this system, communal identity becomes the organising principle of public order; violence is reimagined as moral duty; masculinity becomes a civic ideal; and the state’s authority is supplemented—or overridden—by militant religiosity. This is not a spontaneous phenomenon. It is patterned, scripted, routinised, and embedded in organisational structures that grant it continuity, reproducibility, and diffusion.

This article examines the six-month mobilisation through a socio-legal lens, drawing from an extensive dataset of AHP–RBD events across multiple states (see attached document for a comprehensive list). By tracing thematic narratives, analysing rhetorical patterns, studying ritual practices, and observing the organisation’s interactions with state institutions—particularly the police—we demonstrate how AHP–RBD’s activities signal a dangerous reconfiguration of India’s democratic order. The mobilisation reveals the emergence of a dual authority structure: the formal, constitutional state that guarantees equality, liberty, and religious freedom, a constitutional order that is being hollowed out; and a parallel, extra-legal majoritarian sovereignty that polices interfaith intimacy, adjudicates religious legitimacy, regulates gender and sexuality, and authorises violence in the name of community protection.

The implications for constitutional democracy are profound. AHP–RBD’s activities challenge the secular and egalitarian commitments of the Constitution. More critically, they expose how these commitments are weakened not only through state action but through state inaction—through selective policing, tacit endorsement, rhetorical alignment, or the silent normalisation of extremist discourse. As hate becomes publicly permissible, minority communities experience shrinking civic space, and majoritarian aggression becomes an accepted instrument of social control.

From a social movement perspective, AHP–RBD functions as a radical flank within the wider Hindutva ecosystem. By expanding the boundaries of extreme speech and acceptable violence, it shifts the Overton window rightward and allows mainstream political actors to appear moderate while benefiting from the emotional climate generated by extremist mobilisation. From a legal standpoint, the group’s actions—ranging from hate speech and incitement to weapons handling and vigilantism—constitute repeated violations of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, the Arms Act, and fundamental constitutional rights.

This article argues that AHP–RBD’s mobilisation is not merely evidence of rising majoritarian aggression but an indication of a new mode of communal politics—one that fuses ritual, masculinity, religious symbolism, historical revisionism, and legal ambiguity into a potent political formation. It is both ideological and infrastructural, capable of generating continuity, producing cadres, shaping emotional climates, and influencing electoral behaviour. To understand its legal implications, we must move beyond individual violations and analyse the broader socio-legal transformation it represents: the gradual emergence of a parallel polity that threatens to displace constitutional democracy from within.

From VHP margins to radical extremist formation

Praveen Togadia, a trained cancer surgeon, entered the arena of Hindu nationalism through the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and subsequently rose to –or was ordained to–become the International Working President of the Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP). This period was his political crucible. He distinguished himself through militant cultural mobilisation, most notably the organisation of ‘Trishul Deeksha’ (trident distribution) ceremonies for Bajrang Dal activists, a direct act of communal provocation and arms dissemination that often-violated state bans.

The Bajrang Dal, the original youth wing of VHP, provided the blueprint for AHP-RBD’s operational tactics. Its foundational ideology—Hindutva, Islamophobia, and a far-right position—was perfected during the Ram Janmabhoomi movement and the subsequent Gujarat pogrom of 2002, where Togadia’s influence was significant. For a previous and thorough analysis of Togadia’s antecedents and actions, see the May 2003 issue of Communalism Combat, Against the Law.[1] The Bajrang Dal legacy of violence and communal targeting, from anti-Christian attacks to ‘moral policing,’ is the exact ideological inheritance upon which the AHP-RBD is built.

The AHP-RBD is Togadia’s vehicle to claim his position as the authentic voice of uncompromising, hardline Hindutva. This background explains several features of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation:

• its rhetorical extremism, which goes beyond even the most polarising elements within mainstream Hindutva;
• its obsession with demographic fear and gender policing;
• its reliance on ritual militarisation as a means of identity formation;
• its disregard for legality and due process;
• and its strategic positioning as a radical flank to the BJP, indirectly reinforcing the latter’s political dominance.

AHP–RBD is a product of ideological intensification, organisational displacement, and the opportunities created by a political climate increasingly tolerant of majoritarian aggression. It thrives in the gaps between state authority and nationalist discourse—in the ambiguities of legal enforcement, the ambivalence of political leadership, and the anxieties of a society grappling with polarisation, insecurity, and historical grievance.

Hate as a structure- analysis of the pattern

The events analysed in this article consists of detailed descriptions of AHP–RBD events across India between April and November 2025. These events include rallies, speeches, religious ceremonies, festivals, weapons training camps, “awareness” drives, protests against minority institutions, processions, and interventions in local disputes. Each event contains descriptive information about the location, the nature of the activity, the content of speeches, the symbols deployed, the performative elements (such as tridents, swords, firearms), and the presence or absence of police.

Through this article, the events of the past six months are seen not as a collection of isolated incidents but as an aggregated structure—a corpus of political performance through which a particular vision of the nation, society, and citizenship is constructed and enacted.

Based on the data, a clear pattern emerges in the language and symbolic repertoire deployed across AHP events. Hate speech, in this context, must be understood not simply as verbal hostility but as a technique of discursive engineering—an organised method of drawing communal boundaries, allocating moral worth, identifying enemies, and legitimising forms of aggression. Across states and settings, the same tropes reappear with remarkable consistency: demographic panic, the spectre of “love jihad,” historical grievance, territorial loss, and civilisational threat. These are not spontaneous utterances but components of a deliberate ideological script crafted to evoke fear, shame, pride, and defensive anger in the audience.

Equally revealing is the ritualised dimension of the mobilisation. Ceremonies such as Shastra Puja, Trishul Deeksha, communal sword-blessing, or the devotional display of firearms function as much more than cultural performances. They represent attempts to sacralise violence by embedding it directly into religious and moral practice. When weapons are blessed, displayed, and circulated as objects of collective reverence, the boundary between devotion and aggression collapses. Drawing from anthropological work on ritual and theories of political religion, this analysis reads such events as performative acts that create a moral obligation toward vigilantism. They invite participants to imagine themselves not merely as believers but as defenders, making violence appear righteous and necessary.

The data also reveals how AHP–RBD positions itself as a source of extra-legal authority. In numerous instances, cadres assume functions associated with policing: intervening in interfaith relationships, raiding churches or prayer meetings, detaining individuals accused of “suspicious” behaviour, or monitoring localities under the guise of protection. Viewed through socio-legal theory, these actions are not isolated encroachments but indicators of a parallel governance structure. AHP effectively performs sovereign functions—identifying threats, enforcing discipline, and adjudicating moral transgressions—thus competing with the state’s monopoly over lawful coercion. Vigilantism here becomes a mode of rule, not an aberration.

Placed against constitutional and statutory frameworks, the significance of this pattern becomes sharper. The organisation’s rhetoric raises questions under hate-speech jurisprudence; its weaponised rituals potentially violate the Arms Act; its interventions into religious practice implicate Articles 25 and 26; and its targeting of Muslim and Christian communities challenges the equality guarantees of Articles 14 and 15. The concern is not the presence of individual violations but the cumulative erosion of constitutional norms they represent. As such practices become normalised, the protective architecture of fundamental rights weakens, and the boundaries between state authority and majoritarian desire blur.

Seen through the lens of social movement theory, this mobilisation aligns with what many term a radical flank: an extremist wing of a broader ideological ecosystem that shifts public norms by expanding the limits of permissible discourse. AHP’s open hostility, explicit calls for social segregation, and sacralised vigilantism create a climate in which mainstream political actors appear moderate even as they move closer to majoritarian positions. The dataset illustrates how such fringe rhetoric does not remain at the edges but gradually migrates toward the centre of political common sense, fuelling polarisation and recalibrating the moral thresholds of democratic life.

The analysis therefore treats hate not as a series of discrete incidents but as a structure—an enduring architecture embedded in speech, ritual, space, and authority. Mobilisation is read as a continuous process of meaning-making, one that is inseparable from legality, identity, and the distribution of state power. Recurrent performances of communal hostility gradually establish new baselines for what counts as acceptable public behaviour, shifting social norms long before laws change. At the same time, the analysis foregrounds how extra-legal actors strategically exploit legal ambiguities and enforcement gaps to assert control over public space, intimate life, religious practice, and everyday social relations. In this view, hate operates both as discourse and governance, reshaping the moral and constitutional landscape from below.

1. Majoritarianism, vigilante sovereignty, and the production of fear

To understand AHP–RBD’s mobilisation based on the data, the organisation must be placed within three key theoretical perspectives: majoritarian nationalism, vigilante sovereignty, and the politics of fear. Majoritarian nationalism describes systems where one religious or ethnic community is treated as the true owner of the nation, while minorities are viewed as conditional members or potential threats. This framework aligns closely with AHP–RBD’s speeches, which repeatedly frame India as a Hindu nation and portray Muslims and Christians as outsiders who must be monitored or restrained.

The idea of vigilante sovereignty helps explain how non-state groups act like extensions of the state. Such groups enforce moral rules, police communities, intervene in personal relationships, and sometimes use or threaten violence. AHP–RBD’s raids, detentions, and street-level interventions fit this pattern, challenging the state’s exclusive right to use force and maintain public order.

The politics of fear shows how movements rely on fear not only as an emotion but as a tool of mobilisation. By invoking demographic threats, “love jihad,” religious conversion conspiracies, and historic betrayals, AHP–RBD creates an atmosphere of danger that makes aggressive action seem justified. Fear becomes the glue that binds supporters together and the justification for exceptional attitudes and behaviours.

In a one-sided political vacuum where the Opposition is yet to come up with a convincing, consistent and effective response to all the hyper claims made in hate speeches unleashed –be it on “demographic fear”, the “communal regulation of intimacy”, “ritual militarisation” and strong, street-level enforcement(s) of the rule of law, this vigilantism goes unchecked.

2. The politics of demographic fear

Demographic fear sits at the heart of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation strategy. Across the six-month dataset, leaders repeatedly promote the idea that Hindus are on the verge of becoming a minority and that Muslims are growing in number with deliberate, strategic intent. This narrative is presented as unquestionable fact. It relies less on evidence and more on repetition, emotion, and imagery: Muslims are described as multiplying rapidly, expanding territorially, organising politically, and threatening the very survival of the nation.

Although demographic anxiety has long existed within Hindu nationalist thought, AHP–RBD deploys it with unusual intensity and uniformity. Whether speaking in Ahmedabad, rural Maharashtra, small towns in Uttar Pradesh, or border districts in Assam, leaders use almost the same script: Hindus are shrinking; Muslims are taking over land; demographic imbalance will end Hindu civilisation; Muslim “vote banks” control politics; and Hindu women face imminent danger. The consistency of this message across regions reveals a coordinated ideological project rather than scattered local sentiment.

Viewed through a socio-legal lens, demographic fear acts as a political tool. It creates a sense of permanent emergency, shaping the present through imagined threats from the future. In this atmosphere, constitutional norms appear inadequate. Hate speech is reframed as a “warning,” weapons training becomes “protection,” and vigilantism is cast as “preventive action.” Even constitutional equality is portrayed as a risk Hindus can no longer afford.

Demographic fear also becomes a way of mapping territory. Several speeches describe Muslim-majority areas as “occupied zones,” “mini-Pakistans,” or “Bangladeshi territories.” This transforms ordinary patterns of residence or work into symbols of invasion. A Muslim neighbourhood becomes hostile territory; daily life becomes evidence of encroachment.

Socially, demographic fear collapses individuals into a threatening collective. A Muslim child becomes a sign of “population jihad,” a Muslim family becomes a plan of conquest, and a Muslim locality becomes a base of expansion. This removes any possibility of seeing Muslims as citizens or neighbours. They are recast as demographic threats, not people. Such dehumanisation makes discriminatory acts or violence appear justified.

