Category: Religion

  • How one young woman broke free of a media addiction

    How one young woman broke free of a media addiction

    I knew every word to the saddest songs on my playlist. Not because I loved music, but because depression had become my language. I was 14, lying in my room with my family just beyond the door, close enough to hear their voices, far enough that they might as well have been in another country.

    I had been expelled from school months earlier. “Disciplinary issues,” they called it. My family’s disappointment sat heavy in our home, unspoken but everywhere. We lived together, ate together, but there was no closeness, no one I could talk to.

    I tried to find help. I downloaded mental health apps, desperate for someone, anyone, to talk to. Every single one wanted money: subscriptions, fees, payments I couldn’t afford. I stared at those payment screens feeling like I was drowning, watching help float just out of reach.

    That’s when the screen became my only escape. It started two years earlier, in Primary 6, when house workers casually showed me explicit images on their phones. I was just a child; curious, confused, not understanding what I was seeing. Then it continued at school with friends, and something awakened in me that I didn’t know how to name or control.

    Now, alone and depressed, pornography became my refuge. Not because it made me happy, but because for a few minutes, it made me feel something other than suffocating sadness. It was free. It was always available. And unlike everyone in my life, it didn’t judge me.

    A cycle begins

    I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be addicted. At first, it felt harmless, a way to escape. I told myself, It’s just this once. I’m in control. But addiction is a liar. Soon, it wasn’t me making the choices, the choices were making me.

    I became a professional actor: smiling, joking, saying “I’m fine.” Inside, I was drowning. Mornings brought disgust and broken promises. “This is the last time,” I would whisper. By evening, I was back in the same cycle.

    Being a Christian made it worse. How could I worship on Sunday and fall back into the same pit during the week? I carried my Bible with trembling hands, wondering: Does God still want me? Is He tired of forgiving me?

    What made everything harder was the silence; not just mine, but from my entire community.

    In many African homes, conversations about struggles don’t happen. Children are raised to “be strong,” “obey,” and “not bring shame.” So, when addiction creeps in, we already know: I can’t tell my parents because we know the response is often punishment and disappointment rather than compassion and feeling secure.

    The things we don’t discuss

    My family was no different. We shared meals, went to church together. But I couldn’t tell them about the depression that made me want to die, or the addiction consuming me. Not because they were cruel, but because we’d never learned how to talk about things that hurt.

    In many communities, struggles like pornography are labeled as spiritual weakness rather than human pain. Youth are told to “pray harder” while root wounds remain untouched. Girls especially face pressure to be “good daughters” because any confession can bring family shame.

    After my expulsion, I carried not just my own shame, but my family’s disappointment, the fear of being labeled a failure, the burden of disgrace.

    Addiction thrives in that silence. It feeds on fear; fear of punishment, of shame, of losing respect. So, we hide behind grades, church attendance, fake smiles. Inside, we are prisoners.

    For Christians struggling with addiction, the battle isn’t linear. One day you pray and feel close to God; the next, guilt crashes down. You confess, repent, hope but relapse comes again. I can’t get free. I’m weak. I keep failing.

    Faith meets struggle.

    Each fall reinforces the lie that you’re beyond redemption. You watch others grow in faith and compare your hidden failures to their visible victories. The church can make this harder. Fear of gossip or rejection stops you from seeking support. If they knew, would they still respect me?

    I struggled with this constantly. Sundays brought worship and hope. By Tuesday, I’d be back in the cycle, convinced I’d disappointed God one too many times. Everyone seemed to have faith figured out while I failed again and again.

    It’s strange having a full contact list but feeling completely alone. People assume you’re fine. “You’re always smiling,” they say. That image becomes a trap. If you break the mask, they might judge.

    The worst I’ve discovered is that the more people around you, the lonelier you feel. Addiction thrives in isolation. Your mind becomes a battlefield of self-condemnation and guilt. You wonder if anyone could love you as you are not as the image you show.

    When you reach out, friends often laugh it off or assume you’re exaggerating. Each failed attempt reinforces that isolation is safer than vulnerability. Trust issues build. You question whether anyone can handle your truth.

    Small steps forward 

    I haven’t stopped struggling. But I’ve discovered steps that help me keep moving forward. God’s presence never left me, even when I couldn’t feel it. Even in the darkest moments, there was a whisper: You are not finished. I’m still here.

    I’ve learned to pray honestly. One night I prayed: “God, I’m tired. I failed again.” That messy prayer brought relief. God doesn’t need eloquence, He wants honesty.

    Scripture became my anchor: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). These words remind me that weakness doesn’t disqualify me.

    I’ve sought godly friendship. Sharing my struggle with a mentor brought prayer, guidance, and relief I hadn’t felt in years. Accountability isn’t about judgment; it’s about having allies who speak truth when you’re too weary.

    I celebrate small wins: resisting harmful content one morning, admitting a relapse to a friend, choosing honesty over shame. These moments prove God is working, even if change feels slow.

    Most importantly, I keep returning to God. After rough weeks, I kneel and whisper, “I’m here again, God,” and find quiet peace. The journey isn’t linear, but persistent return is how healing begins.

