Arshad Mahmood Awan
Islamophobia in India today is far more than isolated outbursts of mob violence or the actions of fringe groups. What was once dismissed by some as sporadic incidents has, over time, evolved into a pattern of exclusionary politics and state behaviour that systematically targets Muslims as a community. Nowhere is this trend more stark, and more consequential, than in Indian‑administered Jammu and Kashmir, where the politics of fear, control, and securitisation have extended deep into everyday religious life.
Recent reports that authorities in the occupied Himalayan territory are profiling mosques and mosque management committees represent a disturbing escalation. According to these accounts, police have distributed detailed forms requiring personal, financial, and even digital information about mosque leaders and members of management bodies. At first glance, such demands might be framed as bureaucratic record‑keeping. But in the broader context of Jammu and Kashmir, they signal something far more troubling: an attempt to monitor, regulate, and ultimately control Muslim religious expression as part of a securitisation strategy.
Pakistan has condemned this development as a blatant intrusion into religious affairs and a grave violation of fundamental freedoms. From Islamabad’s perspective, this initiative contradicts India’s own constitutional guarantees of freedom of religion and belief. It also fits a wider pattern under the current political order in India, where Hindutva‑inspired ideologies influence laws, governance, and public discourse in ways that disadvantage religious minorities, particularly Muslims.
To understand the deeper significance of mosque profiling in Kashmir, it helps to see it as part of a sustained progression of policies and actions that progressively erode Muslim civic and cultural space. Over the past decade, a series of regulatory and legal measures have disproportionately affected Muslim charitable endowments, educational institutions, and community organisations.
For example, legislation governing Waqf boards has been criticised for imposing state control over properties and assets traditionally managed by Muslim communities. These laws have made it easier for administrative authorities to intervene in how endowments are managed, diverting funds or influencing decisions in ways that can undermine community autonomy. Similarly, crackdowns on certain forms of religious schooling, especially institutions associated with Muslim education, have been framed in security terms, even when they stem from long‑standing local traditions.
On the ground, such measures matter because they gradually normalise a sense of exceptionalism: that Muslim institutions must be overseen more closely by the state than others, that religious life is a potential security problem, that Muslim organisations should be treated with suspicion unless proven otherwise. When these assumptions are built into laws and official practices, they shape public perceptions too.
In Jammu and Kashmir, where political autonomy was revoked in August 2019, these dynamics take on even greater urgency. The region has been under prolonged military occupation and heavy security presence for decades. Political dissent is tightly managed. Freedom of expression is routinely restricted. In such an environment, the extension of intrusive monitoring into places of worship compounds everyday anxieties about identity, belonging, and human dignity.
Mosques in Kashmir are not merely buildings for prayer. They are community centres, places of solace, and symbols of spiritual resilience for a people living under prolonged conflict and occupation. When state authorities demand lists of worshippers, financial details, and digital identifiers, it is not hard for ordinary Kashmiris to see this as an attempt to surveil their faith, not just their activities. Such measures create a climate of fear and erode trust between citizens and the institutions meant to protect them.
A society in which religious institutions must answer to security imperatives is a society that has already lost something essential: the freedom to practise faith without interference. Freedom of religion is not a privilege that governments grant at will. It is an inherent human right recognised by international instruments and norms. When that right is abridged for one group, it weakens the moral fabric of pluralistic societies everywhere.
Pakistan’s response, condemning the profiling of mosques and calling on global actors to recognise the pattern, reflects Islamabad’s longstanding position on Kashmir and minority rights in the region. From Islamabad’s perspective, such measures are not just administrative curiosities; they are part of a wider campaign to suppress Muslim identity and institutional autonomy in Jammu and Kashmir and beyond.
Yet the responsibility for addressing these issues does not rest with Pakistan alone. The international community, particularly countries and organisations that claim to uphold religious freedom, minority rights, and human rights, must take note. Selective attention to human rights violations undermines credibility. If Muslim communities in Kashmir are subject to intrusive surveillance simply because of their religious identity, then calls for human rights must not be reserved for incidents that make headlines elsewhere.
Global institutions, civil society networks, and human rights advocates have a role to play in documenting these developments, urging restraint, and holding governments accountable to universal standards. Ensuring that religious freedoms are respected is not only a matter of principle; it is essential for peaceful coexistence and long-term stability.
The reported profiling of mosques and their leadership in Jammu and Kashmir is not an isolated bureaucratic exercise. It reflects a broader trajectory in which security frameworks, political doctrines, and administrative practices conspire to marginalise a community’s religious life. This trend has implications far beyond the valley, it challenges the idea that religious freedom is inviolable within modern democratic states, and it raises urgent questions about how pluralistic societies manage diversity.
If freedom of religion is truly inalienable, then its protection must be non-negotiable. This applies whether the issue arises in the crowded streets of a major Indian city or the prayer halls of Kashmir’s valleys. As long as such rights are compromised, the struggle for dignity, justice, and equality continues, not just for Kashmiris, but for all who believe in universal human rights.
