The Sanctity of Mosques: India’s Religious Intolerance and the TTP’s War on Worshippers

The Sanctity of Mosques: India’s Religious Intolerance and the TTP’s War on Worshippers

A mosque is not merely a building of bricks, stone, domes and minarets. It is a sanctuary of faith, dignity, equality and peace. Inside a mosque, the rich and the poor stand shoulder to shoulder, the powerful and the powerless face the same Qibla, and every worldly distinction disappears before the Creator. That is why the sanctity of a mosque cannot be made conditional upon politics, power, ethnicity, sect or state authority. It is rooted in faith, human dignity and the universal right to worship without fear. When a mosque is demolished, desecrated or turned into a target, the crime is therefore much greater than damage to a building. It is an assault on religious freedom, human dignity and social peace. Whether the threat comes through ideological majoritarianism, political intimidation or terrorism, the message is equally destructive: that religious identity can be made a reason for fear, exclusion and violence.

From Pakistan’s perspective, the experience of South Asia presents two deeply troubling manifestations of this abuse of religion. In India, historic Muslim places of worship have become targets of politically charged disputes, campaigns and actions associated with Hindutva politics and majoritarian mobilization. In Pakistan, the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) and affiliated terrorist organizations have waged a brutal campaign against mosques, Imambargahs, shrines, religious scholars, security personnel and ordinary worshippers. These phenomena have different histories and mechanisms, and they must not be artificially equated. Yet they expose the same dangerous principle: once religion is weaponized for domination, hatred or violence, sacred places and innocent people become expendable.

The Babri Mosque demolition remains one of the most powerful symbols of this danger. On 6 December 1992, the sixteenth-century mosque in Ayodhya was demolished by a large Hindu crowd following years of political and religious mobilization surrounding competing claims over the site. The destruction was followed by devastating communal violence in different parts of India. Babri therefore ceased to be merely a historical structure. It became a symbol of the collision between religious identity, majoritarian politics, historical claims and the rights of minorities. The lesson from Babri should have been unmistakable: historical grievances cannot be allowed to become political weapons capable of determining the fate of existing places of worship. India’s Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, sought to preserve the religious character of places of worship as it existed on 15 August 1947, although the Babri dispute was specifically exempted from the legislation. The principle behind the law remains significant: centuries-old disputes should not become an endless licence to reopen the religious identity of existing sacred places. Yet controversies surrounding other historic mosques, including the Gyanvapi Mosque, have kept the issue alive. From Pakistan’s perspective, history must be established through evidence, archaeology must be assessed by qualified experts, and legal disputes must be resolved by courts not by mobs, political campaigns or majoritarian pressure.

A democracy cannot allow the historical memory of one community to become a weapon against the living rights of another. A place of worship cannot become vulnerable simply because a political movement claims that centuries-old history gives it a new religious identity. If every historical claim becomes a political demand for the alteration of an existing sacred site, no religious community can feel secure. The same concern arises from controversies surrounding demolitions and what human-rights organizations have described as “bulldozer justice.” Where genuine violations of land, construction or encroachment laws exist, the state has the legitimate authority to enforce the law. But the law loses its moral authority when enforcement appears selective, discriminatory or collective. A state cannot claim to uphold justice while allowing punishment to be determined by religious identity, political affiliation or communal pressure. The standard must be simple: one law, equally applied; one justice system, equally accessible; one standard of protection for every religious community. It is also essential to distinguish Hinduism from Hindutva. Hinduism is an ancient faith followed by millions of people, while Hindutva represents a particular political and ideological conception with varying interpretations. The actions of extremist political movements must never be attributed to all Hindus. Likewise, the crimes of the TTP must never be attributed to Islam or to Muslims. The battle is not between religions. It is between the values of tolerance, law and human dignity on one side and the politics of hatred, domination and violence on the other. Pakistan knows the second form of this danger with devastating intimacy. For more than two decades, the TTP and affiliated terrorist organizations have attacked mosques, Imambargahs, shrines, religious scholars, tribal elders, police officers, soldiers and ordinary citizens. They have murdered people while they prayed, attacked religious gatherings, assassinated scholars who rejected extremism and transformed places of worship into scenes of terror. This is not religious struggle. It is terrorism wearing religious language as a disguise. TTP’s record exposes the hollowness of its claims to defend Islam. A movement that kills Muslims in mosques, murders scholars, attacks security personnel, terrorizes communities and seeks to impose its ideology through force cannot credibly claim to be protecting a religion whose fundamental teachings include justice, mercy, human dignity and the sanctity of life.