    Lessons and hope 

    Silence makes struggle worse; speaking lifts the burden. Faith doesn’t remove struggle, but gives hope and a path forward. Vulnerability is strength. Grace works in the mess. Small wins matter.

    If you feel trapped by addiction, shame or loneliness: you are not alone, and your story isn’t finished. God sees every hidden struggle, every tear, every relapse, every moment you’ve smiled while breaking inside. His love is stronger than any fear or guilt you carry.

    Change may be slow. You may stumble again. But every honest step toward God, every whispered prayer, every confession is victory. The times you felt weakest may be when God was shaping your heart for strength.

    Do not be discouraged by setbacks. Healing is a process. God’s timing is perfect, his grace persistent. You are not defined by your struggles; you’re defined by the God who pursues you relentlessly and turns brokenness into testimony.

    To my fellow young Africans carrying battles in silence: I see you. Your pain is real. The silence in your home is real. But so is God’s grace, the possibility of healing, and the chance that your story could be the hope someone else needs.

    I am still on this journey. There are days when old habits call, when depression threatens, when I feel eight years of struggle. But I’m learning that every day I turn back to God, I choose life over death, hope over despair, truth over silence.

    Remember: hope is not passive. It’s a daily choice to trust that God sees you, values you and has a purpose for you. Your story is not over. It is still being written, and your struggles are chapters, not the conclusion. Break the silence. Reach out. Trust that there is grace enough for every fall, love enough for every shame and hope enough for every tomorrow.

    You are not alone.

    Questions to consider:

    1. Why might someone turn to media, like pornography, as a way to escape depression or loneliness?

    2. Why do you think media addiction is so difficult to break from?

    3. If you knew of someone with an addiction, how might you help them free themselves from it?

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  • Can the world’s largest democracy accept all faiths?

    Can the world’s largest democracy accept all faiths?

    Sidra Khan is a young Muslim woman in India who aspires to be a lawyer. Since early childhood, she has valued and respected Islam, the religion she was born into. But her headscarf now meets eagle eyes when she travels on public transport or tries to make a point during college lectures. 

    She feels that anti-Muslim rhetoric in India is causing her peers to judge her on the basis of religion and not merit. This, many Muslim students like Khan feel, is a casualty of having the government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi rule India.

    Over the last decade, the government of this secular country long considered the world’s largest democracy has introduced religious-based laws and politicians have incited anger and hatred against those who aren’t Hindu through rhetoric in speeches and AI campaigns. In northeast India’s Assam state, Wajid Alam, a college history student, watched a new election video from the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party with unease.

    An AI generated video shared by BJP’s official social media handles suggested that if the BJP loses power, Assam would be overrun by Muslims. It used AI-generated imagery to depict Muslims in hijabs and skull caps allegedly taking over airports, stadiums, tea gardens and other public spaces.

    It concluded with a message claiming Muslims could grow to 90% of Assam’s population, provoking other religious groups to choose the BJP to get rid of Muslims.

    The politics of religion

    For Alam and millions of Muslims in Assam, the video felt like an attack. And it is not the first time the BJP has been accused of demonizing religious minorities. Under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, India — a country founded on principles of secularism and religious freedom — has seen growing hostility toward Muslims and Christians.

    Some 200 million people in India practice the Muslim faith, making it the world’s third largest population of Muslims.

    Modi became India’s 14th prime minister in May 2014. Not long after, reports of attacks on religious minorities began to climb. In June 2014, Mohsin Shaikh, a young Muslim IT worker in Pune, was beaten to death by Hindu extremists — the first of several lynchings that followed. 

    A year later, in 2015, a Hindu mob in Dadri, Uttar Pradesh, killed Mohammad Akhlaq on suspicion of eating beef — considered a serious offense in the Hindu religion. That made global headlines and signalled the rise of cow-protection vigilantism. 

    By 2016–17, assaults on Muslims accused of trading or transporting cattle spread across northern India, with cases like the lynching of dairy farmer Pehlu Khan in Rajasthan. Christians, too, came under pressure during this period: nationalist groups staged forced reconversion campaigns, disrupted prayer meetings, vandalized churches and invoked new anti-conversion laws to arrest pastors and worshippers.

    Muslims under Modi’s rule

    Together, these incidents marked the early years of the Modi era as a turning point, when both Muslims and Christians began to face growing hostility in daily life.

    At the same time, hostile rhetoric against minorities became increasingly common in election campaigns. BJP leaders and affiliated Hindu nationalist groups framed Muslims as “outsiders” or “invaders,” with speeches warning of demographic “takeovers” or linking entire communities to terrorism and cow slaughter.

    Christians were accused of running covert “conversion factories,” with pastors painted as threats to India’s cultural identity. These narratives — echoed at rallies, on television debates and, more recently, through AI-generated propaganda — blurred the line between campaign messaging and hate speech. For many analysts, this marked a shift: politics was no longer just influenced by religion, but actively weaponizing it to polarize voters.

    These speeches were not isolated slips but part of a larger pattern. Muslims were painted as “infiltrators,” “termites” or participants in a supposed “love jihad” plot to convert Hindu women, while Christians were accused of running “conversion factories” and threatening India’s culture.

