In 2024, the Modi government introduced the Waqf Amendment Bill, claiming it was meant to improve the Waqf Act of 1995. But behind this technical facade lies a much more aggressive design. This is not a mere amendment—it is, in substance, a new act disguised as reform. While it uses the language of “efficiency” and “modernization,” the bill enables the wholesale transfer of Muslim-managed charitable land into the hands of bureaucrats and, eventually, corporate entities. With over 8.7 lakh acres of Waqf properties at stake—assets that fund schools, mosques, graveyards, clinics, and shelters—the bill undermines community autonomy and facilitates corporate profiteering. It fits into a larger pattern of privatizing forests, farmland, and urban lands to benefit a handful of billionaires while crushing marginalized communities.
A Disguised Land Grab
The 2024 amendments transfer authority over Waqf properties from Waqf Boards to District Collectors—officials known more for facilitating land acquisitions than safeguarding community interests. This shift effectively sidelines the very communities that created and have historically managed these charitable trusts. The bill also abolishes the principle of “Waqf by user,” a safeguard that protects undocumented sites long used as mosques, graveyards, or dargahs, leaving them vulnerable to encroachment or sale.
Equally disturbing is the provision allowing non-Muslim members in the Central Waqf Council and State Waqf Boards. While marketed as “inclusive,” this move starkly contrasts with laws like the Uttar Pradesh Shri Kashi Vishwanath Temple Act, which reserves temple management solely for Hindus. The asymmetry reveals a double standard—one that elevates Hindu institutions while encroaching on Muslim ones. Further, the bill permits heirs—including women —to claim inheritance over family Waqf assets. While framed as progressive, this move fundamentally disrupts the perpetual charitable status of Waqf, mirroring colonial tactics used to fragment and commodify collective land systems.
A Constitutional Sleight of Hand
To justify this overhaul, the government argues that Waqf is not a religious matter but merely property management. This legal fiction is critical to avoid constitutional scrutiny. Were Waqf acknowledged as a religious institution—as it traditionally and theologically is—any legislative interference would face challenges under Articles 25 and 26 of the Constitution, which guarantee religious freedom and the autonomy of religious denominations to manage their affairs.
- Treating Waqf as secular real estate is not just jurisprudentially unsound; it’s constitutionally dubious. The Supreme Court, in earlier landmark cases, has held that religious communities have the right to manage their religious affairs and institutions. To selectively redefine Waqf as non-religious while extending full religious protections to Hindu temples is both discriminatory and a violation of India’s ‘secular’ framework.
The Myth of Reform
The government insists the bill is meant to “reform” mismanaged Waqf properties. But why this sudden concern for Muslim welfare from a regime that has otherwise marginalized Muslims through rhetoric and policy?
If mismanagement were truly the issue, the vastly wealthier and more opaque Hindu temple trusts would be a more urgent case for reform. These institutions manage assets worth trillions, face little oversight, and are governed by a patchwork of inconsistent state laws—yet remain untouched.
Waqf properties, by contrast, are already regulated under the Waqf Act, 1995, and overseen by State Waqf Boards and the Central Waqf Council. They undergo audits, registration, and parliamentary review. The call for further reform is less about transparency and more about consolidating control over minority institutions.
A Pattern of Exclusion and Exploitation
This bill fits a broader pattern of dispossession. From Bastar’s Adivasi lands seized for mining, to the forests of Hasdeo Aranya destroyed for coal, to the displacement of tribal communities in Nagarhole for eco-tourism, to the so-called “development” in Great Nicobar—India’s commons are being sacrificed at the altar of corporate expansion.
Urban Waqf lands—like the Haj House in Hyderabad or graveyards in Delhi—are lucrative real estate targets. By centralizing control and weakening legal protections, the bill makes it easier for governments to hand these properties over to favoured corporations. This strategy is rooted in both economic greed and Islamophobia—a way of criminalizing Muslim self-sufficiency and dismantling the few remaining institutions that serve the community.
Hindutva and the Corporate Nexus
This corporate plunder is facilitated by the nexus between the RSS-BJP and big corporations. The RSS, through affiliates like the Swadeshi Jagran Manch, champions privatization maintaining ties to corporations like Adani and Reliance. Gautam Adani’s empire, built on controversial land acquisitions for ports, airports, and mines, epitomizes this collusion. By centralizing control of Waqf lands, the state will streamline their transfer to favoured corporations, consolidating economic and political power while advancing majoritarian goals.
Why This Matters Now
Muslims, who comprise 14% of the population, account for just 4% of government jobs and 4.4% of college graduates. Amid this systemic marginalization, Waqf institutions have been one of the few religious charitable support systems for education, healthcare, and livelihoods. Instead of fighting the corruption within, the government is attempting to dismantle this safety net under a false promise of reform.
The amendments are not just an attack on Waqf—they represent the erosion of community rights across the board. Farmers resisting corporate agriculture, Adivasis defending their forests, and the urban poor battling evictions are all caught in the same web: a state-corporate nexus profiting from land, labour, and identity.
What We Need Is A United Fight
If the government genuinely sought justice, it would invest in education for the Muslim masses, enforce job quotas, and criminalize hate crimes. Instead, it offers a bill that sacrifices community resources at the altar of corporate profit. Solidarity among Muslims, Dalits, Adivasis, farmers, workers, and all the oppressed, is the only antidote to this exploitation. As history shows, fragmented resistance fails; collective action breaks the status-quo. The Waqf Bill is must be treated not only as a Muslim issue—it is part of a broader struggle against state-backed land grabbing across India.