The killing of moderate religious scholars such as Allama Dr. Sarfraz Naeemi demonstrated another brutal reality: extremists do not merely attack the state or people of opposing sects. They also attack Muslims who reject their violent interpretation of religion. Their objective is therefore not simply to defeat an opponent; it is to silence every alternative voice and monopolize the definition of faith through fear. Attacks on mosques in Khyber, Jamrud, Darra Adam Khel, Wana, Khyber Agency and other parts of the country left worshippers dead, families shattered and communities traumatized. Places that should have offered refuge became targets. 30 January 2023 attack on the Police Lines Mosque in Peshawar demonstrated the sheer brutality of this mindset. Worshippers gathered for prayer were attacked inside a place dedicated to peace and devotion. The United Nations condemned the bombing and emphasized that the freedom to worship in peace and security is a universal human right. The message from such attacks is chilling: the terrorist does not recognize the sanctity of prayer, the dignity of the worshipper or the moral limits imposed by religion. For the terrorist, even a person standing before God can become a target. That is why the TTP must be confronted not as a religious movement but as a terrorist organization whose ideology has brought death, fear and destruction to Pakistan. Its violence has never been confined to mosques. Sufi shrines, religious centers and scholars have also been attacked because they did not conform to the extremists’ rigid ideological framework. Attacks associated with sites such as Data Darbar, Rehman Baba and other religious and Sufi centers demonstrate the intolerance embedded in violent extremism. The extremists do not protect religious diversity; they seek to destroy it. The logic is simple and terrifying. First, the extremist claims exclusive authority over religion. Then he decides who is a “true” believer and who is not. Then he declares opponents illegitimate. Finally, he gives himself the authority to punish or kill them. That is not religious revival. It is ideological tyranny.

The comparison with developments in India must nevertheless be made carefully. India’s mosque controversies primarily involve historical claims, communal politics, majoritarian mobilization and, in some cases, state or administrative action. The TTP’s campaign in Pakistan is armed terrorism involving bombings, assassinations and organized violence. The mechanisms are different. The consequences, however, reveal the same warning: when religious identity is converted into an instrument of political domination or violence, religious freedom becomes one of the first casualties. A mosque can be attacked in more than one way. Its walls can be demolished. Its identity can be challenged. Its worshippers can be terrorized. Its scholars can be silenced. Its pulpit can be turned into a platform for hatred. And its sacred symbolism can be exploited to legitimize political or militant power. Every one of these actions damages the principle that a human being should be able to enter a place of worship without fear.

Pakistan has paid an enormous price to defend that principle. Terrorism has killed and injured tens of thousands of Pakistanis and inflicted immense economic and social damage. Pakistan has repeatedly stated before the international community that it is among the principal victims of terrorism and that its people and security forces have made extraordinary sacrifices in confronting it. The international community has repeatedly recognized the horror of attacks on Pakistani places of worship. In September 2026, the United Nations Secretary-General strongly condemned a bombing at a mosque in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa that reportedly killed at least 16 people, including police officers, and injured more than 50. The UN stressed that attacks against civilians and places of worship are unacceptable and that those responsible must be brought to justice. This is precisely why Pakistan has every reason to reject the cynical use of religion by terrorist organizations.

TTP cannot claim the mantle of Islam while murdering Muslims at prayer. It cannot speak of justice while spreading terror. It cannot speak of religious purity while assassinating scholars who disagree with it. It cannot claim to defend Pakistan while attacking Pakistani citizens. And it cannot transform criminal violence into a sacred cause simply by attaching religious vocabulary to it. The same principle applies to religious discrimination elsewhere. A state cannot claim to uphold democracy, pluralism and the rule of law while permitting religious identity to become a basis for political exclusion or insecurity. The protection of sacred places cannot depend upon which community worships inside them. Pakistan’s position, therefore, should be clear and uncompromising: the rights of Muslims in India must be protected without turning that concern into hostility toward Hinduism or Hindus, just as the condemnation of TTP terrorism must not be confused with hostility toward Islam. The target of criticism must be the discriminatory policy, extremist ideology, violent organization or unlawful act not an entire faith.