At the same time, demographic fear reshapes Hindu identity. It portrays Hindus as vulnerable and under siege, encourages men to adopt a protector role, and frames women as symbols of community honour. This narrative helps unify diverse Hindu groups around a shared sense of danger and duty. In speech after speech, AHP leaders ask Hindus to “wake up,” “stay alert,” and “prepare for struggle.” Fear becomes a tool for building collective identity.

Legally, demographic fear is not just misleading—it is harmful. It fuels discrimination, normalises exclusion, and creates justification for violence. Indian constitutional law, especially in hate speech cases such as Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan (2014) and Amish Devgan (2020), makes clear that speech portraying an entire community as dangerous violates equality, dignity, and public order. Yet at many AHP–RBD events, police and local authorities stand by, signalling that such rhetoric is tolerated. This gap between constitutional protection and on-ground practice allows demographic fear to circulate freely and take root in public life.

In the end, demographic fear is the foundation on which AHP–RBD’s entire mobilisation rests. It casts Muslims as permanent adversaries, turns reproduction into a battleground, and provides justification for weapons rituals, gender policing, vigilantism, and calls for segregation or violence. Without demographic fear, much of AHP’s narrative loses force. With it, almost any action becomes thinkable.

3. Gender, sexuality, and the communal regulation of intimacy

Gender and sexuality lie at the centre of AHP–RBD’s ideological project. Although the organisation claims to defend “Hindu dharma” and “protect Hindu women,” its speeches reveal a deeply patriarchal, hyper-masculine, and communal vision in which women’s bodies and choices are controlled in the name of community honour. The conspiracy theory of “love jihad”—the claim that Muslim men intentionally form relationships with Hindu women to convert them and weaken Hindu society—functions as the main tool for this control.

Nearly half the events in the data refer directly to “love jihad.” This is not accidental. It reflects a worldview in which gender becomes the most important site of communal conflict. Hindu women are portrayed as innocent, gullible, and easily manipulated. Muslim men are cast as predatory, cunning, and hypersexual. This binary has no factual basis, but it is designed to justify constant vigilance, suspicion, and hostility.

Within AHP–RBD’s discourse, the Hindu woman is not treated as an autonomous individual with constitutional rights. Instead, she is imagined as the carrier of Hindu lineage and the symbol of community purity. Her body becomes communal property; her relationships are judged through the lens of demographic threat. Any interfaith relationship is interpreted as coercive by default. By denying Hindu women agency, the organisation turns them into objects of protection rather than subjects of choice.

This framework produces three major socio-legal consequences.

• First, it legitimises the surveillance of women. AHP–RBD members monitor public spaces—markets, colleges, workplaces—to watch interactions between Hindu women and Muslim men. Their presence creates an environment of constant scrutiny. Hindu women become boundary markers rather than free citizens, their mobility and friendships policed in the name of protection.

• Second, it encourages violence against Muslim men. In many speeches, Muslim men are presented as inherent threats, and audiences are urged to confront, punish, or even kill them. Such rhetoric directly violates the BNS and constitutional guarantees of equality and personal liberty. Yet these statements are made openly, often with police present, signalling that communal violence in the name of gender protection is tolerated.

• Third, this discourse undermines constitutional rights. The Supreme Court in Hadiya affirmed that adults are free to choose their partners. Judgments in Shafin Jahan, Navtej Johar, and Puttaswamy recognise autonomy, dignity, and privacy as core constitutional values. AHP–RBD’s mobilisation, however, replaces individual autonomy with communal control. Interfaith relationships are reframed as conspiracies, and constitutional protections are cast as threats to Hindu survival.

Sociologically, this gendered narrative binds Hindu men together through a shared sense of masculine duty. The call to protect Hindu women becomes a mechanism for creating solidarity among Hindu men. Masculinity is defined in militarised terms—strength, vigilance, and readiness for confrontation. Rituals such as weapon worship or trishul distribution reinforce this ideal. In effect, gender becomes a tool for producing a community of men primed for conflict.

“Love jihad” is therefore not only a myth or a political slogan. It is a central organising principle of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation. It regulates women’s autonomy, fuels hostility against Muslim men, strengthens group identity, and provides moral justification for vigilante action. It transforms everyday intimacy into a battleground and reimagines private relationships as matters of communal survival.

4. Ritual militarisation and the sacralisation of violence

One of the most notable features of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation is the central role of ritual in normalising violence. The dataset records numerous events involving Shastra Puja (weapon worship), Trishul Deeksha (the distribution of tridents), firearm training sessions, self-defence workshops, and public displays of swords, guns, and tridents. These are not decorative additions to political gatherings. They form the core of the organisation’s ideological strategy.

Shastra Puja, traditionally a religious ritual, is given a distinctly political meaning in AHP–RBD events. In Togadia’s speeches, weapons are celebrated not for their symbolism but for their function: the ability to defend the Hindu community through force. Swords stand for courage, tridents for purity, and guns for preparedness. When weapons are blessed, violence itself is blessed. The ritual frame offers moral cover for aggression, allowing political intent to hide behind religious practice.

Trishul Deeksha takes this further. Distributing tridents to young men is presented as a religious initiation, but it effectively creates a pool of recruits marked as “defenders of Dharma.” These tridents act as identity symbols—visible signs of readiness for confrontation. Such initiation rituals resemble practices used by militant groups in other contexts, where symbolic objects bind participants emotionally to the idea of collective struggle.

The presence of firearm training raises serious legal concerns. Under the Arms Act, handling or training with weapons requires strict permissions. Yet AHP–RBD frequently holds such sessions in public, often without police objection. Firearm training serves two purposes: it teaches practical skills and signals that the organisation sees itself as a force parallel to the state. It implies that AHP–RBD does not accept the state’s monopoly over violence.

From a sociological perspective, these rituals work to create a sense of community built around aggression. They produce male-dominated spaces where violence is sanctified, celebrated, and practiced. Religious devotion merges with militant nationalism, creating what scholars call a “sacralised polity”—a political identity shaped through ritualised displays of strength and readiness for conflict.

The socio-legal implications are far-reaching. Ritual militarisation dissolves boundaries between religion and politics, symbolism and force, legality and illegality. It creates a community that believes it has a moral right—perhaps even an obligation—to act outside the law. Weapons become sacred objects, violence becomes a communal act, and vigilantism becomes a perceived duty. In doing so, these rituals undermine the fundamental principle that only the state may use legitimate force, eroding a key pillar of constitutional democracy.

5. Territorial mythology, historical revisionism, and the spatialisation of hate

A key feature of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation is the way it reimagines geography and history through a communal lens. The organisation does not limit itself to present-day political disputes; it draws from a broad mix of mythologised history, civilisational claims, and territorial grievance. This revisionism is not merely cultural. It is a strategic attempt to redefine who belongs to the nation, who owns its land, and who has moral authority over its public and sacred spaces. Claims that global religious sites—Mecca, Medina, the Vatican—were once Hindu temples are historically baseless, but they serve an ideological purpose. They create a narrative in which Hindu civilisation is the original owner of sacred geography, and Islam and Christianity are portrayed as late, intrusive forces that took what was not theirs.

This worldview forms the core of AHP’s political theology. Hinduism is framed as the world’s first civilisation and the rightful custodian of global sacred space. Muslims and Christians are described as foreign arrivals, civilisational disturbers, and historical invaders. This racialised framing attempts to detach Indian Muslims and Christians from national belonging itself. If even Mecca is described as stolen Hindu territory, the implication is clear: if global Islamic spaces are illegitimate, then Indian Muslims’ connection to India is even more fragile.

These ideas have concrete socio-legal effects. Outlandish territorial claims become the basis for communal mobilisation. The demand to “reclaim” Kashi or Mathura is not an isolated argument about specific temples; it rests on a broader theory that all Muslim religious structures were built on destroyed Hindu sites. Mosques are reframed as symbols of past defeat. Muslim presence becomes a reminder of humiliation. Violence, in this worldview, becomes not aggression but restitution—an attempt to “correct history.”

This spatial politics is reinforced by emotionally charged language. Muslims are frequently described as “occupiers,” “encroachers,” “land-grabbers,” “Bangladeshis,” or “jihadi settlers.” These labels turn ordinary residential areas into imagined battlegrounds. Citizenship becomes a form of occupancy, always at risk of being revoked. In cities like Ahmedabad and Vadodara, leaders claim that Muslim-majority areas function as “no-go zones,” suggesting that the state has lost control over its own territory. Even though such claims lack factual basis, they generate territorial fear—a sense that Hindus are losing physical ground within their own homeland.

AHP’s territorial imagination therefore operates as a project of remaking India’s social geography. It asserts Hindu ownership over land, temples, cultural memory, and even urban space. It calls for active “reclaiming,” often framed as a religious duty. Ayodhya is invoked repeatedly as proof that reclamation is both possible and necessary; from this starting point, Kashi, Mathura, and numerous other sites are presented as the next steps in a never-ending civilisational project. The logic then extends beyond religious sites to entire regions. Districts in Assam, border areas in West Bengal, and parts of Uttar Pradesh or Karnataka are portrayed as “Hindu land under occupation.”

This mythologised re-territorialisation creates an atmosphere where violence becomes spatially authorised. Areas labelled as “occupied” become legitimate targets. Local Muslim communities are cast as heirs of historical invaders. Calls for “ghar wapsi” (re-conversion) sit alongside calls for the physical return of land and shrines. Space itself becomes a tool for asserting dominance.

Constitutionally, this spatialised rhetoric cuts at the heart of India’s secular framework. It undermines equal citizenship, freedom of religion, and the principle that every person belongs to the nation regardless of ancestry or historical claims. The Constitution does not recognise civilisational ownership as a basis for citizenship or territorial rights. Yet AHP’s vision creates precisely this hierarchy, reducing minorities to conditional members whose belonging is always in question.

By turning geography into ideology and history into grievance, AHP reshapes the everyday landscape of citizenship. Places where Muslims live, work, study, or pray are reframed as contested space. The symbolic “reclaiming” of Ayodhya, Kashi, and Mathura becomes a template for local domination. In this way, territorial mythology becomes a form of mobilisation, transforming public space into a site of communal assertion and fear.

6. Vigilante sovereignty and the emergence of extra-legal authority

A striking pattern across the six-month dataset is AHP–RBD’s routine assumption of policing powers in public life. The organisation intervenes in interfaith relationships, raids Christian prayer meetings, stops or disrupts mosque construction, questions Muslim men in public spaces, conducts anti-conversion patrols, and targets activities it labels as threats to “Hindu interests.” These are not isolated excesses. Together, they form a consistent system of vigilante sovereignty—where a non-state group exercises coercive authority normally held by the state. The singular impunity enjoyed by them is reflected in the wilful inaction of the police and administration wherever such rallies are/may be held.

Vigilante sovereignty describes situations in which the state’s exclusive control over violence weakens, and ideological groups step in to enforce their own moral and communal rules. AHP–RBD does not simply break the law; it creates an alternative legal order grounded in majoritarian claims rather than constitutional principles. Under this order, minorities are treated as security risks, women’s choices are subject to policing, and dissent becomes dangerous.

This vigilante order is maintained through three connected practices: surveillance, intervention, and punishment.

• Surveillance involves monitoring interfaith couples, tracking alleged conversions, observing the building or renovation of mosques, keeping watch on Muslim-owned businesses, and noting “suspicious” gatherings. This is not state surveillance—it is community surveillance. AHP cadres patrol local areas, monitor social media, gather information through informal networks, and maintain lists of individuals labelled as threats. Public safety is redefined to mean Hindu security; the presence of Muslims is framed as danger.
• Intervention is the next step. AHP–RBD members frequently enter private or semi-private spaces—homes, shops, churches, prayer halls, schools—to stop activities they see as harmful. These interventions often occur in the presence of police. In many events, police officers accompany AHP cadres when confronting interfaith couples or disrupting prayer meetings. The police rarely intervene to protect constitutional rights. This signals a breakdown of state neutrality and a sharing of authority between state and vigilante actors.
• Punishment is the final mechanism. Punishment may take the form of threats, public shaming, calls for economic boycotts, harassment, or physical assault. In several speeches, AHP leaders openly call for killing Muslim men accused of forming relationships with Hindu women. Such statements amount to direct criminal incitement, yet legal action is rare or non-existent. This impunity reinforces the belief that AHP is entitled to enforce its own version of justice.