    Senior BJP figures, including party president Amit Shah and Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath, used such language at rallies to mobilize support. Over time, this messaging blurred into mainstream political discourse, normalizing suspicion and hostility toward entire communities.

    Political divisions

    India’s experience is part of a wider global pattern. Around the world, political movements are blending nationalism and religion to define who “belongs.” A recent Pew Research Center study found that while the United States ranks lower than many countries on overall religious nationalism, it stands out among wealthy democracies for how many adults say the Bible should influence national laws or that being Christian is essential to being truly American.

    In the United States, debates over Christian nationalism have become a powerful current within the Republican Party and Donald Trump’s political rhetoric.

    Trump and allied evangelical leaders increasingly frame America as a “Christian nation,” a message that blurs the line between faith and state power. Commentators warn that this effort to link patriotism with religion mirrors broader global trends — from India to Israel to Turkey — where religious identity is being harnessed for political gain.

    Both the U.S. and Indian constitutions enshrine secularism, which is the idea that the state would keep equal distance from all religions. In India’s case, that principle mattered in a country where Hindus form the majority but millions of Muslims, Christians, Sikhs and Buddhists also call the nation home. 

    A history of strife

    Even before Modi, religion and politics were sometimes entwined: the Congress Party drew on Hindu symbolism, the 1984 anti-Sikh riots scarred the country and the destruction of the Babri mosque in 1992 shook faith in secularism. Still, the political consensus was that India was not to be defined by one faith.

    “But a lot has changed under Modi and the BJP,” said Sneha Lal, a Hindu student studying to become a primary school teacher. “We did not grow up in this India.”

    Lal is bothered by some of the BJP’s tactics that have promoted anti-conversion laws in several states, laws often used against Christians and Muslims accused of proselytizing. 

    In 2019, the Citizenship Amendment Act introduced fast-track citizenship for non-Muslim refugees, a move widely criticized as discriminatory toward Muslims. That same year, Delhi revoked the autonomy of Jammu and Kashmir, India’s only Muslim-majority state. Alongside these legal changes, election campaigns have increasingly featured polarizing rhetoric, and propaganda — including AI-generated videos — has circulated warning of demographic “takeovers.” 

    Critics say these policies and messages together mark a break from India’s founding secular vision, pushing the country toward a Hindu-first identity.

    Can there be a unified national identity?

    Seema Chishti, a senior journalist who has witnessed India’s journey from secular to right-wing, said that mixing religion with politics and diluting India’s unified national identity across religious and ethnic groups is a stated core principle of the ruling party, based on its militant roots. 

    “The Indian Constitution recognises no barriers to being Indian, i.e. nationality is not contingent on faith, caste, region, creed, gender or political views,” Chishti said. “BJP has loudly proclaimed ‘Hindu-India’ and instilled ‘Hindu’ nationalism in politics, education, the armed forces and every other facet of Indian life.”

    An example of Modi’s attempt to link Indian-ness with Hinduism is the Citizenship Amendment Act of 2019 which fast-tracks Indian citizenship for non-Muslims from three neighbours: Pakistan, Bangladesh and Afghanistan. “This action echoes ideas of India being a Hindu homeland,” Chishti said.

    On 15 August 2025, on India’s 79th Independence Day, Modi addressed crowds gathered at Delhi’s historical Red Fort, as he did the last 11 years that he has been in power. 

    On a day which commemorates India’s long struggle for self-rule that culminated in self-governance and independence from the British empire, Modi referred to the right-wing paramilitary organization Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh or RSS as a philanthropic organization. RSS has espoused an India for Hindus only. 

    Intolerance and violence

    All this has had tragic consequences. On 25 September, a seven-year-old Muslim boy was abducted from his neighborhood and brutally murdered in northern India’s Azamgarh. 

    But religious hate crimes haven’t only targeted Muslims. On 11 June, a mob allegedly linked to Hindu extremist groups attacked guests at a Christian wedding and set fire to a utility vehicle. And on 25 July, two Catholic nuns were arrested in central India’s Chhattisgarh state following a complaint by a member of an extremist Hindu group.

    India’s United Christian Forum reported that in 2024, Christians across the country witnessed 834 such incidents, up 100 incidents from 734 in 2023 — that comes out to more than two Christians being targeted every day in India simply for practising their faith. 

    These incidents of attacks and even public hate speeches against Christians are not limited to vandalism, they extend to physical assaults, disruption of prayer gatherings, financial boycotts and even motivated arrests. 

    This anti-Christian sentiment has been fanned by Hindu extremist groups in the country, which are indirectly and sometimes directly backed by the ruling BJP and other Hindu nationalist groups. These groups are increasingly using anti-conversion laws created in the Modi era to harass Christians. 

    Christians in India

    Arun Pannalal, president of the Chhattisgarh Christian Forum, said that two things are happening: Lawlessness of mobs who target Christians is ignored by police, while Christians often find themselves subject to seemingly random arrests. 

    “On random calls by Bajrang Dal goons the Police arrested the nuns, without evidence of anything,” Pannalal said. “But when the nuns wanted to complain against the goons, it was not lodged.”

    Chishti said that more than politicising religion, by inserting religion into politics, the BJP is trying to portray itself as the only ‘Hindu’ party and the others consequently as not. She maintains that the BJP has fought elections on issues that polarise Indians, divide them and not on its performance or electoral record. Its electoral dominance has also meant that other parties in the fray, the opposition too find themselves playing on the BJP’s turf. 

