Ancient Texts, Modern Politics: The Selective Outrage Over Scripture

Two recent controversies have put the spotlight on how ancient religious texts are interpreted and deployed in contemporary Indian politics. Congress leader Rahul Gandhi has made the outright rejection of Manusmriti a central plank of his political messaging, arguing that the text prescribes subordinate roles for women. In Kerala, Islamic scholar Kanthapuram A.P. Aboobacker Musliyar has similarly asserted that the Quran directs women to remain confined to their homes and avoid public appearances.

Though separated by centuries of composition — Manusmriti is dated between the 2nd century BCE and the 3rd century CE, while the Quran is believed to have been revealed between 610 CE and 632 CE — both texts have been invoked to justify patriarchal norms. Gandhi's reading of Manusmriti is condemnatory, shared by many progressives, while the cleric's interpretation of the Quran is presented as an endorsement of traditional gender roles.

The core question is how a modern, secular constitutional democracy should treat such scriptures. The foundational values of liberty, equality, and dignity for all citizens, regardless of gender, are non-negotiable. Yet, beyond that consensus, sharp divisions emerge over the appropriate response.

One approach is to reject the entire text, as some critics of both Manusmriti and the Quran do. This literalist or originalist stance can be applied either to uphold or to condemn a scripture. A second approach favours reinterpretation, arguing that verses cannot be read in isolation and that historical examples of women in leadership roles within Islamic and Indian traditions offer a more nuanced understanding. Proponents of this view suggest that the core ethical principles of these texts can be adapted to modern sensibilities.

The political landscape, however, reveals a troubling inconsistency. Cultural nationalists, who are quick to condemn the Quran as irredeemably problematic, become fiercely defensive of their own scriptural traditions. They advocate for the liberation of Muslim women while ignoring similar patriarchal elements in Hindu practices. Conversely, many secular progressives are unhesitating in their wholesale condemnation of Manusmriti but resort to elaborate interpretations to avoid rejecting the Quran outright, fearing that such criticism might embolden majoritarian forces.

There is also a strand of secular rationalists who treat all religious texts with equal disdain. Among Muslims themselves, there are those who reject the cleric's claims and any local accretions to the faith's tenets. This selective reinterpretation and condemnation are often driven by political calculation as much as by theological conviction.

A third path exists: to declare that ancient texts have no bearing on public life, which is governed instead by the Constitution and the rule of law. But this is easier said than done, as modern law protects religious faiths and the boundaries between state law and religious tradition remain porous.

Ultimately, progressive thinking must choose among rejecting all texts, reinterpreting them in a progressive light, or adopting an agnostic stance. Each option carries its own costs and benefits. M.K. Gandhi, an astute nation-builder, chose the path of reinterpretation, seeking to adapt tradition to the modern world. There is no easy answer, but the debate itself is essential for a pluralistic democracy.