The question is asked not for clarity but for confrontation. Muslims are placed between two artificial choices: if they affirm constitutional values, their religious commitment is doubted; if they speak of Sharia, their patriotism is suspect.
Kafeel Qasmi
In recent weeks, television news studios across India have repeatedly confronted Muslim panellists and political representatives with a question posed with unusual intensity and manufactured urgency: What comes first- Sharia or the Constitution?
At first glance, the question appears to reflect intellectual curiosity. Yet its framing and presentation reveal something quite different. It is less an inquiry seeking understanding and more a carefully constructed provocation designed to generate confrontation rather than conversation.
The question is not asked to obtain clarity but to create spectacle, replacing research with performance and understanding with noise and sensationalism. Its real objective is neither to comprehend the ethical foundations of Sharia nor to illuminate the spirit of the Indian Constitution. Instead, it places the country’s second-largest community in a perpetual position of justification, subtly inviting suspicion toward either its religious identity or its national loyalty. That, ultimately, is both the direction and the destination of this debate.
A serious constitutional and religious examination, however, reveals not an inevitable conflict but a framework of balance and coexistence, a relationship that negates neither the Constitution nor Sharia.
The Indian Constitution explicitly guarantees religious freedom. Article 25 grants every citizen freedom of conscience and the right to profess, practice, and propagate religion, subject only to public order, morality, and health. These limitations are not directed at any single community; they apply equally to all faiths. The Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that the role of the state is not to confine religion to invisibility but to protect diverse beliefs within a constitutional framework.
When Sharia is understood through its primary sources and objectives, its core principles similarly emphasise justice, social harmony, discipline, fulfilment of obligations, and public welfare. The concern of Islamic law is not the religious identity of political authority but the ethical exercise of authority itself.
Within Islamic jurisprudence, many scholars have classified societies where Muslims enjoy religious freedom, security of life and property, and peaceful coexistence as Dar al-Aman or Dar al-Ahd — domains of peace and covenant. In such contexts, adherence to the laws of the land is considered a religious obligation, as it forms part of a social contract grounded in mutual trust. Islam treats the violation of agreements as a grave moral failing. The Qur’anic injunction, “O believers, fulfil your covenants,” has historically been understood by scholars as encompassing all forms of agreements — personal, social, and civic.
At the same time, if any law were to compel an individual toward manifest injustice or wrongdoing, democratic systems themselves provide avenues for peaceful and constitutional dissent. In a democracy like India, reform emerges not through confrontation or violence but through legal processes, ethical engagement, and dialogue. In plural societies, Muslim identity has historically been shaped by lawfulness, social responsibility, and moral commitment rather than conflict.
Despite this reality, the Constitution versus Sharia question has become a recurring fixture of prime-time debates. Through predictable scripts, aggressive moderation styles, and symbolic staging, discussions are transformed into theatrical clashes rather than platforms for knowledge. This appears less accidental than strategic — a media format that places Muslims between two artificial choices. If they affirm constitutional values, their religious commitment is questioned; if they speak of Sharia, their patriotism is cast under suspicion.
The problem deepens when emotionally driven or ill-prepared religious voices are drawn into such spectacles. They are rarely invited for serious legal or theological discussion; instead, they are framed in ways that reduce complex debates to slogans and outrage. The resulting perception, that Muslims stand in opposition to the Constitution, bears little resemblance to reality.
It is equally important to recognise that the Constitution is not a static document. It evolves through judicial interpretation and democratic discourse. Islamic legal tradition, too, possesses an internal dynamism, allowing interpretation across changing contexts while remaining anchored in foundational principles. Presenting these two living traditions as inherently incompatible is intellectually dishonest.
Indian Muslims do not inhabit a separate civilisation space. They are citizens of this republic, exercising rights and fulfilling duties under the same constitutional framework as all others. Repeatedly demanding proof of their loyalty ultimately weakens the inclusive spirit of the Constitution itself. Loyalty is not established in media trials; it is demonstrated through a community’s historical contributions, collective sacrifices, and sustained civic participation — realities well documented in India’s own history.
The need of the hour is for media institutions, intellectuals, religious leaders, and civil society to move this debate away from provocation toward informed dialogue and constitutional literacy. Sensationalism may deliver ratings, but it deepens mistrust and social division.
Constructing a narrative of conflict between the Constitution and Sharia is easy. India’s lived reality, however, tells a different story — one of coexistence, balance, and shared responsibility. Perhaps that is precisely the truth most often drowned out amid the noise of televised debate.
The writer is an Islamic scholar, columnist, political and academic strategist
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