    “The BJP has done its best to make the political discourse about faith, symbols of religion — Hindu and Muslim — and portraying themselves as saviours of the Hindu faith and righting so-called historical wrongs,” Chishti said.

    As a result, the media focuses on the religious conflicts, instead of other pressing issues, such as the economic well-being of people, the public health or education systems, joblessness and inflation, Chishti said.

    As India heads toward future elections, the blending of religion and politics raises questions not just for its own democracy but for others around the world. For young people in India, the stakes are immediate: whether their country remains true to its founding promise of secularism and equal rights.

    But for readers everywhere, India’s story is part of a larger global trend from the United States to Turkey to Israel, where religion and nationalism intertwine to shape politics. Understanding how these forces play out in the world’s largest democracy can help us make sense of how faith and power continue to influence politics across the globe.

    India’s struggle shows that when religion becomes a political weapon, democracy itself can become the battleground.

    Questions to consider:

    1. How is freedom of religion protected in India?

    2. In what ways are Muslims being treated differently by the Modi administration?

    3. In what ways to you feel comfortable or uncomfortable in your community expressing your faith?

     

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  • Religion and politics aren’t supposed to mix

    Religion and politics aren’t supposed to mix

    Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky says religion was one topic his family never mentioned at the dinner table.

    That could be because he’s from the Jewish minority, or because the overwhelming Orthodox Christian majority was split into different branches.

    Ukraine’s Orthodox have gradually become more Ukrainian, to the detriment of a once-powerful pro-Russian Church, and the trend has sped up now that Kyiv and Moscow are at war.

    The conflict between the pro-Kyiv Orthodox Church of Ukraine (OCU) and the pro-Moscow Ukrainian Orthodox Church (UOC) gets lost in the international coverage of the drama on the battlefield.

    But with about 80% of Ukrainians identifying as Orthodox Christians, even if probably less than half attend church regularly, this split between the two Churches seeps into politics.

    Christmas in Kyiv

    The religious conflict crept into the news last month when the pro-Kyiv Church authorized all Ukrainian parishes to celebrate Christmas on December 25 if they wished, rather than the traditional Orthodox date of January 7.

    The symbolism of allowing Christmas to be celebrated on the date used in the West was not lost on Ukrainian believers.

    The roots to this clash go back to the communist period. While Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union, it was under the umbrella of the Russian Orthodox Church.

    When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church continued to operate in the newly sovereign Ukraine, but proclaimed its loyalty to the Moscow Patriarchate.

    Ukrainian patriots objected and said they deserved their own Church. Their rival Orthodox Church of Ukraine was created in 1992, soon after Ukraine’s independence. It was recognized as autocephalous (independent) by the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul — the highest authority in Orthodox Christianity — in 2019.

    The politics of praying in Ukrainian

    The two Churches have the same theology, liturgy and even architecture as the Moscow Church. But the Kyiv Church prays in Ukrainian rather than Church Slavonic and declares allegiance to Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew in Istanbul instead of Moscow’s Patriarch Kirill.

    Originally much larger, the Moscow Church saw parishes defecting to its rival, especially after the war began. Under this pressure, the Ukrainian branch declared its independence from Russia in May, condemned the invasion and refused to recognize Patriarch Kirill in its liturgies.

    It’s unclear now which Church is larger. But the head of the Kyiv Patriarchate, Metropolitan Epiphinius, told Religion News Service in May: “Every day, Ukrainians are gradually coming to understand which Church is truly Ukrainian and which Church is Russian.”

    The Moscow Patriarchate tried to shield off Russian-occupied Crimea by creating its own metropolitanate (archdiocese) there in June. The Kyiv Church refused to recognize this.

    When Putin annexed four Ukrainian territories in September — even though he did not completely control them — he tried to justify the move in religious terms, calling it a “glorious spiritual choice.”

    Sermons, spies and the Security Service

    But Kyiv increasingly saw the pro-Moscow Church as a fifth column, or spies of Putin. In October, the acting head of Ukraine’s Security Service revealed it had found 33 suspected Russian agents among the Moscow Church’s clergy in Ukraine.

    Some preached pro-Russian sermons, Kyiv said, some had anti-Ukrainian literature and some were army chaplains who passed on information about Ukrainian artillery batteries to Russian agents.

    That’s when the Kyiv Church authorized all Ukrainian parishes to celebrate Christmas on December 25 if they wished. On December 1, Zelensky upped the ante by calling for an official ban on all activities of the Moscow Patriarchate’s Church in Ukraine. Parliament was asked to draft a suitable law, which may be difficult given the provision in the Ukrainian constitution of freedom of religion.

    In late December, Ukraine refused to renew the Moscow Church’s lease on the Cathedral of the Dormition at Kyiv’s Monastery of the Caves, traditionally the center of Ukrainian Orthodoxy.

    On January 7, Metropolitan Epiphanius, head of the pro-Kyiv Church, celebrated the traditional Christmas there to show he was the new man in charge now.

