Thress Competing Visions in Reshaping Modern India

The making of modern India unfolded not only on the battlegrounds of mass movements and negotiation tables but also in the contested imaginations of the three men who shaped its moral, political, and civilizational vocabulary in the last 100 years: Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, and Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar. They lived through the same turbulence—colonial subjugation, communal anxieties, the rising winds of nationalism—yet each interpreted the country’s past and future through a radically different lens. Their visions converged at moments, collided at others, and produced a landscape of debates whose echoes still define India’s political soul. One of the most charged and consequential subjects upon which they differed was the question of Islam, Muslims, and the place of the Muslim community in the Indian nation.

Savarkar approached Islam as a political phenomenon emerging from his reading of India’s medieval past. Gandhi encountered Islam through personal relationships, inter-faith encounters, and the Qur’an’s ethical teachings that he felt deep kinship with. Ambedkar confronted Islam as a social theorist and constitutionalist, attentive to structures of power, equality, and community identity. Together, they represent three grand narratives: civilizational nationalism (Savarkar), religious universalism (Gandhi), and constitutional rationalism (Ambedkar).

Savarkar saw history as a long battlefield, in which civilizations rose or perished depending on their capacity for collective strength. Islam, in his imagination, was a force that arrived in India with the might of empire and changed the subcontinent forever. He was concerned about Islam's “political theology”—its capacity to bind its followers into a disciplined, transnational community, often armed with the zeal of conquest. He cited episodes of temple destruction, forced conversions, and military dominance as evidence of what he called a “civilizational challenge.” It was not individual Muslims who worried him, but the historical memory of Muslim rule, which he felt continued to shape Muslim political identity in his own time. This worldview led him to assert that Muslims could be equal citizens only if they aligned their cultural identity entirely with the Hindu civilizational ethos of India.

Gandhi’s understanding of Islam emerged from a completely different sensibility. His earliest experiences in South Africa, where he worked closely with Muslim merchants and political activists, shaped a lifelong affection and trust. For Gandhi, religions were universal expressions of truth, each holding an aspect of the divine. He frequently quoted the Qur’an in his prayer meetings, admired the simplicity of Islamic monotheism, and respected the discipline of the Muslim community. He believed that Muslims were as woven into India’s fabric as any other group and saw the struggle for independence as a moral project requiring Hindu–Muslim unity. Gandhi often reminded Hindus that they had a duty to protect Muslims, even when provoked, as part of the larger ethic of ahimsa. He rejected the idea of fault lines drawn by history, insisting instead on the possibility of reconciliation through love, repentance, and mutual respect.

Ambedkar, meanwhile, stood at a third vantage point—aloof from both Savarkar’s civilizational narrative and Gandhi’s spiritual universalism. He studied Islam sociologically, as a system of law, community organization, and social norms. He was not hostile to Islam’s theology; his concerns were structural. He examined issues such as the status of minorities under Islamic states, the community’s internal hierarchies, and the ways in which religion shaped political behavior. Ambedkar disagreed with Gandhi’s romanticism and with Savarkar’s cultural homogenization. He believed that any stable relationship between Hindus and Muslims required clear constitutional safeguards, secular law, and uncompromising equality before the state. Ambedkar saw history as important, but unlike Savarkar, he did not treat medieval invasions as the key to understanding modern Muslims. Instead, he focused on contemporary realities: representation, rights, and the prevention of majoritarian or minoritarian domination.

Savarkar’s insistence that Muslims were a politically unified bloc, bound by pan-Islamic sentiment, clashed sharply with Gandhi’s belief in individual moral responsibility. For Savarkar, political unity was not just a fact but a threat; for Gandhi, it was neither predetermined nor permanent. Gandhi repeatedly argued that Muslims, like Hindus, were shaped by circumstances and could be guided by conscience and compassion. When Savarkar accused Gandhi of appeasing Muslims, Gandhi retorted that the strong must yield to the weak, and that Hindus, being the majority, bore special responsibility for harmony. This difference was not merely political—it reflected two entirely different ethical universes. Savarkar believed in power; Gandhi believed in love.