The growth of vigilante sovereignty signals a larger transformation in India’s political culture: the emergence of a dual legal order. One order is constitutional, grounded in equality, dignity, personal liberty, and religious freedom. The other is majoritarian, grounded in identity, hierarchy, and demographic fear. AHP–RBD’s activities show that in many contexts, the majoritarian order is beginning to overshadow the constitutional one.

This shift carries serious jurisprudential consequences. The Constitution assumes that the state alone protects rights and wields legitimate force. When non-state actors take on state functions—raiding, interrogating, disciplining—without consequence, the constitutional promise collapses. What emerges is a patchwork of informal jurisdictions where constitutional rights are selectively enforced or suspended. These are not declared emergencies; they are silent, everyday suspensions made possible by police complicity, public fear, and the normalisation of hate.

This pattern is not unique to India. Similar dynamics have appeared in other democracies under strain: paramilitary groups in Colombia, extremist Buddhist groups in Myanmar, anti-Muslim vigilantes in Sri Lanka, and evangelical militias in Brazil. In each case, vigilante sovereignty grew when governments aligned themselves with majoritarian ideologies, allowing the line between state and militia to blur.

AHP–RBD’s actions place India on a comparable path. By intervening in relationships, the organisation claims control over personal freedom. By stopping prayer meetings, it claims control over religious expression. By patrolling public spaces, it claims control over visibility and movement. Through weapons training and youth mobilisation, it claims control over violence itself.

The consequences are profound. Vigilante sovereignty normalises discrimination, encourages extremism, weakens formal policing, and turns public space into a site of communal conflict. It reduces minority communities to conditional citizens whose rights depend on majoritarian approval. And it undermines constitutional remedies, because the harm is inflicted not directly by the state but by private actors operating with state tolerance.

The rise of this parallel authority may be one of the most serious threats facing India’s constitutional democracy today. It is not a temporary disruption. It is a developing system of governance—one that allocates coercive power along communal lines and embeds majoritarian dominance into everyday life.

7. The expansion of hostility toward Christians

Although Muslims remain the primary focus of AHP–RBD’s mobilisation, the dataset shows a clear and growing hostility toward Christians. This appears in speeches, protests against churches, disruptions of prayer meetings, accusations of forced conversion, and repeated rhetorical attacks on Christian institutions. The widening of the “enemy” category—from Muslims alone to Muslims and Christians together—signals a broader ideological ambition: the construction of a multi-target hate regime capable of policing all religious minorities under a single civilisational narrative.

The language used against Christians differs in content but mirrors the structure of anti-Muslim rhetoric. Muslims are portrayed as demographic threats; Christians as conversion threats. Muslims are framed as territorial and violent; Christians as deceptive and manipulative. Muslims are labelled infiltrators; Christians are labelled converters. Both sets of stereotypes reduce entire communities to singular, hostile identities serving a supposed anti-Hindu agenda.

This hostility toward Christians draws from a long-standing theme in Hindu nationalist thought. Since the colonial period, Christian missionaries have been depicted as foreign agents seeking to weaken Hindu culture through conversion. AHP–RBD revives this suspicion and blends it with contemporary anxieties about globalisation. Small prayer gatherings are described as “conversion factories,” and Christian charities are accused of hiding evangelism behind social service. Christian organisations are framed as part of a global conspiracy to destabilise India.

In multiple documented incidents, AHP members raided modest prayer meetings—often held in private homes or rented halls. These gatherings involved small groups reading scripture or singing hymns. Yet AHP cadres portrayed them as illegal conversion activities, despite any evidence. In some cases, police stood by silently or cooperated with the vigilantes. This produces a chilling effect: ordinary Christians fear harassment simply for assembling to pray.

Such acts strike at the heart of Article 25 of the Constitution, which protects the freedom to practise and profess religion. While propagation may be regulated, peaceful prayer cannot be criminalised. AHP’s interventions amount to an informal ban on Christian worship, undermining both religious freedom and equal citizenship.

At a strategic level, anti-Christian rhetoric helps AHP broaden its reach. By depicting Christians as agents of foreign powers, the organisation taps into nationalist anxieties about global influence and cultural loss. This narrative complements anti-Muslim fear: one enemy threatens demographics; the other threatens culture. Together, they create a sense of constant siege and justify continuous mobilisation. Unlike anti-Muslim mobilisation, which is often localised, anti-Christian mobilisation can be deployed even where Christians are few, giving AHP a tool for organising in diverse regions.

This has political effects as well. Christian communities often support opposition parties in states like Kerala, Goa, and parts of the Northeast. Intimidating these communities weakens their political engagement, reduces turnout, and disrupts civil society networks. Fear becomes a quiet form of electoral influence.

The hostility toward Christians is therefore not a minor extension of communal rhetoric. It reflects an attempt to define Indian identity through exclusion—to construct Hindu majoritarianism as the only legitimate form of belonging. In such a framework, constitutional rights become conditional, minority presence becomes suspect, and religious freedom exists more on paper than in daily life.

By targeting both Muslims and Christians, AHP–RBD is building a broader authoritarian cultural order. This multi-target hate regime claims the power to decide which religions are acceptable, whose practices are legitimate, and whose presence is a threat. It marks a deepening of communal authoritarianism in contemporary India—one that endangers minority rights and undermines the secular, democratic foundations of the Constitution.

The Regional Geography of Mobilisation: Spatial clusters, localised idioms, and the federal life of hate

The six-month dataset shows that AHP–RBD’s mobilisation is not uniform across India. It is spatially strategic. Events cluster in states where demographic anxieties, political incentives, and weak institutional checks come together. Each state reveals a distinct pattern of hate mobilisation, shaped by its own history, politics, and social structure.

Uttar Pradesh is the epicentre. The volume and aggression of AHP–RBD events are highest here. UP’s large Muslim population, history of communal violence, and increasingly majoritarian state machinery create a permissive environment. Leaders use UP platforms to deliver the most direct threats—calling for violence, monitoring interfaith couples, and enforcing social boycotts. Police often stand alongside AHP speakers, giving hate speech an aura of official sanction. In UP, the line between state power and vigilante action is blurred.

Gujarat functions as the ideological centre. Many of Togadia’s longest, most doctrinal speeches—on demographic war, civilisational supremacy, and global conspiracies—are delivered here. Gujarat’s political ecosystem, shaped by 2002 and deep institutional alignment with Hindutva, enables a more elaborate and ritualised form of mobilisation. The tone is less about street-level confrontation and more about sweeping historical claims and grand narratives of Hindu civilisation.

Maharashtra shows a dual pattern. In cities like Mumbai, Thane, and Pune, AHP focuses on rhetoric of “security,” appealing to middle-class anxieties. In semi-urban and rural belts—Jalgaon, Nashik, Dhule, Vidarbha—mobilisation becomes more militant, involving trishul distribution, Shastra Puja, and weapons demonstrations. Shivaji iconography and Maratha pride blend easily with AHP’s narrative of Hindu power and historical grievance.

Assam presents a different dynamic. Here, AHP taps into long-standing regional fears around migration and citizenship. The rhetoric of “Bangladeshi infiltration” dominates. Muslims of Bengali origin are framed as illegal occupiers rather than religious minorities. AHP simply amplifies anxieties already sharpened by the NRC, Foreigners Tribunals, and decades of political debate. The result is a powerful fusion of local ethnic fears and national Hindutva narratives.

Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, and Rajasthan serve as logistical hubs. These states host training camps, weapons rituals, and “awareness” programmes. The geography—forests, small towns, dispersed settlements—allows AHP to conduct paramilitary-style activities away from media scrutiny. The events may be less dramatic, but they are organisationally vital, producing cadres, distributing weapons, and building networks.

In Delhi, Haryana, Punjab, and Jammu, the mobilisation takes on distinct urban and border-specific tones. Delhi and NCR adopt a language of “national security,” framing hate as patriotism. Punjab’s smaller mobilisation focuses on anti-conversion rhetoric targeting Christian communities. In Jammu, AHP flattens the region’s complex social fabric into a simple Hindu–Muslim divide, feeding nationalistic grievance.

Taken together, these regional patterns show that AHP–RBD does not operate through a single model of mobilisation. It adapts to local fears, political opportunities, and cultural idioms. It can present itself as a militant outfit in one state, a cultural organisation in another, a devotional group elsewhere, or a community policing force where it faces little resistance. This spatial flexibility gives the organisation resilience and reach. It allows hate politics to be localised, normalised, and embedded in everyday life.

Understanding this spatial architecture is essential. It reveals that AHP–RBD is not just an ideological movement but a multi-scalar ecosystem—national in message, regional in form, and local in execution. This adaptability is what makes it both potent and difficult to regulate through conventional legal and administrative frameworks.

Electoral effects and the radical flank mechanism

AHP–RBD’s six-month mobilisation cannot be understood in isolation from India’s electoral landscape. Although the organisation is not seen formally part of the BJP–RSS structure, its activities consistently reinforce the BJP’s broader political strategy. Real and organisational connections also probably exist though these have not been publicly flaunted. The relationship is best explained through the “radical flank effect”—a social movement theory concept that describes how extremist groups shift public norms, allowing more “moderate” groups to appear reasonable while advancing a shared ideological agenda.

In practice, AHP–RBD performs the role of the radical flank. Its open calls for violence, its vigilante actions, and its demonisation of minorities create a political climate saturated with fear. Once such fear becomes ambient, the BJP’s own rhetoric—often couched in coded terms—appears centrist in comparison. When AHP demands expulsion of Muslims from certain areas, the BJP’s policies of strict policing or exclusionary welfare seem moderate. When AHP–RBD cadres raid prayer gatherings or harass interfaith couples, the BJP’s strong law-and-order posturing appears lawful rather than coercive. This triangulation enables the BJP to benefit from the emotional climate created by extremism without openly endorsing it.

Electoral data and field patterns show that regions with intense AHP–RBD activity often see heightened Hindu electoral consolidation. This shift does not require explicit coordination. It arises organically from the affective environment created by sustained hate mobilisation. When public discourse is filled with messages of demographic threat, “love jihad,” conversions, or “jihadist infiltration,” voters gravitate toward the party they perceive as the defender of Hindu security. Fear becomes the emotional engine of communal voting.

AHP–RBD’s activities also directly affect minority political participation. The intimidation of Muslim and Christian communities suppresses voter turnout, discourages public meetings, and deters grassroots organising. In regions with politically active Christian electorates—such as Goa, Kerala, Mizoram, and parts of the Northeast—the targeting of prayer gatherings and church-related activities has measurable political consequences. Fear reduces both visibility and voice.

The organisation also shapes elections by dominating local discourse. Its rallies receive disproportionate coverage in local media, creating a sense of tension even where none existed. Communal narratives crowd out issues like unemployment, inflation, agrarian distress, and welfare delivery. Once the baseline of public conversation shifts, secular concerns struggle to regain ground. Elections become referendums on identity rather than governance.

Finally, AHP–RBD acts as an ideological incubator. Themes it promotes aggressively—population control laws, campaigns against conversions, temple “reclamation,” policing of interfaith relationships—often migrate into mainstream party agendas or media debates. The journey from fringe to centre is gradual but unmistakable. Over time, these ideas stop appearing extreme and begin to seem like common sense.

The cumulative effect is a rightward shift of the entire political spectrum. Opposition parties find themselves forced to respond to issues defined by extremist actors. Centrist figures adopt majoritarian language to avoid appearing “anti-Hindu.” The space for dissent contracts. Minority political participation shrinks. Hate normalises itself within democratic life.

