<p>The uncovering of a terror module, allegedly driven by doctors and other educated professionals, has opened an unsettling chapter in India’s security landscape. The arrests of <br>two Kashmiri doctors, the disappearance of another academic who taught at a private university in Faridabad, and the questioning of more medics – including a female postgraduate – point to a shift that investigators say is increasingly visible across recent cases: radicalisation within educated, urban professional circles.</p>.<p>The November 10 car explosion outside Delhi’s Red Fort, which killed at least 12 people according to official tallies, signalled more than a high-impact attack on a symbolic site. Barely a few hours earlier, investigators recovered nearly 2,500-2,900 kilograms of suspected explosive material from the premises of a Faridabad hospital, one of the largest such hauls in the NCR in recent years, according to police briefings. But what has alarmed agencies more is the profile of the perpetrators.</p>.<p>Two doctors from Kashmir are in custody; another man, identified as a doctor, had been missing since the blast and is feared to have been in the car when it detonated. Investigators say DNA recovered from the blast site matched the family samples of Dr Umar Nabi, whom they have identified as the person believed to have been in the white Hyundai i20 that exploded near the Red Fort. Another suspect doctor – previously terminated by the Jammu and Kashmir administration in earlier security crackdowns – had later been employed at a private university in Faridabad and disappeared in the days following the explosion, according to investigators who have questioned colleagues and contacts.</p>.<p>This pattern has reinforced a growing assessment inside India’s security agencies: that some external handlers and transnational radical forces are increasingly targeting educated professionals who possess technical expertise, mobility, and institutional access that traditional militant recruits rarely have. These networks, officers say, operate partly through encrypted communication platforms and partly through closed ideological circles in which radicalisation is gradual, relational, and often invisible until too late.</p>.<p>For decades, India’s most recognisable terror threats involved infiltration, local militant recruitment, and weapons smuggling across the Line of Control. But sustained counter-terror operations, tighter border surveillance, and a dramatic decline in local militant recruitment in Jammu and Kashmir have squeezed the traditional ecosystem.</p>.<p>What is emerging in its place is subtler: professionally qualified individuals embedded in hospitals, universities, and laboratories; individuals who move freely between states; individuals whose digital literacy allows them to obscure communications and finances. Security officials point out that this trend echoes earlier waves of radicalisation seen in the country – from tech professionals who were linked to the Indian Mujahideen in the 2000s to ISIS-inspired modules busted in Kerala, Maharashtra, and Telangana since 2016, where dentists, pharmacists, engineers, and IT workers played active roles.</p>.<p>The Red Fort module, investigators say, fits a similar pattern, but with a higher degree of coordination, more significant explosive capability, and wider geographic dispersion.</p>.<p><strong>The invisible frontlines</strong></p>.<p>White-collar radicalisation is not easily captured by traditional profiling methods. A doctor or university lecturer with no criminal record, good academic credentials, and stable employment does not attract the same surveillance flags as an armed militant or known recruiter. Their access to chemicals, labs, logistics networks, and institutional confidentiality makes them harder to detect.</p>.<p>Moreover, these individuals often radicalise through digital pathways: encrypted chat-rooms, ideological mentorship by overseas actors, and curated grievance-based propaganda. Financial transactions use digital rails, micro-donations, or anonymous wallets, complicating detection.</p>.<p>This decentralised, professionalised ecosystem forces agencies to strengthen cyber forensics, improve inter-state coordination, and work more closely with academic and medical institutions. Recognising early signs of ideological drift – subtle behavioural shifts, unexplained foreign contacts, or concealed travel – becomes as important as traditional counter-terror operations.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Investigators have found conversations in several recent cases referring to concepts such as “scientific jihad” – the notion that professional skills can be repurposed into mechanisms of violence. Experts say this psychological framing is part of a broader pattern of online radicalisation, where alienated professionals are told their education is a weapon and their intellect a duty.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The danger, analysts warn, lies in the moral inversion: when a doctor trained to heal or an academic trained to question begins to rationalise destruction as “greater purpose”.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Red Fort blast is not merely a security breach; it is a signal of a shifting battlefield. Terror networks, guided by external handlers rather than local militant structures, are increasingly exploiting educated Indians who can operate invisibly within cities.</p>.<p class="bodytext">India’s response must therefore be twofold: first, strengthening digital surveillance, financial tracking, and institutional alertness; second, expanding deradicalisation frameworks into colleges, universities, and professional associations, where ideological drift often begins unnoticed.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In an era when the next terror operative could be a doctor performing night duty or a researcher working in a lab, India must protect not just its borders but its intellectual and institutional spaces.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Red Fort blast shows that the new jihad does not emerge from forests or mountain hideouts; it walks in white coats, blends into classrooms, and hides in encrypted channels. The frontline has shifted, and the country must adjust swiftly.</p>