    And in its latest turn to faith, Russia called for a 36-hour truce to mark the traditional Christmas on January 7. Kyiv and its western allies rejected this as a cynical ploy, and both sides continued shelling each other as if nothing had happened.

    The battlefield struggle is still the main story, both in its ultimate importance and in the David-and-Goliath story that readers understand. The religious rivalry will always be secondary.

    But these pinpricks on the faith front add up to a new phase in the growth of local nationalism, which helps buoy Ukrainian morale. In hoping to defeat a country he thought would easily give in, Putin has done more than anyone to forge a united and defiant Ukrainian nation.

     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. Why do politicians often appeal to religion during a war?

    2. Do mainstream journalists make religious angles clear in a conflict?

    3. When do separate small events add up to a noteworthy trend?

     

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  • Can your religion put your nationality at risk?

    Can your religion put your nationality at risk?

    Standing on the charred remains of his hut in a village near Assam’s Morigaon district in South India, Shafik Ahmed clutched a worn folder of papers: land deeds, ration cards and a laminated voter ID, all declaring the 68-year-old bicycle repairman an Indian citizen.

    None of it mattered when bulldozers rolled into his neighbourhood in June 2025, demolishing 17 homes, all belonging to Bengali-speaking Muslims.

    “I was born here, voted here, paid taxes here,” Ahmed said. “Still, they told me I am a foreigner. They dumped us near the border like we are cattle.”

    Ahmed is among the hundreds of Muslims who say they were pushed across India’s eastern border into Bangladesh in recent months, as part of what human rights lawyers say is a rapidly intensifying campaign of ethnic targeting in Assam, a region famous across the world for the quality of tea it produces. 

    The drive has escalated in the run-up to the 2026 state elections, with Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma branding undocumented Muslims as “infiltrators” and vowing to “protect the culture of Assam.”

    Islamophobia is a global concern.

    The expulsions, many executed without due legal process, have sparked concern far beyond India’s borders. As the United Nations warns of a global surge in anti-Muslim bigotry, activists say Assam’s campaign fits a broader pattern of Islamophobia playing out across continents.

    “They call it pushback,” Ahmed said. “We call it expulsion.”

    Across Assam, particularly in Muslim-majority districts like Dhubri, Barpeta and Goalpara, families wake up to midnight police knocks, arbitrary detentions and the looming threat of forced deportation.

    Rubina Khatun, 53, said she was taken without explanation from her home In May 2025, driven 200km to the Matia detention centre and later left in the no-man’s land near the India-Bangladesh border along with other women and children.

    “The soldiers shouted at us: ‘You’re not Indian anymore. Go to your country’,” she said. “But I have never been to Bangladesh. We spent hours in the swamp. No food, no water. It felt like we were being erased.”

    Applying old laws to new intolerance

    Human rights lawyer Hameed Laskar, who represents several families appealing the orders by the Foreigners Tribunals, says the government is misusing a 1950 law meant for undocumented immigrants.

    “These people have lived in Assam for generations,” Laskar said. “Some even appear on the National Register of Citizens. But a misspelled name or a missing land receipt from 1970 is enough to be declared a foreigner. It’s not legal enforcement. It’s engineered exclusion.”

    The targeting of Muslims in Assam is not new. But since the conservative Bharatiya Janata Party came to power in India in 2014, the rhetoric has hardened and the policies have sharpened.

    In 2019, the national registry process excluded nearly 2 million people, most of them Muslims. That has left families in limbo. While Hindus excluded from the list can claim citizenship under India’s 2019 Citizenship Amendment Act, there is no such provision for Muslims.

    The wife of Parvez Alam, a schoolteacher in the city of Barpeta, Aswas recently declared a foreigner despite having a birth certificate and electoral record.

    “Muslims now need 20 documents to prove their Indian-ness. Hindus only need to declare it,” Alam said. 

    Ping-ponging people across borders

    According to a June statement from Chief Minister Sarma in the state assembly, more than 300 “illegal Bangladeshis” have been expelled since May. Local media and community groups put the number closer to 500, including at least 120 women.

    But the Bangladeshi government has rejected many of these returnees, saying they have no proof of origin. Several have been stranded in border areas, caught in a bureaucratic tug-of-war.

    In one incident that drew widespread attention, 60-year-old Salim Uddin, a retired truck driver from Golaghat, was found wandering along the India-Bangladesh border after his family saw a viral video showing him being handed over to Bangladesh’s border guards.

    His son, Rashid, later confirmed that Uddin had served in the Assam Police for nearly three decades.

    “How can the son of a state police officer be declared Bangladeshi?” Rashid asked. “Had my grandfather been alive, it would have broken his heart.”

    A pattern of prejudice

    The Assam government has denied that the crackdown is communal, insisting it targets only “illegal foreigners.” But the pattern tells a different story. A recent report by a coalition of civil society groups found that over 95% of those detained or expelled this year were Bengali-speaking Muslims.

    The fear gripping Assam’s Muslims mirrors rising Islamophobia globally. From bans on hijabs in French schools to mosque attacks in the United Kingdom, Muslims across continents are facing what the United Nations calls a “widening wave of intolerance.”