In this way, AHP–RBD’s impact is not limited to specific constituencies or elections. It reshapes the broader architecture of electoral politics. It alters what counts as legitimate speech, permissible demands, and acceptable public sentiment. It reconfigures the emotional and ideological terrain on which elections are fought. It changes the grammar of Indian democracy.

Legal Analysis: Hate speech, vigilantism, arms violations, and constitutional breaches

The six-month dataset reveals a consistent pattern of conduct that amounts to repeated, systemic, and often explicit violations of Indian criminal law and constitutional guarantees. These are not accidental excesses or spontaneous eruptions; they are central to AHP–RBD’s mode of mobilisation. Understanding their legal significance requires situating them within four frameworks: (1) hate speech and criminal incitement under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), (2) vigilantism and due process violations, (3) illegal weapons display and training under the Arms Act, and (4) breaches of fundamental rights under the Constitution.

Hate speech and incitement: Indian hate speech jurisprudence—through Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan, Amish Devgan, S. Rangarajan, and the Delhi High Court’s rulings on inflammatory rhetoric—draws a clear distinction between offensive speech and speech that actively threatens public order or incites enmity. AHP–RBD’s rhetoric consistently falls in the latter category.

Statements urging violence against Muslim men, portraying Muslims as territorial invaders, or suggesting that Hindu women are targets of organised conspiracies constitute direct criminal incitement. Allegations that Muslims intend to “capture territory,” “eradicate Hindu civilisation,” or “control Hindu women” invoke the exact categories of prohibited speech under BNS provisions relating to public tranquillity and enmity between groups.

The dataset reveals a striking enforcement vacuum. Police presence at events where this rhetoric is openly delivered suggests not neutrality but deliberate non-enforcement. This institutional reluctance enables the normalisation of hate—from legal violation to public common sense—and marks a failure of the state’s constitutional obligation to ensure equal protection of the law.

Vigilantism and violations of due process: AHP–RBD repeatedly assumes policing functions: detaining individuals, interrogating alleged offenders, conducting raids on prayer gatherings, and enforcing communal boundaries. These actions strike at the core of Articles 21 and 22, which guarantee personal liberty and protection from arbitrary detention.

The Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in Tehseen Poonawalla (2018) imposes a positive duty on the state to prevent vigilante violence and prosecute perpetrators. Yet the dataset shows the opposite pattern—police inaction, presence without intervention, and in some cases, tacit collaboration. This creates a regime of dual policing:

• one legal, constitutional, and equal (in principle);
• the other informal, communal, and majoritarian (in practice).

Such a regime violates the constitutional commitment to secularism and the rule of law—principles recognised as part of the Basic Structure Doctrine. Vigilantism thus becomes not merely unlawful conduct but a challenge to constitutional sovereignty itself.

Illegal weapons display and training: AHP–RBD’s mobilisation features widespread use of weapons—swords, tridents, and firearms—through Shastra Puja, Trishul Deeksha, public marches, and explicit weapons training camps. Under the Arms Act, the display of many of these weapons in public or the provision of combat training requires stringent licensing.

The documented events violate these norms on multiple fronts. Weapons are not incidental accessories—they are ritual objects, identity markers, and instruments of political signalling. The religious consecration of weapons grants moral cover to acts that would otherwise attract immediate criminal sanction.

The legal concern is compounded by state inaction. When police stand by as weapons are worshipped, circulated, or used in training sessions, the constitutional principle that the state holds the exclusive right to deploy legitimate force becomes diluted. India’s long-standing policy of keeping arms out of civilian political mobilisation begins to erode, replaced by a permissive environment for private militias.

Violations of fundamental rights: The cumulative effect of AHP–RBD’s actions is a sustained infringement of the constitutional rights of religious minorities.

• Article 14 is violated through targeted discrimination and differential protection.
• Article 15 is breached when segregation, exclusion, or targeted hostility is encouraged.
• Article 19(1)(b) is compromised when minorities face intimidation from peaceful assembly or public expression.
• Article 21 is infringed through threats, coercion, and erosion of dignity.
• Article 25 and 26 are directly violated when prayer meetings are raided, religious practices disrupted, or Christian and Muslim institutions are targeted.

These violations operate not as isolated incidents but as a pattern of parallel sovereignty, where a non-state actor informally asserts the authority to regulate religion, intimacy, public space, and personal liberty. The most profound injury is to the principle of secularism, a core element of India’s basic structure. When the state tolerates a majoritarian organisation exercising coercive power, secularism becomes formal rather than substantive—its guarantees present in doctrine but eroded in lived reality.

Democratic risks and the normalisation of anti-minority governance

AHP–RBD’s six-month mobilisation points to a deeper institutional and cultural shift in India’s democratic landscape: the movement from a pluralist constitutional democracy to a majoritarian quasi-democracy, where minority rights exist formally but are systematically hollowed out in practice. This degradation does not occur through the formal suspension of rights or emergency powers. It occurs gradually, through the normalisation of communal hostility, which reshapes public behaviour, institutional norms, and the emotional structure of citizenship.

The first democratic risk arises from the de-legitimisation of constitutional norms. When communal mobilisation saturates public life, principles such as equality, religious freedom, and secular governance come to be seen not as foundational commitments but as obstacles to majoritarian will. Hate speech, demographic alarmism, and ritual militarisation generate an affective climate in which constitutional protections appear indulgent or even dangerous. In such a climate, minorities internalise fear, withdraw from public spaces, limit political participation, and experience democratic life on unequal terms. Electoral politics, too, becomes distorted: communal consolidation strengthens the majority vote, while minority voting becomes fraught with risk and reduced in impact.

A second democratic risk lies in the erosion of institutional neutrality. The dataset records repeated instances of police presence at events where inflammatory or openly violent rhetoric is delivered. The appearance of state authorities alongside vigilante actors produces a symbolic convergence between law and majoritarian sentiment. Law enforcement shifts from being an impartial guarantor of rights to an instrument of communal policing. When institutions fail to enforce constitutional norms, they lose legitimacy, and alternative power centres—majoritarian groups acting as de facto police—step into the vacuum.

The third democratic risk concerns the cultural redefinition of citizenship. AHP–RBD’s discourse fuses Hindu identity with national identity, constructing Muslims and Christians as conditional citizens whose loyalty must be proven and whose rights may be restricted. Citizenship becomes implicitly ethnoreligious, not civic. Such a transformation strikes at the core of the Indian constitutional order, which deliberately rejects indigeneity, religious majoritarianism, and racialised belonging as bases for citizenship. When minorities are framed as perpetual suspects, their participation in democratic life becomes precarious, and the republic shifts toward graded membership.

The final democratic risk is long-term polarisation. Hate mobilisation produces enduring harms: intergenerational fear, mutual distrust, and hardened communal identities. This polarisation is not limited to politics—it reshapes everyday life. Markets segregate, schools become communally divided, workplaces grow tense, and neighbourhoods fracture into hostile enclaves. Over time, these micro-segregations accumulate into structural separation, weakening the social cohesion that democracy requires. A society fragmented by fear cannot sustain collective governance, universal rights, or shared public institutions.

Together, these dynamics illustrate how AHP–RBD’s activities create not just immediate threats but a systemic democratic recession—a gradual hollowing of constitutional citizenship, institutional neutrality, and pluralist democracy.

Conclusion- The architecture of hate as parallel sovereignty

AHP–RBD’s events and the collated data reveals a sophisticated, multi-layered architecture of hate—one that operates not as episodic violence but as an emergent political order. This order is parallel to the constitutional state, majoritarian in ethos, and vigilante in practice. Through demographic panic, gendered control, ritual militarisation, territorial revisionism, anti-minority surveillance, and the normalisation of extra-legal punishment, AHP constructs a rival normative universe—a universe in which communal identity determines legitimacy, violence becomes moral obligation, and constitutional authority is displaced by militant religiosity.

This phenomenon is not merely a danger to India’s minorities. It is a profound challenge to the foundations of democratic life. When an organisation can redefine belonging, police intimacy, weaponise devotion, rewrite history, and regulate public space—often with the tacit tolerance or visible presence of state authorities—the very idea of citizenship becomes contingent. The rule of law fades into selective enforcement. The secular, civic character of the Republic becomes fragile, overshadowed by ethnoreligious belonging.

India is witnessing a deeper cultural shift:

—from pluralism to purity,

—from rights to obedience,

—from law to spectacle,

—from coexistence to conquest.

No democracy can survive the institutionalisation of hate as common sense. No constitutional order can endure when non-state actors are permitted to wield coercive power with impunity. No society can remain cohesive when its people are divided into protectors and threats, insiders and intruders, pure and polluted.

The challenge before India is therefore greater than the task of curbing a single extremist organisation. It is the task of reclaiming the constitutional imagination. This requires the restoration of institutional neutrality, the impartial enforcement of criminal law, renewed political commitment to equality and dignity, and a cultural repudiation of the politics of fear. It requires civil society vigilance and political courage that refuses to normalise hate.

AHP–RBD’s mobilisation is not the story of a fringe group. It is the story of a parallel polity—one that is emerging, expanding, and asserting influence. Whether this parallel polity becomes embedded in India’s future depends on how institutions, courts, political parties, and citizens respond to the early warning signs documented in this dataset.

The Constitution’s text remains intact. Its lived reality, however, is under deep strain. Even reduced to a hollow shell, some would argue.

The trajectory revealed here is not inevitable—but it is unmistakable. To confront it is not merely an analytical task for scholarship. It is a democratic imperative, central to safeguarding India’s identity as a plural, secular, constitutional republic.

Reference:

The Radical Flank Effect in Social Movements: Evidence from India

Hindutva Radicalisation of the Indian Youth and Its Impact on Freedom of Religion

The Hindu Far-Right and the Indian State: A Study of Vigilante Justice

Ideology and Organizational Strategy of Hindu Nationalism

Inequality, elections, and communal riots in India

The Political Economy of Religious Conflict in India

A Critical Study of Religious Polarization and Its Impact on the Secular Fabric of Indian Society

Profile: Pravin Togadia and the Rise of the Hardline

The Unimportance of Being Pravin Togadia: An Organizational Analysis

CJP moves NCM over Pravin Togadia’s communal oath at ‘Trishul Diksha’ event

Sheath the swords, while there is still time! (Report on AHP’s ‘Trishul Diksha’)

Hate Watch: Pravin Togadia administers communal and anti-minority oath in Haryana

RSS, Togadia decide to work together to ‘unite’ Hindus

India’s ‘love jihad’ conspiracy theory turns lethal

VHP releases over 400 alleged ‘Love Jihad’ cases; to launch awareness against religious conversion

How a ‘love jihad’ case was manufactured in India’s Uttar Pradesh

Hundreds In Mumbai March Against ‘Love Jihad’, Demand Anti-Conversion Laws

Nanded police book Pravin Togadia for hate speech

India Hindu leader in ‘hate speech’ row (2014 report on property eviction call)

Election Commission directs FIR against Pravin Togadia for ‘hate speech’

Togadia’s ‘hate speech’ video under EC scanner

Maharashtra Police registers case against VHP leader Praveen Togadia for hate speech

Pravin Togadia’s claim of being targeted by Modi govt not new

https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/maharashtra/violence-erupt-in-nagpur-during-hindu-outfits-protest-for-removal-of-aurangzebs-tomb/article69341949.ece

https://www.newindianexpress.com/nation/2022/Jun/14/bajrang-dal-to-hold-nationwide-protest-against-violence-over-remarks-against-prophet-vhp-2465507.html

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/allahabad/tension-erupts-in-myorabad-area-over-alleged-religious-conversion-activities/articleshow/125662303.cms

https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/arunachal-pradesh/rally-for-anti-conversion-law-held-in-arunachal-pradesh/article70178964.ece

https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/vhp-demands-central-law-against-conversion/article35803107.ece

https://www.csohate.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/Hate-Speech-Events-in-India_Report_2024.pdf

https://www.pudr.org/publicatiosn-files/2023-04-17-Jahangirpur-%20communal-incident.pdf

https://sabrangindia.in/karnataka-bajrang-dals-sanjay-nalvade-three-others-arrested-murder-muslim-teen/

https://sabrangindia.in/bajrang-dal-members-booked-for-hurting-religious-sentiments-in-malad-accused-of-deliberate-provocation/

[1] A look at the analyses of hate speeches here (https://sabrang.com/cc/archive/2003/may03/index.html), Togadia, then squarely with the Viswa Hindu Parishad (VHP) declares his/and organizational hate and harm-filled intent: to generate anarchy and anti-minority violence (civil war) in every village of the country. Neither logistics not resources have stymied this cancer surgeon who’s Dhanwantri Hospital in Ahmedabad was also noted for its refusal to treat patients belonging to the mass-harmed Muslim minority in February-March 2002. (https://sabrang.com/cc/archive/2002/marapril/hospital.htm, https://sabrang.com/tribunal/vol2/pubspace.html)

The post Rituals of Fear, Politics of Hate: How AHP’s national network rewrote the boundaries of democracy and citizenship appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A detailed audit titled “The Bihar Verdict 2025”, curated by Vote for Democracy (VFD), Maharashtra, suggests that this is precisely what unfolded in the 2025 Bihar Legislative Assembly elections. Drawing exclusively from official Election Commission of India (ECI) data, statutory provisions, constitutional norms, and documented inconsistencies, the report presents a disturbing account of how India’s most fundamental democratic exercise was methodically hollowed out—before, during, and after polling.

