How India’s Courts Became So Entangled With Religion
Article 25 of the Constitution of India states in its first section that “all persons are equally entitled to freedom of conscience and the right freely to profess, practice and propagate religion.” Yet the second section of the same article declares that not only can the state regulate the secular activities of religious practice, but it can also provide “for social welfare and reform” for Hindus.
This language was included in the constitution primarily to enshrine the goals of the Temple Entry Movement, in which Dalits (untouchables) sought entry into Hindu temples. Many upper caste Hindus felt that reform was necessary to maintain the vitality of Hinduism and prevent the segmentation of different caste groups.
But state intervention in religious affairs has moved beyond intervening to allow Dalits to enter temples. This constitutional language explains why India — particularly its courts — have developed an interventionist concept of religion. Judges, most of whom are not religious scholars or theologians, frequently take it upon themselves to weigh in on questions of religious practice and belief.
Additionally, because rights and privileges in India have become so bound up with collective identities, often determined by religion, the courts have become involved with interpretations of religious doctrine. A case decided in October 2026, The Secretary To Government vs Sameer Ahamed N. ruled that “a person who converts from a Hindu social order to a non-Hindu social order cannot claim affirmative action…. merely on the basis of the social backwardness associated with his pre-conversion status.” In order to determine how caste-based affirmative action intersects with religion, the court dedicated several paragraphs to exploring the theology of Islam, noting its belief in egalitarianism and citing the Quran and hadith: “Islam rests, in its foundational theological conception, upon the equality of human beings and does not make birth, lineage or descent the measure of human worth. The Holy Quran articulates this principle in clear terms in Surah Al-Hujurat, Ayah (49:13).”
By its nature, such a ruling cannot be confined merely to the administrative issue of affirmative action benefits. It touches upon theology, economics, and the logistics of whether one should convert to another religion or not.
This approach is quite different from those in other countries. For example, in the United States, the Supreme Court developed the “hands-off approach” to religion, which has “repeatedly declared that judges are precluded from making decisions that require evaluating and determining the substance of religious doctrine.”
In India, courts have become entangled with questions of religious doctrine and belief. Take, for instance, the statement of the Allahabad High Court in the case Vineet Vincent Pereira v State of UP that it was wrong for a Catholic priest to claim that Christianity is the only true religion, a statement that could invite criminal prosecution for insulting the religious beliefs of others. While one may morally or philosophically oppose such a claim, it is also a core Christian belief, an area not generally thought to be in a court’s competence.
The Indian courts have grappled with the issue of when and how to intervene in religious life for decades, often pleasing neither reformers nor traditionalists. Courts have weighed in on Muslim marriage customs, whether the hijab is essential to Islam, and whether women of menstruating ages between 10 and 50 can be barred from entering the Sabarimala Temple as per the temple’s custom. In these examples, rather than merely interpreting secular law, the courts have put forward theories that defined the doctrines of major religions.
A major 1961 Supreme Court case concerning a Muslim shrine, Durgah Committee, Ajmer v Syed Hussain Ali, was a milestone in developing the essential religious practices (ERP) doctrine, which had emerged in the earlier The Commissioner, Hindu Religious Endowments, Madras v Sri Lakshmindra Thirtha Swamiar of Sri Shirur Mutt case in 1954. The doctrine gave the courts license to distinguish between what they believed to be the essential practices of a religion — guaranteed constitutional protection — and practices that “may have sprung from merely superstitious beliefs and may in that sense be extraneous and unessential accretions to religion itself.” The Supreme Court went on to argue that “unless such practices are found to constitute an essential and integral part of a religion their claim ….[they] may have to be carefully scrutinized; in other words, the protection must be confined to such religious practices as are an essential and an integral part of it and no other.”
Yet, there has lately been pushback against the judiciary’s overreach, coming from both a secular, constitutionalist angle and from Hindus who see their religious beliefs and practices as being overregulated. For example, in April 2026, the Supreme Court of India stayed the criminal proceedings against Vineet Vincent Pereira.
The Sabarimala Temple issue, in particular, touched a nerve because it pitted the judiciary against a section of traditional Hindu beliefs. In 2018, the Supreme Court of India allowed menstruating women to enter the Sabarimala Temple in Keralam, overturning centuries of tradition. Traditionalists argued that the state ought to defer to religious communities in matters of reform. The Supreme Court is currently reconsidering the ERP doctrine, and whether it imposes an elite interpretation of religion on practitioners.
Many Hindus have also taken exception to longstanding government control over the management of Hindu temples, a policy that does not extend to management over Christian churches and Muslim mosques. The Supreme Court is currently reviewing the constitutional validity of laws regulating the management of temples across several South Indian states.
However well-intentioned the essential religious practices doctrine is and however noble the idea of religious reform might be, the result has been the extensive entanglement of the Indian state with religious beliefs and practices in a manner that may seem intrusive. They certainly leave the door open to judgments and laws that violate the spirit of religious freedom and often lead to bitter resentment, especially when core religious beliefs are defined by judges.
This does not mean that the Indian government should not regulate or legislate on social, personal, or economic issues that impact the rights of all Indians, but these should be framed in secular terms, not as judge-driven reformation of sacred tenets. For example, laws abolishing polygamy should be framed as legal and civic reform and modernization rather than as interpretations of theology and religious jurisprudence. India can both put forward a modern, streamlined body of secular laws and maintain respect for religious freedom, along with the right of communities to define their own practices.