    On March 15, UN Secretary-General António Guterres marked the International Day to Combat Islamophobia by warning of a disturbing rise in anti-Muslim bigotry. “This is part of a wider scourge of extremist ideologies and attacks on religious groups,” Guterres said in a video address. “Governments must foster social cohesion and protect religious freedom.”

    He called on online platforms to curb hate speech, and on leaders to avoid rhetoric that demonizes communities. Muslim civil rights groups in Europe and North America have echoed those concerns.

    A spread of intolerance across the globe

    A recent report by the Council on American-Islamic Relations documented a record 8,658 anti-Muslim incidents in 2024 alone.

    In the UK, advocacy group Tell MAMA has reported a 30% increase in Islamophobic hate crimes since October 2023, including attacks on mosques, verbal abuse and discrimination in housing and employment.

    Dr. Arshiya Khan, a political sociologist based in London, said these patterns are not isolated. “They’re interlinked,” Khan said. “What starts as state policy in one country often emboldens vigilante behaviour in others.”

    In Assam’s tea belt, the fear is palpable. In several villages, Muslim residents say they have stopped going to police stations or even hospitals, afraid they might be detained. In one case, a 27-year-old man who went to register a land dispute at a local police station was declared a foreigner after a routine ID check.

    “We don’t know who is next,” said Shahina Begum, a mother of three. “They say we don’t belong here. But where do we go?”

    Fighting back

    At least four petitions have been filed in the Assam High Court since June by families who say their relatives disappeared after being taken by police. Most had no ongoing legal cases against them.

    “They’re being disappeared without a trace,” said Laskar. “This is not law enforcement, it’s ethnic cleansing in slow motion.”

    Back in Morigaon, Shafik Ahmed said he has no plans to leave, even as bulldozers return to neighbouring villages.

    “This land is all I know. If they push me out again, I’ll come back again,” he said, eyes fixed on the debris of his former home.

    But for those like Rubina Khatun the trauma is lasting. “We’re citizens,” she said. “We have documents. We were born here. But in their eyes, we will never be Indian enough.”

    As global attention briefly turns to Assam, with international bodies urging India to uphold human rights, residents say they don’t expect justice, only survival.

    “Every day we live feels like another test to prove we exist,” Ahmed said.

     

    Questions to consider

    1. Why do Muslim citizens of Assam India believe that their government treats them differently than non-Muslims? 

    2. Should religion be a factor in determining whether someone should get national citizenship?

    3. Should a government be concerned about the religions of its citizens? 

     

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  • When the government tells you that you cannot pray

    When the government tells you that you cannot pray

    When Abdul Kadeer returned from Saudi Arabia in last month to celebrate the Muslim festival of Eid-ul-Fitr with his family in Meerut, a city northeast of New Delhi in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, the 32-year-old found himself gripped by fear. The local administration had announced tough restrictions on Eid-ul-Fitr prayers for Muslims. 

    Eid-ul-Fitr is one of two major holidays celebrated by Muslims and commemorates the end of the holy month of Ramadan, in which Muslims fast daily from before dawn until sunset.

    Because mosques and designated grounds for prayers, known as Eidgahs, have insufficient space to accommodate the large number of worshippers during these holidays people often stop on roadsides to offer prayers. 

    But just days before the festival, Meerut police announced that offering prayers on roads and other public places could lead to passport cancellations. 

    “I came home to celebrate with my family, but now we are living in fear,” Kadeer says. “Why is it that when we pray, it becomes a problem, but during other festivals, roads are blocked and nothing happens?”

    Jamia Masjid Srinagar closed for Eid prayers in Kashmir. (Photo by Sajad Hameed)

    A minority religion

    For Kadeer, losing his passport would cost him his job.

    “I work in Saudi Arabia to support my family here,” he said. “Why are we being targeted for a prayer that lasts barely 20 minutes?”

    The state of Uttar Pradesh has a predominantly Hindu population, with Hindus comprising around 80% of the total population, while Muslims make up approximately 19%.

    Across Meerut, sentiments like Kadeer’s resonate deeply. Many Muslims in the city ask why they face restrictions when Hindu festivals frequently involve processions on public roads without similar consequences.

    “Why is it that only during Eid, roads become a law-and-order issue?” questions a shopkeeper in the city’s old quarter. “During Holi or Diwali, no one is threatened with legal action.”

    Holi and Diwali are major Hindu festivals celebrated with their own distinct rituals rooted in mythology, seasonal change and spiritual themes. Holi celebrates spring with colors, water fights and sweets, symbolizing good over evil. Diwali, the festival of lights, involves lamps, fireworks and sharing food, marking prosperity and the return of the Hindu god Rama.

    When the Indian government restricts public prayer during Muslim festivals like Eid-ul-Fitr it says it does so to maintain public order and prevent communal tensions. Authorities may cite concerns about large gatherings in public spaces causing traffic disruptions, noise pollution or potential clashes, especially in areas with a history of religious friction. 

    Tensions peaked on 31 March, for example, when violence erupted after the Eid prayer in Siwalkhas, a town northeast of New Delhi. According to police, members of two groups clashed, with reports of gunfire. Security forces quickly intervened, dispersing the crowds, but not before more than six Muslims were injured.

    A double standard?