What emerges is not a story of sporadic irregularities or administrative error, but of systemic electoral engineering, carried out through opaque voter roll revisions, statistical impossibilities, data suppression, and post-poll manipulation—raising urgent questions about the credibility of India’s electoral institutions.

The said report has been authored and compiled by Vote for Democracy (VFD), Maharashtra under the guidance of experts MG Devasahayam (IAS (Retd) and Founder, Forum for Electoral Integrity), Dr Pyara Lal Garg, (Former Dean, Faculty of Medical Sciences, Panjab University, Chandigarh) and Professor Harish Karnick, (Computer Science Expert) and Madhav Deshpande, (Computer Science Expert).

The Electoral ‘Ambush’: An unprecedented Special Intensive Revision

At the centre of the report is the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, notified by the ECI on June 24, 2025, just months before the Assembly election. While electoral rolls are periodically revised, the timing, scale, and opacity of this exercise make it extraordinary.

Bihar’s rolls had already undergone continuous revision since 2003, with a Special Summary Revision completed in January 2025. There was, therefore, no apparent administrative necessity for another sweeping revision so close to elections. Yet the ECI undertook precisely that—without recording reasons, disclosing empirical justification, or publishing a transparent methodology.

The report argues that this move violated statutory safeguards under the Representation of the People Act, 1950 and the Registration of Electors Rules, 1960, while also undermining constitutional guarantees under Articles 14, 19, 21, 325, and 326. Most alarmingly, the SIR reversed a core principle of electoral democracy: the presumption of inclusion of citizens on the voter roll.

Instead, the revision effectively placed the burden of proof on voters themselves, subjecting them to what the report describes as a citizenship-style verification exercise, without any legislative sanction.

Mass disenfranchisement hidden in plain sight

The consequences of the SIR were immediate and devastating. According to official ECI figures:

• On June 24, 2025, Bihar had 7.89 crore registered voters.
• By the Draft Roll of 1 August 2025, this number had dropped to 7.24 crore—a deletion of 65.69 lakh voters.
• The Final Roll published on September 30, 2025 stood at approximately 7.42 crore electors.

Yet, the report finds that only 3.66 lakh voters were ultimately found to be ineligible. The sheer scale of deletions—nearly twenty times higher than justified exclusions—points not to routine correction but to deliberate disenfranchisement.

The most shocking phase occurred between 21 and 25 July 2025, when over 21.27 lakh voters were deleted in just three days. During this period alone:

• 5.44 lakh voters were marked as ‘dead’,
• 14.24 lakh as ‘permanently shifted’, and
• those marked ‘untraceable’ increased by an astonishing 809% overnight.

Despite the SIR being justified as a means to remove “foreigners” from the rolls, not a single foreign national was identified.

As the report notes, such numbers defy administrative logic and statistical probability, pointing instead to algorithmic or bulk deletions, carried out without genuine field verification.

The ‘rectification’ that didn’t add up

Following public criticism, the ECI claimed to have undertaken a process of rectification, stating that approximately 17 lakh objections or applications were received. However, the final numbers tell a different story.

The report documents that around 22 lakh entries were modified—far exceeding the number of applications claimed. Even after accounting for these corrections, the voter roll should have mathematically settled at approximately 7.38 crore electors. Instead, the ECI declared 7.42 crore voters, leaving an unexplained surplus of 3.24 lakh electors.

No reconciliation statement, independent audit, or transparent explanation has been provided for this discrepancy—raising serious concerns about the integrity of the final roll itself.

When the rolls kept changing after elections were notified

Electoral law and convention require voter rolls to be effectively frozen once elections are notified, to ensure certainty and fairness. Yet, the report shows that in Bihar, the rolls continued to change even after notification.

• On October 6, 2025, the electorate stood at 7.43 crore.
• By poll day, it had risen to 7.46 crore.

In just ten days, 3.34 lakh voters were added, including a sudden and unexplained spike in young voters—an impossibility given eligibility timeline.

The sanctity of the voter roll, the report argues, was thus compromised at the most critical stage of the electoral process.

Structural rigging and data suppression

Manipulation was not confined to voter rolls alone. The report details a sharp increase in polling booths—from 77,462 in the 2024 Lok Sabha elections to 90,740 in Bihar 2025—without a corresponding expansion in remote or riverine areas, raising questions about constituency engineering.

Equally troubling was the Election Commission’s progressive withdrawal of transparency. Constituency-wise turnout figures and final votes polled before counting—data routinely published in earlier elections—were withheld. Instead, fragmented district-level data was released, making independent verification virtually impossible.

Institutional capture at the grassroots

At the ground level, the report highlights the deployment of 1.8 lakh ‘Jeevika Didis’ as poll volunteers—women who were also beneficiaries of state welfare schemes involving cash transfers. This, the report argues, blurred the line between welfare delivery and election administration, undermining the neutrality of the electoral machinery.

The imbalance in Booth Level Agents (BLAs) further compounded the problem. While the ruling alliance deployed over 91,000 agents, the opposition averaged just 1.55 agents per booth, creating vast unmonitored spaces within polling stations.

Poll-day violations and the ‘midnight hike’

Polling and counting days were marked by a series of disturbing incidents: CCTV failures, VVPAT slips found discarded on roads, unauthorised vehicles near strong rooms, and the transportation of approximately 6,000 voters from Haryana through special trains, allegedly facilitated with free tickets.

But the most consequential intervention came after polling had ended. On 12 November 2025, official data recorded a uniform 0.18% increase in voter turnout—identical for both men and women across phases. This “midnight hike” added 1,34,145 votes, altering outcomes in around 20 constituencies.

In 21 seats, victory margins ranged from zero to just 15 votes, yet no automatic VVPAT recount was ordered.

More than a Bihar story

“The Bihar Verdict 2025” concludes with a stark warning: what happened in Bihar is not an isolated aberration. It represents a new mode of electoral manipulation, executed not through visible violence or overt coercion, but through administrative opacity, legal sleight of hand, and data control.

At stake is not merely the outcome of one state election, but the constitutional promise of universal adult suffrage itself.

As the report makes clear, when voters disappear from rolls, when numbers defy arithmetic, and when transparency is treated as expendable, democracy itself becomes the casualty.

The complete report may be accessed here: https://votefordemocracy.org.in/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/260113-FINAL-THE-BIHAR-VERDICT.pdf

Presentation: https://votefordemocracy.org.in/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/THE-BIHAR-VERDICT-2025-ppt.pdf

Related:

VFD’s rebuttal of the Fadnavis’ Claims on Electoral Manipulation Allegations

VFD’s draft reports points to “electoral manipulation and irregularities” in Haryana and J&K 2024 assembly elections

Vote for Democracy (VFD) releases report on the conduct of General Election 2024

The Stolen Franchise: Why the Election Commission cannot escape accountability

EXCLUSIVE: Solid empirical evidence of tampering in Voter’s List mustn’t let us forget EVM Manipulations: Computer Expert Madhav Deshpande

Vote for Democracy: Statistical, legal and procedural irregularities dot Bihar’s controversial SIR process

Major Irregularities in 2024 Maharashtra Vidhan Sabha Polls; Vote for Democracy

The post The Bihar Verdict 2025: How an election was engineered before votes were cast appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A quick search of the 142-page judgement, delivered by a bench comprising Justices Aravind Kumar and NV Anjaria, finds these key words missing. Instead, the judgement expanded the contours of terrorism. Further, it created two categories of accused – leaders and followers. Researchers Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam were designated as “architects” of the conspiracy and denied bail, whereas student activist Gulfisha Fatima, Meeran Haider, Shifa-ur-Rehman, Mohd. Saleem Khan and Shadab Ahmed were granted bail under stringent censorial conditions. All of them have been in jail since 2020.

While freedom of speech and the right to political dissent are significant contextual elements in the judgment, the Supreme Court explicitly clarified that they are not the core legal issues determining the outcome of the bail applications.

Critics, however, argue that the top court’s judgment sets a dangerous precedent by classifying political dissent and protest speeches as acts of terrorism.

Conditional freedom that robs the right to speak

Supreme Court imposed strict conditions while granting bail to the Fatima, Rehman, Khan, Haider and Ahmed. Apart from the ₹2 lakh personal bond each with two local sureties of the like amount, the top court also gagged the five activists from speaking about any issue from any platform after their release.

Conditions also include that they are:

• Required to stay within the territorial limit of Delhi NCT for the pendency of the trial. Not allowed to leave the city without court’s permission. Any request for travel shall disclose reasons, which would then be considered by the trial court “strictly” on its “merits”
• Surrender passports if any. If there is no passport, then an affidavit to be filed to that effect. Furthermore, immigration authorities have been direction to prevent any exit from the country without the court’s permission
• Twice weekly check-ins at the Delhi Police Crime Branch police station. The police are then required to submit monthly attendance reports to court; Furnish full current address and all contact details with the investigating officer of the case. there must be a seven-day notice before any change to the same.
• Co-operate during the trial, appear at every date unless exempted by court and ensure they don’t act in any way to delay the same
• No witness tampering, or any contact with them at all – direct or indirect. Not allowed to participate in the activities of any group or organization linked to the subject matter of the present FIR/ final report
• Complete media gag
• Gag on attending any rallies – political or otherwise, physically or virtually till the conclusion of the trial
• Not allowed to distribute any posts, handbills, posters, fliers, banners
• “Maintain peace and good behavior.” Violation of this condition gives the police “liberty” to seek revocation of bail

UAPA comes a full circle

The Supreme Court’s judgment in Gulfisha Fatima vs State (2026 INSC 2) represents a ‘coming to a full circle’ moment for the Unlawful Activity (Prevention) Act (UAPA), 1967. The UAPA, which was originally meant to address “secessionist” activities, was later amended and rebranded as India’s anti-terror law.

Around 1962-63, the then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru envisioned UAPA to act as a deterrence against secessionist ideologies and preserve national integration. In the backdrop of the 1965 India-Pakistan war, UAPA was primarily intended to tackle the strong secessionist movement in Tamil Nadu which wanted to be a sovereign state. It was followed by a series of preventive detention laws and, when India signed and ratified all major United Nation counter-terrorism conventions after 9/11, the UAPA was specifically amended in 2004 to align with the country’s international obligations.

The law, in its current avatar, is so vast and vague, that even expressing disaffection towards the state or affection for another state, as in the case of the three Kashmiri youth who were jailed under sedition charges for allegedly cheering for Pakistan’s cricket team when it won the 2021 T20 World Cup, is liable for prosecution.

