Waqf Act: Reform or quiet repression?

Intervention could make the system more accountable but the move prioritises control over consultation.

‘At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.” Jawaharlal Nehru’s iconic Tryst with Destiny speech marked the dawn of a new era in India, breaking away from the chains of colonialism and aspiring to become a sovereign, inclusive, and just republic. But with that freedom came the deep wound
of partition, the formation of a separate Muslim state,
and an enduring anxiety about how religion would intersect with national identity in independent India.

That tension appears to have re-emerged today in the form of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill 2025 which was recently passed in both houses of Parliament. At the heart of the controversy is a deep question: Is this bill a genuine attempt at reform or is it yet another tactic in a growing pattern of State-led marginalisation of the Muslim community in the country?

Unlike the Western wall of separation, India’s brand of secularism has always been unique. It is built on a delicate balancing act: respecting all religions, reforming regressive practices, and promoting a national identity that transcends communal lines. The Constitution of India doesn’t just promise freedom of religion; it assures the minorities the right to manage their religious institutions.

This brings us to the waqf system. Derived from Islamic tradition, waqf refers to a charitable endowment, typically for mosques, graveyards, orphanages, or community welfare. Historically, this practice has been deeply rooted in Indian society since the Mughal empire through British rule, and today, nearly 872,000 properties are registered under various state Waqf boards. The Waqf Act of 1995 gave institutional shape to this tradition, ensuring that these properties are protected and used for the community’s welfare. But now, the amendment bill has introduced sweeping changes that have sparked alarm, especially among Muslims.

Most notably, the abolition of “waqf by user,” a category under which approximately 402,000 properties fall, could delegitimise assets that have been handed over through oral tradition or communal understanding, often lacking formal documentation. In a country where historical land records are usually patchy, this move threatens to displace countless communities and erode trust built over centuries.

Another contentious provision in the Bill is the inclusion of non-Muslims in Waqf institutions, ostensibly to increase transparency and curb mismanagement. While this may sound inclusive in theory, critics argue that it risks diluting the autonomy of a religious institution and could lead to cultural insensitivity in decision-making. Would the same logic apply if non-Hindus were placed on boards governing temple trusts? The government further tightens its grip by empowering senior officials above the rank of district collector to oversee land surveys and adjudicate disputes. The Waqf Board, in contrast, has minimal say in such matters. Additionally, a centralised digital system mandates the disclosure of waqf property
details within six months, which is practically impossible given the labyrinthine nature of Indian bureaucracy and
land administration.

To be clear, reforming Waqf boards is not an inherently problematic idea. There have long been complaints of corruption, inefficiency, and opaque governance within these institutions. State involvement could, in theory, bring much-needed structure and accountability to the system. However, the intent behind this bill and the broader context in which it arrives raise serious red flags.

A climate of mistrust

This is not an isolated episode. It follows a series of government actions that have disproportionately affected India’s Muslim population: the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), the handling of the NRC, the hijab bans in some states, and the bulldozing of Muslim homes in the name of “illegal encroachment.” In such a climate, even seemingly neutral administrative changes are viewed through a lens of deep mistrust.

The government must ask itself: what message does it send when it prioritises control over consultation, surveillance over support? When minority communities feel they are constantly under scrutiny and their institutions are being hollowed out, how does that square with the pluralistic promise of the Indian Republic?

The Waqf (Amendment) Bill may aim to reform, but it risks becoming another instrument of quiet repression in its current form. It reinforces the fear that India’s secular soul, so passionately envisioned at the dawn of independence, is slowly being suffocated under the weight of majoritarian politics. And so, seventy-eight years after Nehru’s stirring words, one must ask: will the minorities of this country ever truly find their utterance?

(Fardin is a research scholar at the Department of International Relations, Peace and Public Policy, St Joseph’s University, Bengaluru; Areesh is the head of the department)