Political Islam: Religion in Uniform

 

Every few months, the country becomes excited about something. Sometimes it is onions, sometimes cricket, and sometimes what one must or must not say about history. This time the excitement came from Gorakhpur, where Yogi Adityanath stated that political Islam did great damage to Sanatan civilization — and that we have rarely had the courage to discuss it honestly.

Predictably, half the country clapped, and the other half took offense as if someone had insulted their grandfather. The truth, as always, sits quietly in the middle, waiting for adults to arrive.

Let us first separate Islam from political Islam. Islam the religion is a private faith: prayer, charity, discipline, poetry, a taste for beautiful calligraphy, and a sense of surrender before the divine. Political Islam is something altogether different. It is religion in uniform. It is a faith that has picked up a flag.

The moment the first Islamic state was formed in Medina, religion became not just what one believed, but what one governed. From then onwards, expansion was not only spiritual but territorial. Armies marched. Borders moved. Cultures were reshaped. Yogi was simply pointing to this historical fact. Pretending otherwise is like pretending that rain is dry.

One must also admit that India was not merely preached to — it was conquered. Dynasties did not come here to hold interfaith poetry competitions. They came to rule. They taxed temples, broke some, spared others, patronised art when it pleased them, and sharpened swords when it didn’t. To say this is not communal. It is history. What is communal is the insistence that history should be polite.

And yet, the moment someone mentions political Islam, a chorus begins:

Why dig up the past?

Why talk about invasions?

Let us move forward.

This selective amnesia is touching, but suspicious. Nobody objects when we critique British colonialism — every museum, every textbook, every opinion-column is full of it. But mention Islamic political expansion, and suddenly everyone becomes very gentle, as if history is a patient recovering from surgery.

Yogi is simply saying: if we are mature enough to talk about British colonialism, we should be mature enough to talk about Islamic colonialism too. And he is right.

The argument that “this will create communal tension” assumes that ordinary Hindus and Muslims are children who cannot handle truth. This is an insult to both. Hindus are not so fragile that they will riot at the mention of the past. Muslims are not so insecure that they cannot tolerate historical honesty.

Political Islam has done damage here — cultural, architectural, social. Not always out of malice; sometimes simply because that is what empires do. Yogi’s point is not to punish today’s Muslims. It is to keep the memory of civilization alive.

If a wound is not cleaned, it festers.

If a history is not understood, it repeats.

The purpose is not hatred. The purpose is clarity.

Political Islam is not a private devotion. It is a strategic doctrine, born of the belief that faith and power must walk together. It has shaped kingdoms, borders, and identities. It continues today in gentler forms — demographic persuasion, cultural assertiveness, legal demands of exclusivity. To deny this is not secularism. It is cowardice.

Yogi’s statement was not a war-cry. It was a reminder. A civilization that refuses to speak of what hurt it becomes a civilization that forgets how to protect itself.

And remembering is not hate.

Forgetting is surrender.

Jai Hind.