By Gurnam Singh | Opinion |

The BJP-led Maharashtra state assembly recently passed a bill to regulate religious conversion. Ironically titled the Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Bill 2026, the legislation imposes stringent restrictions on individuals’ rights to convert to another faith tradition, with those found guilty of an “unlawful conversion” facing fines and up to seven years’ imprisonment. Maharashtra is not the only state to have moved in this directions.

Since 2014, under the leadership of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), numerous states have either introduced or strengthened anti-conversion legislation. While such laws have existed since the 1960s in some regions, their recent proliferation signals a coordinated political effort and worrying trend, not least since the evidence for forced conversions is extremely limited, often confined to single cases that have been embellished by biased media reporting and social media eco chambers.

The kinds of laws, such as the one passed in Maharashtra, though mostly a product of media moral panics and identity politics, are often justified through the need to prevent conversions achieved through “force,” “fraud,” or “allurement.” However, the definitions of these terms remain deliberately broad and ambiguous, allowing authorities significant discretion in interpretation.

A key feature of these laws is the presumption that conversions are inherently suspect. In an inversion of habeas corpus, the burden of proof frequently lies on those facilitating or participating in the conversion. Additionally, procedural requirements, such as notifying authorities in advance and undergoing police inquiries, effectively make religious conversion a matter of public scrutiny rather than private conscience.

In practice, these mechanisms enable both state surveillance and intervention by vigilante groups and given that it is BJP dominated states that are favouring these moves, one needs to understand this trend in the context of unfounded Hindu nationalist conspiracy theories alleging mass forced conversions of Hindus by Christians and Muslims. Accordingly, these developments must be seen as symptomatic of a broader ideological currents tied to Hindu nationalism and the governance of religious diversity.

The Sikh Perspective

Examining these trends alongside Sikh perspectives offers a more nuanced understanding of religious freedom, coercion, and identity in contemporary India. As noted, though framed in neutral terms, the application of anti-conversion laws disproportionately affects religious minorities, particularly Muslims and Christians. The rhetoric surrounding “love jihad,” for instance, has been used to justify legal and social policing of interfaith relationships, especially those involving Muslim men.

Similarly, and particularly so in Panjab, there is a growing concern expressed by Sikh activist groups that Christian Deras (religious seminaries) who claim to me motivated by education or charity work for the poor and downtrodden have been accused of inducing conversions through material incentives, placing their activities under suspicion. How, to date, the state of Punjab has refused to adopt laws to regulate religious conversion, making it one of the few states in North India without such legislation. One might suggest this is due to the relative lack of support for the BJP in Panjab and, despite the horrors of the partition in 1947, the long-established secular traditions of the Punjab.

From a Sikh theological perspective, these developments raise profound concerns about religious freedom and state overreach. Sikhi, founded in the 15th century in the Punjab region, has historically emphasised the principles of freedom of conscience, equality, and resistance to oppression. Sikh teachings reject forced conversion and uphold the right of individuals to choose their spiritual path freely. This commitment is rooted in the historical experiences of the Sikh Gurus, particularly Guru Tegh Bahadur, who was executed in 1675 for defending the religious freedom of Kashmiri Pandits against forced conversion under Mughal rule.

Against these deep philosophical and ethical values, there are currents amongst Sikhs who have expressed concern about the scale of Sikhs converting to Christianity. Concerns regarding the scale and nature of Christian conversions in Punjab, particularly in the Malwa belt, have been strongly articulated by a range of socio-religious and political organisations. Groups such as the Punjab Bachao Morcha argue that conversions are occurring on a “large scale” and are often linked to organised missionary networks, including thousands of pastors operating across rural districts.

They allege that methods such as faith-healing claims, material inducements, and “miracle cures” are used to attract economically vulnerable populations, especially among Dalit communities, raising questions about the voluntariness and ethical boundaries of such conversions. These organisations have also expressed concern over the role of foreign funding, non-transparent financial structures, and the proliferation of independent “dera-like” churches.

Academic and policy-oriented studies suggest that these trends are intertwined with deeper structural issues such as caste marginalisation, rural poverty, and the search for social mobility, which make certain populations more receptive to conversion movements. However, Christian organisations counter these narratives by emphasising constitutional protections of religious freedom and warning that the politicisation of the issue risks communal polarisation and worse.

These counter currents and conflicting explanations positions Sikhi and Sikhs in a complex moral and philosophical bind. While Sikhi does not actively proselytise in the same way as some missionary traditions, it strongly defends the right of individuals to convert voluntarily. The increasing criminalisation of conversion, therefore, conflicts with deep rooted Sikh principles of freedom of belief and conscience.

Moreover, the collective nature and deeply politicised and confused nature of anti-conversion laws, raises additional concerns. Though Sikhs have not been primary targets thus far. Sikh institutions, such as gurdwaras, have historically provided social services including education and food distribution (langar) without discrimination. Under expansive interpretations of “allurement,” even such charitable practices may theoretically come under scrutiny.

Another important dimension is the potential erosion of constitutional protections. Article 25 of the Indian Constitution, both recognises the Sikhs as a distinct faith within the broad Indic tradition and guarantees the “freedom of conscience and free profession, practice and propagation of religion.” While the Supreme Court of India upheld the validity of anti-conversion laws in a 1977 judgment, current legal challenges argue that newer provisions violate rights to privacy and personal liberty. For Sikhs, who have historically relied on constitutional safeguards to maintain their distinct identity within a pluralistic framework, any weakening of these protections is particularly troubling, especially in a context where the BJP RSS view has consistently argued that Sikhs are a branch of Hinduism.

The tightening of anti-conversion laws in India reflects broader tensions between majoritarian nationalism and religious pluralism. From a Sikh perspective, these laws risk undermining fundamental principles of freedom, dignity, and coexistence. As legal and political debates continue, the Sikh tradition offers a reminder that the defence of one community’s religious freedom is inseparable from the defence of all.

Though the idea of making it difficult for somebody to convert may, in the face of the developments in the Malvas region seem like a solution, there is a real danger that following the Maharashtra example. May prove to be a poisoned chalice, and undermine the unique attraction that Sikhi has for people of other faiths and none.

As for Sikhs who may for a wide range of reasons feel compelled to abandon Sikhi for another faith, this should serve as a wakeup call for the Panth to strengthen Sikh education for the masses as well as widen the scope of social and educational services for the most disadvantaged, who tend to be the ones most vulnerable to the often false promises offered by others.

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Gurnam Singh is an academic activist dedicated to human rights, liberty, equality, social and environmental justice. He is a Professor of Sociology at University of Warwick, UK. He can be contacted at Gurnam.singh.1@warwick.ac.uk

* This is the opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Asia Samachar.

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