<p>The uncovering of a terror module, allegedly driven by doctors and other educated professionals, has opened an unsettling chapter in India’s security landscape. The arrests of <br>two Kashmiri doctors, the disappearance of another academic who taught at a private university in Faridabad, and the questioning of more medics – including a female postgraduate – point to a shift that investigators say is increasingly visible across recent cases: radicalisation within educated, urban professional circles.</p>.<p>The November 10 car explosion outside Delhi’s Red Fort, which killed at least 12 people according to official tallies, signalled more than a high-impact attack on a symbolic site. Barely a few hours earlier, investigators recovered nearly 2,500-2,900 kilograms of suspected explosive material from the premises of a Faridabad hospital, one of the largest such hauls in the NCR in recent years, according to police briefings. But what has alarmed agencies more is the profile of the perpetrators.</p>.<p>Two doctors from Kashmir are in custody; another man, identified as a doctor, had been missing since the blast and is feared to have been in the car when it detonated. Investigators say DNA recovered from the blast site matched the family samples of Dr Umar Nabi, whom they have identified as the person believed to have been in the white Hyundai i20 that exploded near the Red Fort. Another suspect doctor – previously terminated by the Jammu and Kashmir administration in earlier security crackdowns – had later been employed at a private university in Faridabad and disappeared in the days following the explosion, according to investigators who have questioned colleagues and contacts.</p>.<p>This pattern has reinforced a growing assessment inside India’s security agencies: that some external handlers and transnational radical forces are increasingly targeting educated professionals who possess technical expertise, mobility, and institutional access that traditional militant recruits rarely have. These networks, officers say, operate partly through encrypted communication platforms and partly through closed ideological circles in which radicalisation is gradual, relational, and often invisible until too late.</p>.<p>For decades, India’s most recognisable terror threats involved infiltration, local militant recruitment, and weapons smuggling across the Line of Control. But sustained counter-terror operations, tighter border surveillance, and a dramatic decline in local militant recruitment in Jammu and Kashmir have squeezed the traditional ecosystem.</p>.<p>What is emerging in its place is subtler: professionally qualified individuals embedded in hospitals, universities, and laboratories; individuals who move freely between states; individuals whose digital literacy allows them to obscure communications and finances. Security officials point out that this trend echoes earlier waves of radicalisation seen in the country – from tech professionals who were linked to the Indian Mujahideen in the 2000s to ISIS-inspired modules busted in Kerala, Maharashtra, and Telangana since 2016, where dentists, pharmacists, engineers, and IT workers played active roles.</p>.<p>The Red Fort module, investigators say, fits a similar pattern, but with a higher degree of coordination, more significant explosive capability, and wider geographic dispersion.</p>.<p><strong>The invisible frontlines</strong></p>.<p>White-collar radicalisation is not easily captured by traditional profiling methods. A doctor or university lecturer with no criminal record, good academic credentials, and stable employment does not attract the same surveillance flags as an armed militant or known recruiter. Their access to chemicals, labs, logistics networks, and institutional confidentiality makes them harder to detect.</p>.<p>Moreover, these individuals often radicalise through digital pathways: encrypted chat-rooms, ideological mentorship by overseas actors, and curated grievance-based propaganda. Financial transactions use digital rails, micro-donations, or anonymous wallets, complicating detection.</p>.<p>This decentralised, professionalised ecosystem forces agencies to strengthen cyber forensics, improve inter-state coordination, and work more closely with academic and medical institutions. Recognising early signs of ideological drift – subtle behavioural shifts, unexplained foreign contacts, or concealed travel – becomes as important as traditional counter-terror operations.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Investigators have found conversations in several recent cases referring to concepts such as “scientific jihad” – the notion that professional skills can be repurposed into mechanisms of violence. Experts say this psychological framing is part of a broader pattern of online radicalisation, where alienated professionals are told their education is a weapon and their intellect a duty.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The danger, analysts warn, lies in the moral inversion: when a doctor trained to heal or an academic trained to question begins to rationalise destruction as “greater purpose”.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Red Fort blast is not merely a security breach; it is a signal of a shifting battlefield. Terror networks, guided by external handlers rather than local militant structures, are increasingly exploiting educated Indians who can operate invisibly within cities.</p>.<p class="bodytext">India’s response must therefore be twofold: first, strengthening digital surveillance, financial tracking, and institutional alertness; second, expanding deradicalisation frameworks into colleges, universities, and professional associations, where ideological drift often begins unnoticed.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In an era when the next terror operative could be a doctor performing night duty or a researcher working in a lab, India must protect not just its borders but its intellectual and institutional spaces.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Red Fort blast shows that the new jihad does not emerge from forests or mountain hideouts; it walks in white coats, blends into classrooms, and hides in encrypted channels. The frontline has shifted, and the country must adjust swiftly.</p>