South Asia cannot afford a future in which history becomes ammunition and religion becomes a battlefield. A mosque must not be demolished to satisfy a political narrative. A mosque must not be surrounded by communal hatred. A mosque must not become a terrorist target. And no religious community should have to prove its right to worship by enduring intimidation or violence. The protection of religious sites must therefore be treated as an essential component of national security and human security. Governments must protect vulnerable places of worship, prosecute those who attack them, counter extremist propaganda, strengthen community engagement and ensure that religious scholars who promote peace are not left isolated.

The media also carries a profound responsibility. Sensationalism, communal provocation and unverified allegations can transform local disputes into national hatred. Responsible journalism must expose extremism without manufacturing hostility toward entire communities. The objective should be accountability, not collective demonization. Young people have an equally important role. Extremist organizations survive by manipulating anger, grievance and identity. Their propaganda attempts to convince young minds that violence is courage and hatred is faith. That deception must be confronted through education, credible religious scholarship, critical thinking, responsible digital communication and opportunities for constructive civic participation. The mosque should be reclaimed from both the terrorist and the politician who seeks to exploit its symbolism.

It should remain what it has always represented at its best: prayer, equality, community, compassion and peace. For Pakistan, this is not an abstract debate. Pakistan has buried its citizens because terrorists chose mosques as targets. Families have lost fathers, sons and brothers. Religious scholars have been murdered for rejecting extremism. Security personnel have died protecting the country from those who attempted to impose their ideology through bloodshed. Pakistan therefore has a powerful moral argument to make: no terrorist organization has the right to speak in the name of Islam after turning Muslim places of worship into killing grounds. At the same time, Pakistan must consistently defend the principle that Muslim places of worship anywhere in the region deserve protection from discrimination, unlawful destruction and political intimidation. The answer to religious injustice cannot be another form of religious hatred. The answer to extremist violence cannot be another extremist ideology. The answer is law. The answer is justice. The answer is equal protection. And the answer is the rejection of every attempt to convert religion into a weapon.

South Asia has suffered enough from the politics of religious division. Its future cannot be built on demolished mosques, frightened minorities, radicalized youth or terrorist attacks on worshippers. The region needs institutions strong enough to resist mobs, governments accountable enough to prevent discrimination, religious scholars courageous enough to confront extremism, and societies mature enough to distinguish between faith and the political exploitation of faith. The sanctity of a mosque is indivisible. If a Muslim place of worship is attacked in India, it must be condemned as a violation of religious freedom and human dignity. If the TTP attacks a mosque in Pakistan, it must be condemned as terrorism and as a direct assault on the moral principles of Islam. There can be no double standard. There can be no selective outrage. There can be no religious justification for terrorism. There can be no political justification for discrimination. And there can be no future for South Asia if sacred places remain hostages to hatred.

The real test of civilization is not how loudly a society speaks about religion, but how faithfully it protects the rights of people to practice that religion without fear. The real test of a state is not the slogans it raises, but whether its laws protect the weak as firmly as they protect the powerful. For Pakistan, the lesson has been written in the blood and sacrifice of generations: terrorism cannot be defeated merely on the battlefield. Its ideology must also be defeated in minds, communities and narratives. The extremist must be denied the legitimacy he seeks. The terrorist must be denied the religious language with which he attempts to disguise his crimes. And the politics of religious hatred must be challenged wherever it threatens human dignity and peaceful coexistence. Whether the instrument is a bulldozer used in the name of majoritarian politics or a bomb carried into a mosque by a terrorist, the assault ultimately strikes the same fundamental right: the right of a human being to stand before his Creator in peace.

The methods may be different. The ideologies may be different. The political contexts may be different. But the answer must be the same: No to religious discrimination. No to extremist domination. No to terrorism. No to the weaponization of religion. Yes to justice, religious freedom, human dignity and peace.  Pakistan has suffered too much from terrorism to remain silent about the misuse of religion. It has lost too many innocent citizens to allow terrorists to claim a religious mantle. And it has witnessed too much bloodshed to accept the destruction of sacred places as a legitimate instrument of political or ideological power. The message must therefore be unequivocal: a mosque is a house of worship, not a battlefield; Islam is a faith, not a licence for terrorism; and religious freedom is a right, not a concession. Those who attack that principle whether through discriminatory politics, communal intimidation or terrorism must be confronted through law, justice and an unwavering defence of human dignity.