In May 2025, with President Droupadi Murmu’s assent, the Indian government enacted the Waqf Amendment Bill, 2025, into law. The amendment was presented as an attempt to streamline the administration of Waqf properties—endowments made for charitable or religious purposes in Islam—but upon closer scrutiny, it represents a dangerous turning point in India's legal and political landscape.
It undermines the constitutional rights of Muslims, weakens federalism, and fits within a broader ideological campaign led by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) to reshape India’s secular democratic fabric along communal lines. It introduces problematic changes such as bureaucratic interference in religious autonomy and potential for politically motivated dispossession of Waqf properties. The law faces multiple challenges in the Supreme Court, with petitioners arguing it violates fundamental rights and constitutes hostile discrimination against the Muslim community.
The Waqf Act, in its modern form, was first codified as the Mussalman Wakf Act in 1923 under British colonial rule. Post-independence, it was replaced by the Wakf Act, 1954, which aimed to regulate and protect religious endowments. In 1995, the law was revised comprehensively to increase oversight and formalise Waqf Boards across states. A significant amendment in 2013, under the Congress-led United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government, attempted to address illegal encroachments and mismanagement, but it too failed to resolve systemic issues due to poor implementation. However, none of these versions sought to fundamentally question the religious and community-based character of the Waqf itself. That has changed in 2025.
Changes that draw concern
The 2025 Waqf Amendment introduces a series of changes that have drawn deep concern from legal experts, scholars, and minority rights advocates.
One key change is the separation of Muslim-created trusts under other laws from Waqf, which, while appearing to ensure personal control, in effect severs a long-standing legal overlap. Islamic charitable trusts have often been treated as Waqf due to their religious usage. This artificial distinction threatens to strip such institutions of Waqf protections.
Another major change concerns the eligibility for dedicating Waqf. The stipulation that only a practising Muslim for at least five years can make such a dedication is both vague and dangerous. The law does not define who qualifies as a practising Muslim, leaving the door open for arbitrary and exclusionary interpretations that could target dissenting sects, reformist voices, or even non-practising Muslims. Such a move infringes on the constitutional right to religious freedom under Articles 25 and 26 of the Indian Constitution.
While the government states that existing registered Waqf properties will be protected unless disputed or identified as government land, it creates space for retrospective challenges by the State, shifting the burden of proof to the community. This is especially alarming considering that many Waqf properties have been in use for decades.
The amendment also touches on women’s rights in the context of family Waqf, mandating that women must receive their inheritance before a property is made Waqf. This misrepresents Islamic inheritance laws, which already secure shares for women, and imposes a State-driven view of gender justice, bypassing the community’s own mechanisms of jurisprudence.
Bureaucracy to replace religious autonomy
The removal of Section 40, which empowered Waqf Boards to declare property as Waqf after inquiry, is another troubling development. This authority is now handed over to bureaucrats who may lack religious or historical knowledge, making community-endorsed property claims more vulnerable to State denial. This is despite the fact that Waqf Boards already operate under State oversight and judicial review.
Additionally, while restructuring the tribunal system and providing High Court appeal may appear to enhance oversight, the inclusion of non-expert judges and executive officers dilutes the religious and cultural context of such disputes, increasing State interference in community-managed matters.
The government’s assertion that the new provisions prevent false Waqf claims on government land ignores the historical practice of recognising Waqf by usage. Many religious properties have been used for generations without formal registration, and this provision allows the State to retroactively invalidate such claims, effectively rewriting history to justify dispossession.
The amendment also reduces the mandatory contribution of Waqf institutions to Boards from 7% to 5%. While this may appear to favour charitable spending, it risks financially weakening the already underpowered Boards that rely on these funds to function. Audits for institutions earning over Rs 1 lakh annually are being mandated in the name of transparency, but audits have long been a part of Waqf oversight. The real problem lies in bureaucratic delays and corruption; this new clause may simply create avenues for selective targeting and political misuse.
Similarly, the plan to create a centralised digital portal for Waqf properties is presented as a transparency initiative. However, digitisation without local oversight could result in top-down manipulation of records. Many rural caretakers also lack the resources or skills to navigate such systems, making the effort exclusionary in practice.
The inclusion of non-Muslim and female members on Waqf Boards is being promoted as a step toward diversity and inclusion, but in reality, it infringes on religious autonomy guaranteed under Article 26. Religious communities in India, such as Hindus managing temple trusts, are not subject to such external impositions. Imposing non-Muslims on Waqf Boards is both discriminatory and inconsistent. Moreover, token representation of women without real decision-making power does little to change structural inequities.
