In the world's largest democracy and nominally secular republic, increasing intolerance for religious expression is not merely ironic — it is disquieting. The recent outrage at the phrase "I love Muhammad," which landed one person in hot water in Uttar Pradesh and another in Maharashtra, is more than a fleeting moment of communal discomfort. It was a cry of India's democratic and constitutional conscience — a shift under which Muslim identity appeals are being read more and more in the framework of suspicion, hate, and politicalization.

The feelings, written or spoken by Muslims to celebrate the Eid Milad-un-Nabi celebrations in Bareilly, should have been normal. It was a political and public expression of love for the Prophet of Islam, no more emotionally charged than political and religious slogans uttered in public every day. But for reasons that lie beyond law and order, it led to a complete chain of occurrences involving FIRs, internet ban, arrest, and violence. The state's reaction was swift and draconian — as though such a belief were threatening to public order, and not an expression of constitutionally protected religious belief. The disparity between state reactions to indistinguishable speech is, in reality, central to this controversy.

In today's India, inviting political leaders by the medium of "I love Modi" slogans or putting up huge cutouts of Hindu deities and goddesses on roadsides is not only acceptable but cheered out loud. However, discussing loving a man revered by millions of Muslims is criminalized in some areas. This differential deployment of the right to freedom of speech and religion is a lethal slide into majoritarianism — a tendency to view constitutional freedoms being differentially enforced based on the group identity of those who seek to invoke them. The Bareilly incidents were not an isolated occurrence.

The same graffiti and slogans at Maharashtra's Ahilyanagar led to communal upset, which had resulted in baton charges, arrests, and demolitions — the majority of them against Muslim shops. These are more than maintaining the peace; they are a policy of state-backed collective punishment and intimidation. Properties are reduced to rubble without resort to due process, normally justified later as illegal encroachment, providing a way of living where the citizens are not just fearful of the crowd but of the state. This is becoming widespread enough in contemporary India. In these regimes of BJP rule and men like Yogi Adityanath in Uttar Pradesh, the line between governance and ideology has been erased.

State apparatus, which was originally tasked with upholding constitutional norms, is now being deployed to track identity and suppress dissent — particularly if it arises from minority groups. State no longer an impartial guarantor of rights increasingly takes the form of a strong majoritarian instrument of coercion. These trends have significant consequences. They first undermine the ethos of India's Constitution that guarantees the free practice and profession of religion to all its citizens. Article 25 is unencumbered by any restraint on the basis of religious popularity or political expediency.

Actually, these rights are being taken away — not through legislation, but through arbitrariness and an atmosphere of intimidation. The impact is a stern warning to India's 200 million Muslims: your religion is tolerated, but only to the extent that others approve. Politicians who resist this trend are met with political backlash or are labeled as agitators and removed from office. Not everyone of the ruling elite is so confident that this is the right approach, however. Jahanzaib Sirwal, BJP leader in Indian Illegally Occupied Jammu and Kashmir, came on record against the government reaction to the scandal as vindictive and disproportionate.

His is a voice of wider discontent — even within the party — at the speed with which the state reverts to repression rather than reconciliation. It is too much a policy or political matter of ideology. Ultimately, it is a question of what kind of country India wishes to be. Will it be a democracy where people are equal citizens, regardless of religion? Or is India evolving into an in-name-only democracy, wherein citizenship and rights are being channeled increasingly through religious identification? These are tough questions, but questions that should be asked — and answered — before the damage is done. In criminalizing the ordinary expressions of Muslim religion, the state is not merely barring a considerable segment of its citizens but also creating a cycle of grievance and radicalism. The more targeted and segmented individuals are, the more they feel left out, the less they have confidence in democratic institutions. This undermines the very institution on which the republic is founded. Also feeding into this are forces of radicalization that thrive on polarization, opening up even wider fissures only deeper that would require generations to heal. What might have been a harmless, pacific celebration of religious faith was rendered a national tinderbox, not for the words themselves but for what they indicate about the well-being of the Indian republic today.

The phrase "I love Muhammad" was never an incitement. It was only politicized in a political culture accustomed to recognize Muslim expression as suspicious. That one word of endearment would be sufficient to bring about arrest and violence is a measure of how far the nation has fallen from ideals of equality, brotherhood, and secularism. Ultimately, the best indicator of a democracy is not what it does to its majority, but how well it defends the rights of its minorities. And on that measure, India is failing. How to go about this is not a series of legal band-aids — it requires moral courage, political vision, and a return to the values that once sustained the nation. Only then can India be a democracy for all citizens, and not for the privileged elite.

Amina Jabbar is a Research Fellow at Quaid e Azam University