When protest becomes an act of terrorism

Can protest speeches, public meetings and WhatsApp group membership constitute conspiracy under Sections 16–18 of the UAPA at the bail stage?

According to the Supreme Court: Yes, they can. Even if the protests were peaceful assemblies.

The Supreme Court’s January 5 judgement essentially redefined terrorism. Even though the judgment recognized freedom of speech as a protected right, it stopped where an allegedly pre-planned conspiracy for systemic violence began. Ironically, cases against BJP politicians like Kapil Sharma, who made incendiary speeches on the eve of the breakout of violence in Delhi in 2020, continue at a snail’s pace,

Yet, the January 5 judgement read: “The factual record placed by the prosecution repeatedly returns to a distinction that is central to the case: the differentiation between a conventional dharna and a chakka jam. This is not treated as semantics. It is treated as strategy.”

“A dharna may be expressive; a chakka jam, as alleged, is disruptive by design. The prosecution case is that the sustained choking of arterial roads, replication of blockade sites, and the movement of crowds from minority clusters into mixed population areas were not accidental expressions of dissent, but calibrated acts meant to generate confrontation, overwhelm law enforcement, and create conditions for violence,” it added.

The top court said Delhi Police did not rely on a “single speech, a single meeting, or a single blockade” to oppose bail, rather it relied on “a course of conduct, spread over weeks, involving repeated meetings, formation of coordinating bodies, issuance of directions, and alleged preparations for escalation.”

“The Court cannot, at the bail stage, segregate this course of conduct into isolated benign fragments and assess each in abstraction,” the judgment read.

The Supreme Court reiterated that “dissent and protest occupy a protected space in a constitutional democracy,” however, that protection does not extend to a design that involves “systemic disruption, engineered confrontation, and preparatory steps towards violence”.

“At this stage, the Court must resist from committing two errors. The first is to criminalise speech merely because it is politically charged. The second is to immunize a continuing course of conduct merely because it contains language of non-violence,” the judgment read.

“In the application of such law, the Court does not proceed on identity, ideology, belief, or association. It proceeds on role, material, and the statutory threshold governing the exercise of jurisdiction,” the judgment read. “…[the judgment] neither endorses the prosecution case nor prejudges the guilt of any accused,” the court said adding that it applied the law as it stands, “recognising that individual liberty must be protected, but that it must also withstand the legitimate demands of national security and collective safety.”

“This balance is not a matter of preference rather it is a matter of constitutional duty,” the court added.

Selective application of law

While the Supreme Court’s judgment could be seen as a mixed bag of relief for some accused, in the denial of bail to Imam and Khalid, the top court selectively applied its own judgement and those of the high court on free speech or even bail under section 43d of the UAPA.

In cases like Vernon Gonzalves, Shoma Sen, Arvind Kejriwal, Manish Sisodia, Javed Gulam Nabi Shaikh, Sheikh Javed Iqbal, the top court granted bail due to prolonged incarceration despite the bar under section 43D of the UAPA act.

On free speech, the Supreme Court in its 2015 Shreya Singhal judgment said that dissenting discourse is not a crime. In its Balwant Singh judgment, the court emphasized that shouting stray slogans like “Khalistan Zindabad” were not a crime.

In fact, the Delhi High Court granted bail to student activists Devangana Kalita, Natasha Narwal and Asif Iqbal Tanha—co-accused in the 2020 Delhi Riots conspiracy case—and pulled up the Delhi Police for its “wanton use” of the UAPA.

In this case, the High Court clearly stated: “… in its anxiety to suppress dissent and in the morbid fear that matters may get out of hand, the State has blurred the line between the constitutionally guaranteed ‘right to protest’ and ‘terrorist activity’. If such blurring gains traction, democracy would be in peril.”

“… the intent and purport of the Parliament in enacting the UAPA, and more specifically in amending it in 2004 and 2008 to bring terrorist activity within its scope, was, and could only have had been, to deal with matters of profound impact on the ‘Defence of India’, nothing more and nothing less,” it added.

Process is the punishment

In the past decade, the State (or corporations) has often been accused of (mis)using the law to stifle dissent. In effect, making the process of law the punishment. Sedition (the old and new avatar), UAPA, defamation, Copyright Act are all being used against free speech.

The NewsClick founder editor Prabir Purkayastha was charged under the draconian UAPA for publishing “propaganda” reports on China that allegedly served to endanger the “sovereignty, unity and security of India.” He secured bail after seven months in custody after the Supreme Court held that his arrest was “invalid in the eyes of the law.”

Sedition, in its new avatar, has been used against climate activist Sonam Wangchuk, Ashoka University professor Ali Khan Mahmudabad, stand-up comic Kunal Kamra, satirists Madri Kakoti and Shamita Yadav better as Dr Medusa and Ranting Gola respectively, Bhojpuri singer Neha Singh Rathore, TV star and Big Boss winner Akhil Marar, a 20-year-old autorickshaw driver Sahil Khan and even Pushpa Sathidar, wife of the late actor Vira Sathidar, who was booked for merely reciting the acclaimed Faiz Ahmed Faiz poem ‘Hum Dekhenge’ at a meeting.in Nagpur in May 2025.

Even after sedition cases are dropped, the punishing process does not end, as the ordeal of Manipuri journalist Kishore Wangkhemcha, booked for speaking out about the struggles of leaders of Manipur or film maker Aisha Sultana, charged for criticising the Lakshadweep administrator, bears out..

Clearly, the price of dissent and critical thought is extremely high. And now, a Supreme Court order penalises peaceful protest and expression as acts of terror, effectively putting an undemocratic premium on the freedom to speak freely.

*About the Author: After an almost decade-long career as a photojournalist in Mumbai, Ritika now covers the Indian judiciary and hopes to simplify the law and decode the judiciary. Now based in Delhi, Ritika is a writer, part-time dreamer & full-time K-drama addict who escapes the city when she’s not bingeing on K-dramas.

Courtesy: Free Speech Collective

The post When Speech Becomes an Act of Terrorism appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Clearly, after the widespread criticism and the sensitiveness of the issue given he upcoming local corporation elections (municipal corporation elections are on  Thursday January 15), on January 8, Yogesh Sabale, Senior Police Inspector of the Mata Ramabai Ambedkar Nagar Police Station, called Deepak Pawar and who informed him that they were dropping the case and hence they did not need to appear in court! Since no formal intimation (or confirmation of the withdrawal of the misconceived case by the police has yet been received) Pawar raised the question: “…ahead of the elections, are you suggesting that I should not come to court on January 12 because the government does not want unnecessary trouble over the Marathi issue? However, does that mean the case has been withdrawn? On this point, Sabale could not give a definitive answer—nor could he!”

Pawar further writes, “For a grassroots activist, if within the span of ten days one is first ordered to appear in court and then requested not to appear, one can imagine the mix of happiness and astonishment this would cause. Over the past two or three decades, the decline of street-based movements has meant that even the police are unsure how to deal with people who come out onto the streets through lawful means—especially for causes like language and schools. Therefore, if those who ordered the registration of the case and instructed that charges be framed changed their minds within 24 hours, there may be reasons for this that we are not aware of. What are those reasons?”

Deepak Pawar, a renowned figure in Maharashtra also queries that,” If a case was to be registered, it should have been registered against Uddhav Thackeray, Sanjay Raut, Harshvardhan Sapkal, and Nitin Sardesai for the June 29 programme. Similarly, cases should have been registered against all leaders of political parties present at the December 18 programme. This clearly shows how convenient and selective the police’s process of registering cases is.”

The entire tale runs thus:

On January 7, a letter was published on social media in my (Deepak Pawar’s) name and in the name of Anand Bhandare. That letter concerned the case registered by the police in connection with the march we had organised on December 18, 2025—from Hutatma Smarak to the Municipal Corporation headquarters—to save Marathi schools, and about appearing before the Mazgaon court on Monday, January 12, for the framing of charges. The post highlighted that, in Maharashtra, carrying out a lawful agitation for Marathi schools has effectively been treated as a crime. After the text was published on social media, it was widely shared. Citizens’ reactions strongly condemned the government and the police in harsh terms.

नमस्कार,
७ जानेवारी रोजी समाजमाध्यमांवर मी आणि आनंद भंडारे यांच्या नावाने एक पत्र प्रसिद्ध केले होते. १८ डिसेंबर २०२५ रोजी हुतात्मा स्मारक ते महानगरपालिका मुख्यालय या दरम्यान मराठी शाळा वाचविण्यासाठी आम्ही आयोजित केलेल्या मार्चाबाबत पोलिसांनी दाखल केलेला गुन्हा आणि सोमवार, दिनांक… pic.twitter.com/hDqmJAZkJe

— Dr. Deepak Pawar दीपक पवार (@drdeepakpawar) January 11, 2026

Hello,

(Continued text of tweet)…Even if it is difficult for our voices to reach a government with a brute majority, there is a possibility that the police may still be somewhat sensitive to public criticism. Accordingly, the very next day I received a call from Yogesh Sabale, Senior Police Inspector of the Mata Ramabai Ambedkar Nagar Police Station, who informed me that they were dropping the case. I asked him to convey this in writing, and by the end of the day I received a letter from him, which is attached here. Three days later, letters addressed to Anand Bhandare, Girish Samant, and Pranali Raut arrived. Notably, while Pranali Raut had never received a letter asking her to appear in court, she did receive a letter telling her that she need not appear in court.

If an agitation has taken place under my chairpersonship (Deepak Pawar), then at the very least, the names of everyone who participated in that agitation should have appeared in my letter. That did not happen. Not only that, but while we were initially instructed to appear in court on Monday, letters began arriving one after another—right up to Saturday night—saying that there was no need to appear. If the police are sending such letters via a police station’s WhatsApp, some basic questions arise: does each police station have an email ID, and if so, why is it not being used for this purpose—what exactly is it used for?

Yogesh Sabale, Senior Police Inspector of the Mata Ramabai Ambedkar Nagar Police Station, spoke to me at length over the phone. The very system that officially exists to maintain law and order often ends up suppressing the rights of ordinary citizens. Officers like him work at the intermediate level within this system, and therefore their authority has limits. Perhaps their personal integrity and goodwill exceed their formal powers. That may be why he said to me (Deepak Pawar), “I request you not to appear in court on Monday.”

For a grassroots activist, if within the span of ten days one is first ordered to appear in court and then requested not to appear, one can imagine the mix of happiness and astonishment this would cause. Over the past two or three decades, the decline of street-based movements has meant that even the police are unsure how to deal with people who come out onto the streets through lawful means—especially for causes like language and schools. Therefore, if those who ordered the registration of the case and instructed that charges be framed changed their minds within 24 hours, there may be reasons for this that we are not aware of. What are those reasons?

The question I (Deepak Pawar ) put to Sabale was this: ahead of the elections, are you suggesting that I should not come to court on the 12th because the government does not want unnecessary trouble over the Marathi issue? But does that mean the case has been withdrawn? On this point, Sabale could not give a definitive answer—nor could he. He merely said that cases had been registered against workers of political parties. However, this claim does not hold water. I (Deepak Pawar) had already demonstrated this by citing the names of those against whom cases were, and were not, registered in connection with the June 29 programme protesting unjust government resolutions. If a case was to be registered, it should have been registered against Uddhav Thackeray, Sanjay Raut, Harshvardhan Sapkal, and Nitin Sardesai for the June 29 programme. Similarly, cases should have been registered against all leaders of political parties present at the December 18 programme. This clearly shows how convenient and selective the police’s process of registering cases is.”

At the point of writing this detailed post on social media, Pawar informs people of Maharashtra “all of us activists from the Marathi Abhyas Kendra are busy in Shirur with preparations for the 9th Marathi-loving Parents’ Conference.”

The letters sent by the police may be read here:

(The original tweet on X was in Marathi)

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Remove illegal and unstable hoardings, signboards & electric signages immediately: Mumbaikars to BMC

The post Academic, Deepak Pawar to Mumbai Police: Are frivolous cases against us –filed after a peaceful demonstration to save Marathi schools –being dropped because of the upcoming BMC polls? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The country, India, the world’s largest democracy, placed fourth out of 168 nations assessed for the likelihood of what researchers call intrastate mass killings. More significantly, India topped the list of countries facing such danger that are not already experiencing large-scale violence.