The most glaring move under scrutiny is the inclusion of non-Muslim members in the Central Waqf Council and State Waqf Boards. This is rationalised in the name of inclusivity and diversity. But in reality, it constitutes an ideological intrusion. Waqf is a religious charitable endowment made by Muslims for Islamic purposes. Its governance has always been the prerogative of the community, rooted in religious law and practice. By inserting non-Muslim members into its core, the government is not promoting pluralism but asserting bureaucratic supremacy over religious autonomy.
This is particularly troubling given the BJP government's track record. Across various states, there have been increasing instances of Waqf properties being labelled as encroachments or illegal occupations. The centralisation of authority in the hands of the State under this law is consistent with previous actions aimed at curbing the independence of minority-run institutions such as madrasas and Muslim educational trusts. Simultaneously, similar scrutiny is conspicuously absent in the case of majority-community religious endowments, which often enjoy far greater autonomy.
Usurping Waqf by usage
Finally, the application of the Limitation Act to Waqf disputes could bar justice in countless cases. Many Waqf properties are centuries old, and documentation may have been lost due to displacement or neglect. Imposing time limits effectively locks the doors to redress, even in cases of clear historical ownership.
Under the Waqf Acts of 1954 and 1995, Waqf property determination was already governed by state Waqf Boards and guided by the Central Waqf Council, a statutory advisory body under the Ministry of Minority Affairs. The Bill removes the Waqf Boards’ power to determine whether a property is Waqf, instead giving that authority to District Collectors. This move effectively strips the Boards of their central role, transferring control to civil servants who may lack both the religious understanding and impartiality necessary for such decisions.
It reflects a deeper suspicion of Muslim self-governance and an effort to embed State control in religious life. The question now is not about regulation but about control. If transparency was the goal, reforms could have focused on strengthening existing mechanisms. Instead, this amendment centralises authority, disempowers community-led Boards, and replaces religious self-governance with bureaucratic override.
The principle of “once a Waqf, always a Waqf,” deeply rooted in Islamic jurisprudence, is circumvented by giving District Collectors authority to determine disputes over Waqf property, removing the power from Waqf Boards. This is problematic and may result in the erosion of religious autonomy. The sanctity of Waqf as an irrevocable endowment is undermined when State-appointed officers, rather than religious authorities or tribunals, decide its fate.
The amendment also formalises government authority to remove Waqf status from properties previously classified as such if they are found to be government land. This provision is ripe for abuse.
In the past, claims of encroachment or misclassification have been used to dispossess Waqf properties. Now, with no judicial oversight at the initial stage and power concentrated in the hands of revenue officials, the risk of politically motivated dispossession becomes even more acute.
Any government property identified as Waqf is automatically declassified, a move that benefits the State more than the Waqf institutions. There are no equivalent laws for managing Christian or Hindu religious properties with such detailed, government-controlled apparatus.
BJP’s selective targeting of Muslims
The selective targeting of the Muslim community is emphasised through the insertion of the Comptroller and Auditor General of India (CAG) and Union government authority into auditing Waqf accounts. Financial scrutiny is necessary, but such targeting undercuts the principle of equality. No parallel auditing regime exists for the financial management of trusts belonging to other religious communities.
When laws are selectively applied to one community, they cease to be instruments of justice and become tools of intimidation. This is not just administrative overreach but a challenge to the secular ethos of the Constitution.
Unlike secularism in the West, where the State is separate from the functioning of all religious institutions and religion is confined to the private sphere, secularism in India has never meant the absence of religion from public life. Instead, it has meant equal respect for all religions and the protection of their institutional autonomy. By undermining this principle, the government not only marginalises Muslims but sets a precedent for a state that views religious minorities as subjects to be governed, not citizens to be served.
Challenged in court
The Supreme Court is currently hearing multiple petitions challenging the law’s validity, filed by political leaders, religious organisations, and civil society groups. Petitioners describe the law as a blatant intrusion into the rights of a religious denomination to manage its own affairs, as guaranteed under Article 26 of the Constitution. The Samastha Kerala Jamiathul Ulema, a Sunni Muslim religious body in Kerala, filed a petition through Advocate Zulfiker Ali PS, arguing that the amendments distort the religious character of Waqfs and irreparably damage democratic governance within Waqf Boards.