    The restrictions on prayer have sparked national debate. Popular comedian Munawar Faruqui criticised the decision on social media, questioning why a short prayer was being singled out. But Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath defended the measure, citing the Maha Kumbh in Prayagraj as an example of religious discipline. 

    “[Six hundred and sixty million] people attended the Maha Kumbh without any incidents of violence, harassment or disorder. Roads are meant for walking,” he said, suggesting that Muslims should learn from Hindu festival gatherings. 

    Nasir Qureshi, 47, of Bijnor, said that even before Eid, they were warned not to gather in large numbers for prayers. “But when Hindus celebrate their festivals, there are no such restrictions,” he said “Why is there one rule for us and another for them?”

    The directive has drawn criticism not only from opposition parties but also from within the allies of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party or BJP.

    Iqra Hasan, a member of parliament for the socialist Samajwadi Party, questioned the intent behind the restrictions while Chirag Paswan, a BJP ally, called for a focus on broader issues rather than communal divisions. And Union Minister Chaudhary Jayant Singh compared the crackdown to authoritarian measures described in George Orwell’s book “1984”.

    Opponents to restrictions argue that the Hajj in Mecca, with 2–3 million Muslims praying peacefully, shows that large Muslim gatherings can be managed safely, like the Maha Kumbh’s 400 million Hindus. With proper planning, India could allow Eid prayers fairly, avoiding bias.

    Police and worshippers

    In Meerut, protests took shape in subtle ways. Some worshippers displayed posters stating, “It’s not just Muslims who pray on roads.” The banners listed instances of Hindus and others conducting religious activities on public streets.

    Authorities forcibly removed the posters, leading to further tensions. Among the congregation, expressions of solidarity with Palestine were visible, with worshippers seen holding “Free Palestine” placards and some donning traditional Palestinian attire.

    Mohammed Saeed, 29, a resident of Meerut, said that the police didn’t let them complete their prayers. “They stormed in, shouting at us to leave, and when people protested, they started hitting us,” Saeed said. “Even elderly men were pushed around.”

    Police have registered cases against those raising Palestine-related issues in previous instances, making this a sensitive act of defiance. Beyond Meerut, other decisions have added to the sense of alienation. In Haryana, the state government removed Eid from its list of gazetted holidays, relegating it to a restricted holiday status. This means government offices will remain open on Eid and employees —Hindus or Muslims — must request leave if they wish to observe it.

    Asaduddin Owaisi, an member of parliament from Hyderabad and chief of the right-wing political party All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen, said that these kind of decisions are a direct attack on Muslim minorities in the country. 

    He also said that earlier last year the central government ordered a survey of the Jamia Masjid in Uttar Pradesh, a 500-year-old mosque that is part of a UNESCO World Heritage site. It turned into violence with five people killed and 30 injured. 

    “Hundreds were detained only to deny the survey,” Owaisis said. “These decisions will increase the hate in the communities nothing else.”

    Religious clashes elsewhere

    While India sees frequent communal flashpoints between Hindus and Muslims, other South Asian nations have also witnessed religious tensions manifesting in different ways.

    In Pakistan, religious minorities, particularly Hindus and Christians, have often faced restrictions on their religious practices, though state-imposed bans on mass religious gatherings have been rare.

    In Bangladesh, political conflicts sometimes intertwine with religious identity, leading to incidents of violence during Hindu Durga Puja celebrations. Sri Lanka has seen its own set of religious tensions, with growing restrictions on Muslim practices such as a ban on the niqab — a face veil worn by women — following the 2019 Easter bombings when 269 people were killed in six suicide bombings in churches and hotels. 

    In Kashmir, meanwhile, the state’s approach to religious gatherings has taken a different but equally restrictive form. On 31 March, as Muslims worldwide prepared for Eid-ul-Fitr, authorities in Srinagar locked down the historic Jamia Masjid, preventing worshippers from offering prayers there.

    The region’s chief cleric, Mirwaiz Umar Farooq, was placed under house arrest, a move he strongly condemned.

    “When huge claims of ‘normalcy’ are made every day by the authorities, why are Muslims in Kashmir being kept away from their religious places and practices?” Mirwaiz said in a statement. “What is the agenda? Is the collective identity of Kashmiri Muslims a threat to the rulers?”

    The Jamia Masjid closure follows a pattern seen in recent years, where authorities have restricted access to religious sites on key Islamic occasions, citing security concerns.

    Earlier in March, the mosque was locked for Shab-e-Qadr and Jummat-ul-Vida prayers, triggering strong reactions from opposition parties in Kashmir.

    Darakhshan Andrabi, who is a senior BJP leader and chairs the Jammu and Kashmir Wakf Board, a body that controls the use of religious and charitable properties, justified the decision, stating that Eid prayers could not be held at Eidgah grounds due to ongoing construction work. However, many local residents and religious leaders see such restrictions as politically motivated and part of broader efforts to control religious expression in the region.

     

    Questions to consider: 

    1. What is Eid-ul-Fitr?

    2. What is a rationale the Indian government has to restrict public prayer during Muslim festivals?

    3. Do you think that the government should be able to regulate religion? Why?

     

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  • Will the Vatican find its next pope in an unlikely place?

    Will the Vatican find its next pope in an unlikely place?