This is the December 2025 report Countries at Risk for Intrastate Mass Killing 2025-26, Statistical Risk Assessment Results, available here, from the museum’s Early Warning Project estimates India has a 7.5% chance of seeing deliberate mass violence against civilians before the end of 2026. The researchers define such violence as armed groups killing at least 1000 non-combatants within a year based on their group identity, which could include ethnicity, religion, politics or geography.

Three countries scored higher than India. Another South Asian neighbour, Myanmar, holds the top spot, followed by Chad and Sudan. However, the difference is that several high-ranking nations including Myanmar and Sudan are already dealing with ongoing mass killings, making India’s position particularly noteworthy as a potential new flashpoint.

Methodology: Researchers at the museum and Dartmouth College analysed decades of historical data to identify patterns. They look at which characteristics countries shared in the years before mass violence erupted, then search for similar warning signs today.

“Which countries today look most similar to countries that experienced mass killings in the past, in the year or two before those mass killings began?” the report asks.

The model examines more than 30 factors, from population size and economic indicators to measures of political freedom and armed conflict. Historically, roughly one or two countries experience new episodes of mass killing each year.

It was Lawrence Woocher, research director at the museum’s Simon-Skjodt Center for the Prevention of Genocide, wrote in the report’s foreword that the project aims to help officials and organisations decide where to focus resources for prevention. Pointing out that the Holocaust was preventable, Woocher wrote, “By heeding warning signs and taking early action, individuals and governments can save lives”.

The assessment looks only at future outbreaks, not whether existing violence might worsen. This approach helps fill what researchers see as a gap in prevention efforts, since ongoing crises often dominate attention.

Crucially, the researchers caution against viewing their findings as predictions. The statistical model identifies risk factors that historically appeared before mass violence, but these factors do not necessarily cause such events.

“Readers should keep in mind that our model is not causal,” the report states. “The variables identified as predicting higher or lower risk of mass killings in a country are not necessarily the factors that drive or trigger atrocities.”

For instance, a country’s large population, for instance, does not trigger violence. However, nations with bigger populations have historically been more likely to experience mass killings, making it a useful indicator when combined with other data.

The model relies on publicly available information from 2024, which means events from 2025 do not reflect in the current rankings. Data limitations also mean the assessment may not fully capture conditions in places where governments restrict access to observers. “This assessment is just one tool,” the report underlined. “It is meant to be a starting point for discussion and further research, not a definitive conclusion.”

Identifying the countries in the top tier, the report lays out specific concerns.

“For every country in the top 30, we recommend that policy makers consider whether they are devoting sufficient attention to addressing the risks of mass atrocities occurring within that country,” the authors recommended.

The report suggests several lines of inquiry. Are governments paying enough attention to the danger of systematic attacks on civilians? What specific triggers, whether elections, political upheaval or protests, could spark widespread violence?

The authors recommend that international bodies and national governments conduct their own detailed assessments of high-risk countries. Such reviews should examine what drives the risk, what scenarios seem plausible, and what existing strengths in a society need to be reinforced to prevent violence.

“Strategies and tools to address atrocity risks should, of course, be tailored to each country’s context,” the report noted.

The Early Warning Project has released annual assessments since 2014. In that time, mass atrocities have occurred in multiple countries, including genocide against the Rohingya in Burma and mass civilian deaths in South Sudan and Ethiopia. “Even in cases like these where warnings have been issued, they have simply not prompted enough early action,” Woocher stated.

Related:

Partitioned minds, a Saffron Fatwa & Denial of Fair Opportunity: Mata Vaishno Devi University, Jammu

Apologies from an ashamed Hindu

Muslim student set on fire in Bareilly outside exam centre, suffers 8% burns

The post India tops among countries at risk of mass crimes, atrocities, US Holocaust Museum warns appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Farhad had reportedly just stepped out of the examination centre when the attack occurred at the college gate. Witnesses saw flames leap from his clothes as people nearby scrambled to put them out.

Fortuitously, another group of students and passers-by rushed to douse the fire with water and cloth. Some used water bottles. Others shouted for help. For a few minutes, the scene dissolved into panic.

Police said that Farhad sustained around 8% burn injuries. He was first taken to a private facility on Delhi Road and later shifted to the district hospital. His condition is said to be stable, officials said. Moradabad (city) SP Kumar Ranvijay Singh said, “It appears the attackers used a petrol-filled bottle. We’re collecting forensic samples to confirm. An FIR is being registered.” Predictably, none have been arrested yet.

Hindu College is one of Moradabad’s older educational institutions. Police have taken statements from witnesses and are analysing footage from nearby CCTV cameras. The bottle suspected to have been used in the attack has been sent for chemical analysis. Police identified suspects as students of the same college. Their names emerged during questioning of those present on campus.

Related:

Maharashtra Mob Violence: Muslim student and a fruit vendor, forced into chanting ‘Jai Sri Ram’

Muslim student denied exam for wearing beard in Ahmedabad: A disturbing reflection of rising intolerance

Terrorism’s Shadow: Rising hatred against Indian Muslims after Pahalgam terror attack

The post Muslim student set on fire in Bareilly outside exam centre, suffers 8% burns appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The First Information Report of seven pages mentions offences under Sections 353 (2) of the Bharatiya Nyay Samhita and details a complaint lodged on December 18, 2025 over a reported Facebook post dated December 14, 2025. On perusal this post appeared unavailable for viewing. A resident of the United Kingdom and key consultant with the National Health Service (NHS) Dr Patil’s Videos and advise on public health issues especially at the time of the Covid-19 pandemic are remembered with affection and respect. The fact that before his arrest/detention no information as is required was provided to the British consulate since he is a citizen of that country has also raised eyebrows. The complainant, it is reported is one Nikhil Bhamare, member of the BJP Maharashtra’s Social Media cell who has faced cases for intemperate language posts on social media during the Maharashtra Vikas Aghadi government (MVA) between 2019-2022.

The FIR may be read below.

Here are some of the social media posts strongly condemning the detention.

Dr. Sangram Patil, a British citizen of Indian origin and a proud son of Maharashtra, was arrested by the Mumbai Crime Branch at Mumbai’s Adani Airport early in the morning as he entered India, in connection with a case of engaging in “objectionable” social media conversations against the Modi government. His wife was also with him. It could not be ascertained whether anything was informed to the British legal authorities in this regard.

According to information received from sources:

Dr. Sangram Patil, a British citizen of Indian origin and a proud son of Maharashtra, was arrested by the Mumbai Crime Branch at Mumbai’s Adani Airport early in the morning as he entered India, in connection with a case of engaging… pic.twitter.com/94hCS0UFIG

— Raju Parulekar (@rajuparulekar) January 10, 2026

लंडनचे डॅा. संग्राम पाटील यांना मुंबई विमानतळावर पोलिसांनी
ताब्यात घेतलंय.
या बिनडोक कारवाईचा निषेध!#DevendraFadnavis

— nikhil wagle (@waglenikhil) January 10, 2026

Strongly condemn the arbitrary arrest of Dr. #SangramPatil at #Mumbai airport this morning!
A proud son of #Maharashtra, British citizen of #Indian origin, who fearlessly spoke truth is now targeted.

This is nothing but state-sponsored suppression of voice!… pic.twitter.com/wmpWFWox4k

— Dr. Jitendra Dehade (@jitendradehade) January 10, 2026

Some of Dr Sangram Patil’s social media posts may be seen here

April 2025

आपलं संविधान ,माझ संविधान.
धन्यवाद बाबासाहेब तुमच्या संविधानाने किमया केली. pic.twitter.com/mF9L6gLaWT

— Dr Sangram Gokulsingh Patil (@drsangrampatil) April 8, 2023

January 2025

“तुम्ही शूर विरांची संतान आहात ही गोष्ट काल्पनिक नव्हे, तर भीमा कोरेगांवला जाऊन बघा तुमच्या पूर्वजांची नावे तेथील विजयस्तंभावर कोरलेली आहेत. तो पुरावा आहे की, तुम्ही भेड बकरीची संतान नसून सिंहाचे छावे आहात.”
– डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर
(दिनांक २५.१२.१९२७ महाडचे भाषण) pic.twitter.com/43Xs0g7YpU

— Dr Sangram Gokulsingh Patil (@drsangrampatil) January 1, 2026

December 30 2025

pic.twitter.com/pVs24PBu2x

— Dr Sangram Gokulsingh Patil (@drsangrampatil) December 30, 2025

Related:

लंडनहून मुंबईत परतातच डॉक्टर संग्राम पाटील यांना विमानतळावर पोलिसांनी घेतलं ताब्यात, सरोदेंनी व्यक्त केला संताप

The post Dr Sangram Patil detained by Mumbai Crime Branch, move sharply condemned appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The complaint arises from a speech delivered by Satam on December 6, 2025, during the public inauguration of a BJP office in Ward No. 47, Malad West, at a time when the Model Code of Conduct was in force owing to the ongoing Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) electoral process. The speech, widely circulated through video footage online, deploys familiar yet deeply dangerous communal tropes—branding Muslims as “jihadis,” accusing them of facilitating illegal immigration, and invoking conspiracy theories such as “vote jihad” and “land jihad.”

From political speech to communal vilification

CJP’s complaint makes it clear that the impugned speech goes far beyond permissible political criticism. Satam is seen alleging that “jihadis” have infiltrated the Goregaon Sports Club, accusing Muslims of aiding Rohingya and Bangladeshi migrants in illegally acquiring land and identity documents, and suggesting that demographic changes driven by Muslim presence pose a threat to governance and society.

These remarks, delivered at a public political event and amplified through digital circulation, effectively criminalise an entire religious community, casting Muslim citizens as infiltrators, conspirators, and demographic threats. The language used is not incidental—it is part of a growing repertoire of coded hate speech, designed to mobilise voters through fear, suspicion, and hostility towards a minority community.

CJP has annexed the video footage of the speech as evidence, underscoring that these are not stray remarks but verifiable, deliberate public statements made in an electoral context.

Clear violations of the Model Code of Conduct

The complaint highlights that the Model Code of Conduct explicitly bars political actors from making appeals to communal feelings, aggravating differences between religious communities, or using unverified allegations that vitiate the electoral atmosphere. Satam’s remarks, CJP argues, strike at the very heart of these prohibitions.

By invoking Muslims as a collective threat and framing them as agents of demographic and electoral subversion, the speech seeks to polarise the electorate along religious lines—a practice the Election Commission has repeatedly condemned, including in cases involving indirect or “dog-whistle” appeals.

Statutory breaches under the Representation of the People Act

CJP further points out that the speech attracts multiple violations under the Representation of the People Act, 1951. These include:

• Section 123(3), which prohibits appeals based on religion—violated here through indirect but unmistakable religious mobilisation
• Section 123(3A), which bars the promotion of hatred or enmity between communities
• Section 125, a penal provision that criminalises the promotion of enmity in connection with elections.

The complaint draws strength from the Supreme Court’s landmark ruling in Abhiram Singh v. C.D. Commachen (2017), which unequivocally held that any direct or indirect appeal to religion corrodes the foundations of secular democracy.

An assault on constitutional values

Beyond electoral law, CJP situates the speech within the broader constitutional framework. The remarks, it argues, violate Article 14 (equality before law), Article 15 (non-discrimination), and Article 21 (right to dignity), while abusing the protection of free speech under Article 19(1)(a)—a right that does not extend to hate speech.

At stake is not merely legal compliance, but the constitutional promise of secularism, fraternity, and equal citizenship, values explicitly enshrined in the Preamble.

Why This Matters: Electoral integrity and minority rights

Malad West and its surrounding areas are religiously diverse. In such contexts, speeches that frame minorities as conspirators or infiltrators carry real consequences: voter intimidation, communal polarisation, and erosion of public trust in free and fair elections.