Ambedkar was unconvinced by both. He argued that neither power nor love alone could resolve India’s communal question. His critique of Savarkar was that cultural assimilation was unrealistic and coercive. His critique of Gandhi was that moral appeals could not erase structural inequalities or deep-seated group loyalties. Ambedkar insisted that India needed a secular constitutional framework where group identities—Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, or Christian—did not determine citizenship or privilege. For him, the question was not whether Islam was foreign or whether Hindus should be magnanimous, but whether the state could ensure equality and justice for all.

Savarkar read Islam through the lens of medieval history. Gandhi read Islam through the voices of his Muslim friends and the ethical teachings he cherished. Ambedkar read Islam through the frameworks of law and identity politics. These different sources of knowledge shaped their divergent conclusions. When Savarkar emphasized the destruction of temples by medieval sultans, Gandhi emphasized the piety of contemporary Muslims he prayed alongside. When Gandhi celebrated Qur’anic ideas of justice and charity, Savarkar highlighted episodes of conquest. When Savarkar feared the political unity of Muslims, Ambedkar examined how economic and social conditions shaped Muslim political behavior.

For Gandhi, the past was important a teacher, but not a prison. He often said India must not be held hostage by medieval memories. Savarkar, by contrast, believed the past was still unfolding in the present; that the same patterns of dominance and vulnerability continued to shape Hindu–Muslim relations. Ambedkar believed neither position was fully accurate. He saw the past as context but not destiny, and insisted that only modern institutions—constitutions, courts, legislatures—could break the cycle of fear and mistrust.

Savarkar’s political imagination demanded cultural conformity. Gandhi’s demanded moral transformation. Ambedkar’s demanded institutional restructuring. For Savarkar, India needed a strong Hindu identity to withstand internal and external threats. For Gandhi, India needed a pluralistic soul rooted in respect, humility, and truth. For Ambedkar, India needed a secular, rational state that owed loyalty not to abstract civilizations or spiritual ideals, but to justice.

Their contrasting views on Islam and Muslims thus revealed their contrasting visions of India itself. Savarkar imagined a nation forged in ancient civilizational unity. Gandhi imagined a nation woven from the threads of all its peoples, a moral fellowship transcending religious boundaries. Ambedkar imagined a nation anchored in citizenship, equality, and institutions that protected the weak from the strong and the minority from the majority.

When Gandhi reached out to Muslims during the Khilafat movement, Savarkar saw naïveté. When Savarkar demanded Hindu consolidation, Gandhi saw moral failure. Ambedkar saw both approaches as insufficient. He argued that the Hindu majority must not rely on goodwill alone, nor should Muslims expect special accommodations. Instead, India needed a political order free from religious favoritism of any kind.

Partition cast these differences into sharp relief. Savarkar believed that Muslim separatism vindicated his concerns. Gandhi believed partition was a tragedy born of fear and mistrust. Ambedkar believed that the failure of Hindu–Muslim unity was due not to inherent hostility, but to the inability of leaders—and communities—to agree on shared political safeguards.

Even after independence, their intellectual afterlives continued to shape India’s discourse. Savarkar’s writings inspired movements rooted in majoritarian cultural nationalism. Gandhi’s legacy fueled visions of interfaith harmony and moral citizenship. Ambedkar’s thought became the backbone of India’s constitutional democracy, shaping debates on rights, secularism, and group identity. On Islam and Muslims, their differences remain foundational: Savarkar left a narrative of civilizational conflict, Gandhi left a narrative of ethical coexistence, and Ambedkar left a narrative of institutional equality.

Taken together, they form a triad of competing arguments. Savarkar argues that nations cannot survive without collective strength. Gandhi teaches us that nations cannot survive without conscience. Ambedkar argues that nations cannot survive without justice. Islam and Muslims, in their writings, become a mirror reflecting their deepest convictions: Savarkar’s fear of fragmentation, Gandhi’s longing for unity, Ambedkar’s demand for fairness. And through that mirror, people see not only these three men but the tensions that continue to shape India’s engagement with diversity, identity, and the meaning of the nation itself.