Indian Muslims are often told that their survival depends on being exceptional. Not exceptional in achievement or contribution, but exceptional in political quietude. Exceptional in studied moderation. Exceptional in silence. Exceptional in proving, again and again, that they are unlike Muslims elsewhere – less demanding, less visible and less assertive in their claims on the state.
Since Independence, Indian Muslims have enthusiastically participated in democratic life, electoral politics, and constitutional processes. But a subtle and corrosive process has been unfolding: the steady narrowing of legitimate political expression. To belong securely, Muslims are expected not merely to obey the law, but to mute their political voice.
This idea – it could be called Indian Muslim exc…
Indian Muslims are often told that their survival depends on being exceptional. Not exceptional in achievement or contribution, but exceptional in political quietude. Exceptional in studied moderation. Exceptional in silence. Exceptional in proving, again and again, that they are unlike Muslims elsewhere – less demanding, less visible and less assertive in their claims on the state.
Since Independence, Indian Muslims have enthusiastically participated in democratic life, electoral politics, and constitutional processes. But a subtle and corrosive process has been unfolding: the steady narrowing of legitimate political expression. To belong securely, Muslims are expected not merely to obey the law, but to mute their political voice.
This idea – it could be called Indian Muslim exceptionalism – has quietly shaped public discourse for decades. It once framed Indian Muslims as culturally refined but politically suspect; spiritually rich but civically conditional. With the rise of aggressive majoritarian politics, even this limited and conditional acceptance has begun to collapse.
What remains is the expectation of political compliance without the assurance of cultural tolerance or civic equality.
A historical inheritance
The roots of Indian Muslim Exceptionalism lie in the aftermath of Partition. The violence of 1947 did not merely redraw borders – it hardened expectations. Muslims who remained in India were subtly positioned as those who had chosen India and therefore owed it perpetual proof of loyalty.
This post-Partition framing has been well documented by historians such as Mushirul Hasan, who showed how Indian Muslims were morally distinguished from those who migrated – not simply as citizens, but as subjects whose belonging was tied to conduct rather than rights. The Constitution promised equality, but social and political life imposed an additional burden: reassurance.
Over time, a parallel narrative took hold. The “good Muslim” was urbane, syncretic, nostalgic – more a custodian of Indo-Persian heritage than a political subject with claims on the state. Muslim culture could once be selectively tolerated, even aestheticised, while Muslim political agency was consistently constrained. Belonging became conditional on non-assertion.
As political theorist Mahmood Mamdani has argued in Good Muslim, Bad Muslim, modern power often sorts Muslims into those deemed acceptable because they are non-political and those rendered suspect because they speak and act with agency.
From citizens to problems
This condition was not accidental. Political theorist Hilal Ahmed has shown how Muslims in India are routinely framed not as ordinary democratic actors, but as a problem category – a population to be managed rather than represented. Muslim politics is treated less as interest-based participation and more as an anomaly requiring explanation.
The effect of this framing is cumulative. When Muslims organise collectively, their actions are rarely evaluated on constitutional grounds. Instead, they are filtered through questions of intent, loyalty, and consequence. Routine democratic actions – petitioning, protesting, mobilising – acquire a different meaning when Muslims perform it.
Equality is thus recast as tolerance. Citizenship becomes provisional.
Media policing
Exceptionalism is not enforced only through law or policy; it is normalised through language – especially in the media.
When Muslims are victims, they are often described as “minorities”. When they organise, they are labeled “communal”. When they protest, they are framed as “angry”, “radicalised” or “provocative”. When they remain silent, they are praised as “moderate”, “reasonable” or “integrated.”
Hindi scholar Apoorvanand has argued that contemporary nationalism demands moral performance from Muslims, rewarding quiet conformity while casting political speech as disruption. Language here does not merely describe reality – it disciplines it.
By constantly signaling that Muslim visibility invites suspicion, public discourse teaches Muslims that silence is safer than speech. Self-censorship is reframed as civic virtue.
Why comparison matters
Exceptionalism is not unique to Muslims but it operates differently for them.
Dalit political assertion, as analysed by writer Anand Teltumbde and others, is widely recognised as a struggle against a historically documented system of caste oppression. Dalit mobilisation is contested, resisted and often repressed but it is still understood as structurally grounded.
Sikh political claims, examined by scholars such as Gurharpal Singh, are typically negotiated within the constitutional language of federalism, regional autonomy, and religious rights. Even at moments of tension, Sikh politics is discussed as a question of power and representation.
Muslim political claims, by contrast, are rarely granted this legitimacy. They are evaluated as tests of loyalty rather than as rights-based demands. Where Dalits are seen as victims of hierarchy and Sikhs as stakeholders in federal balance, Muslims are framed as a demographic or ideological problem.
This is the core injustice of Indian Muslim Exceptionalism: Muslims are denied the normalcy of political grievance.
Exceptionalism now
Today, this framework is no longer subtle. It is increasingly institutional.
Debates around personal law, citizenship, places of worship, religious education and charitable endowments are framed as neutral reforms. Muslim objections – even when legal and constitutional – are dismissed as emotional, regressive or obstructionist. Muslims are encouraged to accept reforms quietly, challenge them cautiously and never protest them.
Exceptionalism promises safety in exchange for silence but withdraws that promise the moment silence ends.
Recent bail decisions in the Delhi riots cases – where bail was denied to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam while granted to other co-accused – underscore how Muslim political agency itself is differentially assessed. While all the accused are Muslim, the distinction appears to rest not necessarily on religious identity alone but on the perceived threat posed by articulate, oppositional, and influential political speech.
Internalising the frame
Perhaps the most damaging aspect of Indian Muslim Exceptionalism is how deeply it has been internalised by sections of the community itself.
Many Muslim professionals, leaders, and institutions now pre-emptively dilute their language, avoid religious or constitutional vocabulary, or distance themselves from collective Muslim concerns, believing this will ensure acceptance. The hope is that political quietude will be read as responsibility, and patience as maturity.
It is not.
For decades, Muslims have met suspicion with disciplined silence and exclusion with endurance – not because they lacked pride, but because they believed in the promise of the republic. The Republic may be misinterpreting endurance as acceptance and patience as consent.
As writer Arundhati Roy has observed, India once accommodated selective expressions of Muslim culture even as it constrained Muslim politics; today, both cultural presence and political agency are increasingly contested. History shows that conditional belonging is never permanent. Each concession merely raises the bar for the next one.
Beyond Exceptionalism
Indian Muslims do not need to be exceptional to deserve justice. They need only what is inherent to human dignity and constitutionally promised: equality before the law, freedom of conscience and the right to dissent.
Until Indian Muslims speak and act with complete political agency – free from the fear of being labeled as threats – and confront the reality that political quietude is interpreted as weakness and silence as consent, Indian society will continue to praise Muslim compliance while denying Muslims the ordinary exercise of rights enjoyed by other citizens.
The challenge before India is not to manage Muslim difference, but to normalise Muslim citizenship. For some Indian Muslims, exceptionalism may feel like protection. In reality, it is only a slow, quiet form of erasure.
Rasheed Ahmed is the executive director of the Indian American Muslim Council.
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