CJP warns that allowing such rhetoric to pass without consequence lowers the threshold of acceptable political discourse and emboldens further communal targeting—turning elections into arenas of fear rather than democratic choice.

CJP’s call for urgent action

In its prayer, CJP urges the Election Commission to take immediate cognisance of the complaint, initiate proceedings against Ameet Satam for MCC violations, issue a show-cause notice, impose appropriate sanctions, and direct law enforcement authorities to examine penal liability under the RPA. Importantly, CJP also calls for a general advisory to political parties, cautioning against the use of conspiracy-laden communal narratives like “vote jihad” and “land jihad.”

The complete complaint may be read here.

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CJP files complaint with ECI against Arunachal Minister Ojing Tasing for threatening voters with denial of welfare schemes

CJP moves NCM against surge in Hate Speech at Hindu Sanatan Ekta Padyatra

CJP files complaint over Malabar Hill incident involving Aadhaar checks and targeting of Muslim vendors

The post CJP approaches Election Commission over communal and hate-based speech by BJP Mumbai President appeared first on SabrangIndia.

I profusely apologise for the incessant atrocities that are being committed against you all since 2014 by the Modi Regime.

There are thousands and lakhs of Muslim Freedom fighters, who gave their blood and lives to make this Nation, when RSS traitors were colluding with the British.

The sadistic pleasure drawn by few self-proclaimed Hindus, on withdrawal of MBBS Course from Shri. Mata Vaishnavo Devi Institute of Medical Excellence in Jammu, is so disheartening and nauseating that I don’t wish to be associated with this kind of Hindu Community.

My sense of dismay, disheartenment is so profound and intense that I now realise and feel the pain that Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar must have felt while Quitting this hate filled, demonic, human social system.

Followers of Manusmriti are using the very Constitution which promised you all, other minorities and the poor and downtrodden, a dignified, egalitarian position in the India liberated on 15-08-1947.

Neither this is that India, nor are the bulwarks of that Constitution intact.

Lynching Muslims, dehumanising them, reducing them to second citizens, bulldozing their homes and forcefully pushing them into Bangladesh, committing genocide against them like in Godhra, even a Muslim MP is not safe and are deprived of the fundamental human dignity in the Parliament.

Doesn’t matter, that Modi Regime and its cronies are accepting the Gulf Dinars from the Sheikhs, to survive and sustain their business, which in any sovereign state eg. America, would tantamount to, proceeds of crime.

I can never forgive myself for what my sister Bilkis Bano had to go through. A believer in the Rule of Law, a pious, devout Hindu can never accept this and never promote such cowardice. I am stunned to see the Hindus (baring few exceptions), not condemning the Regime which enabled atrocities on Muslims of Godhra.

It’s suffocating, I am literally gasping for breath, as the chain of events run through my mind, as a fast forwarded video, full of blood, cries for help, daggers and machetes slashing human beings, bullets fired on innocent young Muslim Kashmiris, poor truck drivers being thrashed, lynched and killed on hate filled, inhuman and fake Hindutva narrative of Cow smuggling.

I choke and wake up at nights with the cries of little kids, young girls, women being drawn into the crowd by Hindutva zombies; those tears welling down those wrinkled cheeks of mothers and fathers who lost their sons, daughters or some loved ones, a source of support and strength in old age, snatched away, ask me, IS THIS WHAT YOUR RELIGION IS ALL ABOUT?

I have read the Vedas, Upanishads, Geeta, Ramayan, Mahabharata, the texts sacred to Hindus religion. I ask any Hindu to tell me, on the basis of which Verse, are Muslims being lynched, killed and relegated to second class citizenship and made to live in fear?

I also ask my Hindu brothers and sisters, IS THIS ‘YOUR’ HINDU RELIGION AND DOES IT TEACH YOU TO KILL OTHER HUMANS, IRRESPECTIVE OF THEIR RELIGIONS AND RELEGATE THEM TO SECOND CLASS CITIZENSHIP?

What do you ask of your Idols, when you light the lamps every day in your homes, or visit the Temples? That hey lord, please give Hindutva Regime more strength to instil fear amongst Muslims and lower caste Hindus? If that’s the case he seem to be answering their prayers!

This is repulsive and I want to give away any identity that I may knowingly or unknowingly, have with such a Group, Society, Community, Religion.

I fail to understand how can pious, loving and warm Hindu friends and fellow Indians allow 04 lumpen Gujarati thugs, hard-core criminals, recognised internationally, denied Visas, summoned by International Courts, to be our representatives, using the very Constitution which GUARANTEES PROTECTION TO EVERY INDIAN?

Sorry, this is not Hindu Religion by any wild stretch of imagination. This is using Hindu Religion, like Taliban, to kill people, for Power and Control.

The Congress Party has profoundly failed to protect our Muslim brothers. It is being brought down by its on archaic bureaucracy which is not able to give shape to the dreams and vision of Rahul Gandhi. What are they doing behind paying lip service and using SM handles like Journalists and Activists. What worth is their Power? Who will expose and preempt the wicked, demonic Modi Regime? Few Journalists and SM activists, YouTubers are even doing that, at the cost of their lives. What have Congress and Opposition MPs, MLAs done about it since 2014?!

In my five decades of existence, having seen the World, learning about the Civilisations, Religions and experiencing the collective social progress we made together, especially since the Liberalisation, I have never imagined, India would be taken over by such criminals.

Now that we are and that their claim to Power and source of legitimacy is the very Hindutva, derived from Hindu Religion, I have decided to keep distance and my future course shall be carved out soon.

If this is what the HINDU RELIGION can do, as is seen since 2014, I am better off it.

I would also like to ask My dear Hindu Brothers and Sisters – with whom you have shared your homes, Offices, travelled together, played and dreamed together – whether they have become ACCUSTOMED to these atrocities against you all, to the dehumanisation, disenfranchisement and demonization of Muslims?

I hope they answer in Negative. I know many of them are as nauseated and repulsed by the bloody Communal politics of the Sangh Parivar but are mum and frightened for their own selfish reasons.

I am convinced, I owe an unconditional apology to my Muslim Brothers and Sisters. My being a Hindu, a Brahmin at that, makes me a perfect candidate to seek this unconditional apology for the dreadful experience you have had, are having.

I am too weak to do anything about it individually but I hope and wish, my fellow Indians, friends and followers, especially Hindus, Brahmins at that, share letters of support and show Muslims, show the poor, the downtrodden, the backwards class compatriot Brothers and Sisters that we don’t subscribe to what the Modi Regime is doing to them.

Yours faithfully,

Raju Parulekar
(An Ashamed Hindu)

The post Apologies from an ashamed Hindu appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The complaint, dated December 23, 2025, comes nearly a month after CJP’s initial representation of November 25, 2025, which documented how a politically affiliated individual publicly targeted Muslim vendors through religious profiling, forced identity checks, and inflammatory accusations. The absence of any visible deterrent or corrective action, CJP notes, has emboldened the perpetrator and enabled a series of fresh incidents — transforming hate speech into administrative and police action on the ground.

A pattern, not isolated incidents

At the heart of CJP’s follow-up complaint is a critical assertion: what is unfolding at Malabar Hill is not a series of sporadic outbursts, but a continuing and aggravated course of conduct.

Across multiple dates — November 13, December 6, and December 17, 2025 — the same individual has repeatedly targeted Muslim street vendors by appearance and presumed religious identity, invoking communal conspiracy theories such as “land jihad,” “illegal Aadhaar,” and “national security threats.” Each time, these public accusations were followed by immediate and tangible consequences: removal of vendors’ stalls, disruption of livelihood, and police intervention.

The cumulative effect, the complaint argues, is the systematic conversion of a public marketplace into a site of religious policing — where Muslim citizens are publicly cast as illegal, dangerous, and undeserving of economic survival.

Details of the previous complaint may be read here.

December 6: “Land jihad” and the criminalisation of livelihood

On December 6, 2025, a video widely circulated on social media captured the accused individual publicly accusing Muslim hawkers at Malabar Hill of engaging in “land jihad” — a loaded communal trope that frames ordinary economic activity as covert territorial aggression.

Soon after these statements, the vendors’ stalls were removed and the vendors themselves were handed over to the police.

The complaint underscores that such rhetoric is not casual or rhetorical. By deploying conspiratorial language in a crowded public market, lawful vending activity was reframed as an anti-national act, effectively legitimising coercive action against an entire religious group without any due process.

December 17: “Illegal Aadhaar” and national security paranoia

Barely eleven days later, on December 17, 2025, the same individual returned to Malabar Hill to once again target Muslim vendors — this time alleging, without evidence, that they possessed “illegal Aadhaar cards” and posed a threat to national security. He openly declared his intent to emulate extremist campaigns against so-called “illegal Muslim immigration.”

Once again, these statements were followed by the removal of Muslim vendors’ stalls.

CJP highlights the gravity of such allegations: claims of “illegal Aadhaar” directly impute fraud, foreignness, and criminality, placing individuals at immediate risk of detention, harassment, and vigilante violence — particularly when made by politically connected actors in public spaces.

Vigilantism enabled by silence

The follow-up complaint raises serious questions about preventive policing and institutional accountability. When a private individual can repeatedly:

• Declare members of a religious community “illegal” or “anti-national”
• Publicly demand police action
• Successfully trigger eviction, detention, or livelihood loss

— without restraint or prosecution, it signals the emergence of a parallel system of authority, where hate speech substitutes for lawful governance. This silence, the complaint warns, does not merely fail victims; it actively legitimises communal intimidation and encourages imitation — both within Mumbai and beyond.

Markets as sites of exclusion

Street vendors are among the most economically vulnerable groups in urban India. Repeated eviction and public humiliation based on religious suspicion strike directly at the right to livelihood and dignity protected under Article 21 of the Constitution.

CJP’s complaint powerfully situates these incidents within Mumbai’s fraught communal history, warning that branding Muslims as “security threats” in crowded urban markets risks triggering panic, retaliation, and public disorder. When shared civic spaces are transformed into zones of surveillance and exclusion, they cease to be neutral — becoming theatres of majoritarian dominance.

Economic punishment as communal control

What emerges from the Malabar Hill incidents is a form of targeted economic punishment — where Muslim citizens are made to understand that their right to earn a living is contingent on communal acceptability. Such practices amount to collective penalty based purely on religious identity, enforced not through law, but through intimidation, spectacle, and administrative complicity.

The complaint identifies a range of serious offences under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, including promoting enmity between groups, imputations prejudicial to national integration, criminal intimidation, public mischief, and unlawful assumption of public authority. The repetition and continuity of acts, CJP notes, satisfy the threshold for continuing offences.

Constitutionally, the incidents amount to serial violations of Articles 14, 15(1), 19(1)(g), 21, and 25 — eroding secularism, equality, and fraternity as lived principles.

A call for urgent intervention

Through this follow-up complaint, CJP has urged:

• Immediate registration of a comprehensive FIR covering all incidents
• Accountability for any police or civic officials who acted on unlawful verbal directions
• Clear prohibitory orders against private identity checks and religious profiling
• Restoration of livelihood and protection for affected vendors
• Robust intervention by the National Commission for Minorities, including summoning the accused and issuing national advisories

At stake, CJP warns, is not merely the fate of a few vendors — but the integrity of constitutional governance in everyday life. Allowing hate speech to translate into state action normalises religious vigilantism as governance, hollowing out citizenship from the ground up.

Unchecked, such practices threaten to make exclusion ordinary — and injustice routine.

The complete complaint may be read here.

Image: jernih.co

Related:

CJP files complaint over Malabar Hill incident involving Aadhaar checks and targeting of Muslim vendors

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From Despair to Dignity: How CJP helped Elachan Bibi win back her identity, prove her citizenship

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The post Unchecked Vigilantism, Repeated Harm: Why CJP has filed a fresh complaint on Malabar Hill incident appeared first on SabrangIndia.