Congress MP Mohammad Jawed, who served on the Joint Parliamentary Committee reviewing the Bill, filed a separate petition through Advocate Anas Tanwir, arguing that the law discriminates against the Muslim community by imposing arbitrary and exclusive restrictions on Waqf properties, such as mandating that only Muslims who have practiced Islam for at least five years may create Waqfs and denying Waqf-alal-aulad endowments the ability to exclude female heirs from inheritance. These restrictions do not apply to religious endowments of other communities, and therefore constitute hostile discrimination, violating Articles 14 and 15.
Asaduddin Owaisi, MP and president of All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM), filed a petition via Advocate Izafeer Ahmad, stating that the law irreversibly dilutes protections afforded to Waqfs and grants undue advantage to other stakeholders and interest groups. Delhi AAP MLA Amanatullah Khan has requested the entire Act be struck down as unconstitutional, alleging it violates multiple fundamental rights, including Articles 14, 15, 21, 25, 26, 29, 30, and 300A. The Association for the Protection of Civil Rights, a prominent civil liberties organisation, also filed a petition challenging the law, highlighting its arbitrary erosion of minority rights and warning of large-scale dispossession of Waqf lands.
Shrinking space
To understand why this Act cannot be read in good faith, it is crucial to contextualise it within the BJP’s political track record and, more alarmingly, the State-sanctioned atmosphere of hate and intolerance now gripping India. The ruling Bharatiya Janata Party has steadily shrunk space for minorities, especially Muslims, as well as for dissenting voices and liberal thought. Hate speech is no longer an aberration but has become institutionalised. Worse, this proliferation of hate is accompanied by a culture of impunity, where offenders are often met not with accountability but active encouragement from senior leaders.
The BJP government has long fashioned itself as the guardian of good governance and national unity. However, its legislative interventions into the lives, institutions, and cultural spaces of Indian Muslims expose a fundamentally different agenda—one that undermines secularism and entrenches majoritarianism. The Waqf Amendment Bill, 2025 must be seen not as an isolated legislative correction but as part of a calculated pattern aimed at weakening Muslim autonomy, culture, and institutional self-governance.
We must examine not just the clauses of this law, but the broader pattern of governance under the BJP, marked by targeted legal, institutional, and rhetorical attacks on Indian Muslims.
For example, the abrogation of Article 370 on August 5, 2019, revoked Jammu and Kashmir’s special constitutional status. This action not only disenfranchised millions of Kashmiris but also symbolically severed a constitutional promise made to a region with a unique Muslim identity.
The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), passed on December 11, 2019, introduced religion as a criterion for citizenship by fast-tracking naturalisation for non-Muslim migrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. Muslims, including Rohingyas, widely considered among the most persecuted groups globally, were explicitly excluded.
The BJP’s project goes beyond laws; it is cultural and symbolic, too. Cities with Muslim names have been systematically renamed: Allahabad became Prayagraj, Mughal Sarai became Pandit Deen Dayal Upadhyay Nagar, and Faizabad became Ayodhya.
Between 2015 and 2018, at least 44 people (36 Muslims) were lynched in cow-related violence, according to Human Rights Watch. BJP leaders offered no serious condemnation.
The assault on pluralism extends to education. The National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT) textbooks have undergone radical revisions under BJP rule, altering references to the Mughal Empire, Gandhi’s assassin Nathuram Godse’s Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh links, Gandhi’s opposition to Hindu nationalism, and Nehru’s ideas of secularism.
The targeting of madrasas, ongoing since 2017, intensified post-2022. In multiple BJP-ruled states like Assam and Uttar Pradesh, the government has systematically targeted madrasas under the pretext of reform or security.
The real danger lies not only in offensive speech but in “dangerous speech”—language that increases the likelihood of violence against another group. There were numerous instances in 2024 where politicians and religious leaders called for violence, advocated economic boycotts of Muslim businesses, and threatened the demolition or seizure of mosques. According to India Hate Lab, in a report published on February 10, 2025, hate speech incidents targeting religious minorities rose from 668 in 2023 to 1,165 in 2024, a 74.4% spike.
The enabling role of social media in this hate ecosystem cannot be overstated. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, YouTube, Telegram, and X have become conduits for misinformation, communal propaganda, and calls to violence. Facebook alone hosted 495 hate speech videos, yet by February 6, 2025, only three had been taken down.