    If you’ve seen the award-winning film “Conclave”, you now know how exciting it can be when Catholicism’s cardinals gather behind closed doors to elect a new pope. The declining health in Pope Francis, 88, means another conclave is coming sooner rather than later. 

    So who is likely to win? The truth is — we have no idea. 

    What are the issues the world’s 1.3 billion Catholics would like the next head of their worldwide Church to tackle? We don’t know that for certain either. 

    In his 12 years as pope, Francis has so scrambled the Church and the traditional paths toward becoming its leader that the conclave — already the strangest election you’ll never see — is even harder than ever to predict. 

    With the 120 cardinal electors so unsure, unforeseen events like a stirring speech behind closed doors can produce big changes. That’s how Buenos Aires Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio became Pope Francis back in 2013. 

    Don’t trust the early bets.

    Another lesson from recent conclaves is to be very wary of any lists of leading candidates. They are not based on opinion polls or popularity contests like forecasts before political elections. 

    They are in fact little more than educated guesses by journalists and bookmakers, and can be laughingly far off the mark. 

    Many lists prior to the 2005 conclave named Milan Cardinal Dionigi Tettamanzi as a leading candidate; he reportedly got only two votes. In 2013, the pro-conclave lists of papabili — potential popes — did not even mention the eventual winner. 

    But readers always want to know what will happen, and the final result we can’t predict. Since this will be the third conclave I’ve either covered or commented on, let me at least say what to expect.

    First of all, if you want, go see the film “Conclave” — at best before we learn if it has won any Oscars. Sure, the film is tenser and more action-packed than a real conclave, and its ending seems improbable. Due to timing limits, the leading characters are painted with a rather cartoonish brush. There are some small mistakes.

    But this is entertainment, not a documentary. It is beautifully filmed. It gives an idea of the predictable ritual and possible mishaps that could influence the outcome. It’s worth seeing even if not totally believing.

    Politicking for popedom

    As the film shows, hopeful candidates drum up support without publicly declaring their candidacy. Open campaigning is out but supporters eagerly swap information about favorites and opponents. 

    Speeches about the Church during the closed-door “general congregations” meeting the week before the conclave become veiled campaign pitches for the ambitious.

    Once they enter the Sistine Chapel for the conclave, the cardinals are cut off from the outside world and sworn to secrecy. This lasts for a few days of voting — a two-thirds majority is needed — until white smoke goes up from the chapel’s chimney and the new pope appears in public for the first time on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica next door.

    What makes this conclave even more unpredictable than earlier ones is that Pope Francis has often overlooked traditional cardinal’s seats in Europe to give red hats to lesser-known and more pastorally-minded bishops from his beloved “peripheries.”

    There are now cardinals in unlikely places such as Yangon, Ulaanbaatar, Algiers and Tehran, representing minuscule communities of Catholics. It’s hard to say what these prelates think or how they will vote.

    A new pope could mean a new direction.

    Pope Francis has appointed about 80 of the current cardinal electors out of 120, so the two-thirds majority needed for election should be there. But since so many of them are not known in Rome, it’s hard to say whether they want to continue his policies or take the Church in a different direction.

    After the 2013 conclave, several conservative Catholic groups — mostly in the United States — disapproved of Pope Francis’s more open style. They said cardinals did not have enough information before they voted him in, and vowed to publish detailed profiles of all prelates on the internet. 

    The College of Cardinals Report seems the furthest advanced, with profiles of 40 cardinals with their positions on key issues like abortion or woman priests. It is headed by Edward Pentin, a conservative Vatican watcher. 

    Another project, the Red Hat Report, began in 2018 with lots of publicity saying ex-FBI agents would do some of the research and freelancers would help edit cardinals’ Wikipedia pages. It also leans conservative but has not made much noise recently. 

    Their main candidate appears to be Budapest Cardinal Péter Erdő, who headed the Council of the Bishops’ Conferences of Europe from 2006 to 2016. 

    Considered close to Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, he seems not to share Pope Francis’s very welcoming views on migration but has hosted two visits by Pope Francis to Budapest.

    Power in the Global South

    Another conservative noticed is Kinshasa Cardinal Fridolin Ambongo Besungu, although the very traditional stances African prelates take turn off other cardinals. 

    Progressives mentioned include Bologna Cardinal Matteo Zuppi, head of the Italian Bishops Conference, and Curia Cardinal Luis Tagle, a Filipino once dubbed the “Asian Francis.” But it’s unclear whether a majority of cardinals wants an extension of the Francis years.

    There are also moderates such as two Italians — possibly too diplomatic Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the current Secretary of Stage (number two man at the Vatican), and Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem — as well as French Cardinal Jean-Marc Aveline, who shares Pope Francis’s interest in the Mediterranean and caring for its migrants.

    But with two-thirds of all Catholics now in the Global South, will the conclave return to the Italian and then European monopoly on the papacy after an Argentinian pope?

    There are far more questions than answers. We’ll only start to know the responses after the white smoke rises.

     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. Why was Pope Francis hailed as a rule-breaker when he was elected to head the Catholic Church in 2013?
    2. How does politics play out in the election of a new pope?
    3. If you were part of the next conclave what would you be looking for in the candidates for pope?

     

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