These inflammatory narratives have not remained confined to speeches or tweets—they have translated into real-world violence, as was brutally illustrated in the February 2020 Delhi riots, which left 53 people dead and hundreds injured, most of them Muslims. A landmark report, Uncertain Justice, released on October 8, 2021, by a citizens’ committee led by retired Supreme Court judge Justice Madan B Lokur, laid bare how anti-Muslim hate speech, BJP election rhetoric, and police complicity created the conditions for this pogrom.
The Justice Lokur Committee concluded with a sobering warning: relations between Hindus and Muslims have been fundamentally altered, and Indian Muslims’ political agency has been wounded. It urged deliberative acts of reconciliation, State accountability for violence and neglect, and a robust legal framework to punish State excesses and unjustified prosecutions.
Cultural domination
In this context, the Waqf Bill looks less like reform and more like a legal mechanism to validate dispossession. How can a government that allows such rhetoric to flourish be trusted with overseeing minority religious institutions?
It is part of a larger project of cultural domination, where Muslim heritage, property, and autonomy are viewed as obstacles to the majoritarian nation envisioned by the ruling establishment. Muslims chose to remain in India in 1947 because the country was built on the promise of secularism—a State that did not belong to any one religion.
One powerful example of the importance placed on secularism is the Somnath temple reconstruction in the early 1950s. Jawaharlal Nehru strongly opposed the use of State funds; hence, the temple was rebuilt using private donations. Out of respect for secular principles, President Dr Rajendra Prasad was discouraged from attending its inauguration. Compare that to today: the Ram Mandir, built on the site of the demolished Babri Masjid, was glorified as a national event, with taxpayer funds supporting construction and all major constitutional authorities, like the Prime Minister, and Chief Ministers, present at its inauguration. The destruction of a mosque was turned into a State-sponsored celebration, showcasing the collapse of constitutional neutrality.
When elected MPs, religious leaders like Baba Ramdev, and cabinet ministers repeatedly make derogatory, inflammatory remarks about Indian Muslims—calling them terrorists, questioning their loyalty, or threatening violence—it corrodes the foundation of India’s secular republic.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s own record on these matters is deeply troubling. As Chief Minister of Gujarat during the 2002 riots, Modi failed to prevent the massacre of over 2,000 people, mostly Muslims, and was accused of complicity and silence in the face of mass violence. While Modi was cleared of personal culpability by the Supreme Court-appointed SIT, the findings did not exonerate the state government from administrative and moral failure.
Even after rising to the national stage, Modi has made dog-whistle remarks referring to “infiltrators” and “those who breed more children”—statements clearly designed to target Muslims without naming them. His prolonged silence after incidents like lynching of Muslim men on suspicion of cow slaughter or the 2020 Delhi riots, where political speeches incited mob violence, underscores a pattern of implicit endorsement of anti-Muslim sentiments.
Waqf Act as a strategic tool
This political context is telling. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has been criticised for selective responses to national crises—from the unrest in Manipur to reports of Chinese incursions and the horrific incident of rape in West Bengal—while appearing quick to exploit communal events for political gain. His government has created an atmosphere in which religious majoritarianism can flourish, making it almost laughable to argue that the Waqf Bill is a genuine attempt at reform. Its intent must be judged not by the text of the law but by the track record of the regime that drafted it—a government that has turned state neutrality into fiction, institutional equality into a joke, and the promise of Indian secularism into an ever-distant dream.
Given this consistent record, it is extremely difficult to accept the argument that the Waqf Act is a genuine reform to improve governance. The same government that undermines Muslim rights, vilifies Muslim citizens, and celebrates the demolition of their religious institutions cannot be trusted to reform their religious trusts. It is far more likely that the Waqf Bill is a strategic tool, allowing the State to legally reframe and reappropriate Muslim spaces under the cover of administrative necessity. What is unfolding is not merely a legislative overhaul but a gradual transformation of India’s secular character into a majoritarian State, where one community’s dominance is normalised and institutionalised.
If this trajectory continues unchecked, India risks betraying not just its minorities but the very ideals on which it was founded. The Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, must therefore be understood not as a neutral policy reform but as part of a larger, dangerous trajectory. It is designed to curtail Muslim rights under the guise of accountability. Its real purpose is to consolidate State control, delegitimise Muslim community management, and further a majoritarian national identity that leaves little space for pluralism.
Rayyan Ebrahim Kidwai is a second-year law student at the National Law University, Jodhpur, and a professional polo player. He combines his academic pursuit of law with a passion for politics, writing on law, society, and culture.
Views expressed are the author’s own.