Savio Saldanha SJ
DOI - 10.5281/zenodo.19101967
18-03-2026
There
are moments when a law does more than regulate behavior. It quietly reveals
what we are afraid of. The Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Bill, 2026
feels like one of those moments—less because of what it openly says and more
because of what it begins to do beneath the surface. At first glance, the
intention appears reasonable. It speaks of preventing forced conversions,
stopping fraud, and protecting the vulnerable. No Indian of any religious
affiliation or an atheist can object to that. Faith, if it is real, cannot be
forced, it cannot be bought and it cannot be negotiated like a contract. The Catholic
tradition itself is clear on this. The Catechism of the Catholic Church
teaches that the human response to God must be free, never compelled. Likewise,
the Second Vatican Council’s declaration Dignitatis Humanae insists that
no one should be forced to act against their conscience. Faith is meaningful
only when it is freely chosen. And yet, despite this shared commitment to
freedom, something about this law creates unease because slowly, almost
quietly, the focus shifts—from preventing coercion to examining conscience.
The Myth vs. Reality: Are Mass
Conversions Even Happening?
Much of the urgency behind anti-conversion laws rests on a widely repeated claim: that India is witnessing large-scale, aggressive conversions. But when we step away from rhetoric and look at data, the picture becomes far less dramatic. According to India’s official census, Christians make up a small minority, and that proportion has remained strikingly stable for decades. There is no visible surge, no demographic shift that would suggest widespread conversion.
Official Census Trend of Christianity in
India
I
will use the data from the official Indian government website regarding the
percentage of Christians in India.
|
Year |
Christian
Population (%) |
|
1951 |
2.3% |
|
1971 |
2.6% |
|
1991 |
2.3% |
|
2011 |
2.3% |
The
data is almost uneventful. Over more than seventy years, the proportion has
barely changed. If anything, it reflects continuity rather than expansion. If
large-scale conversions were truly occurring, the demographic pattern would
show a clear upward trajectory which it does not. This raises a question that
cannot be avoided: Are such laws responding to a real, measurable
problem—or to a perception shaped by fear?
The Shift from Protection to Suspicion
The
deeper concern lies not in the stated intention of the law, but in its internal
logic. Laws like this begin by protecting individuals from coercion, but they
risk evolving into mechanisms that scrutinize belief itself. One of the most
troubling aspects is the shifting burden of proof. Instead of the state
demonstrating wrongdoing, individuals may be required to prove that their
conversion was neither forced nor induced. But how does one prove belief?
Faith is not an observable object. It cannot be measured, quantified, or
externally verified in any meaningful sense. The moment the state asks for
evidence of sincerity, it enters a domain that is, by its very nature,
interior. At that point, faith is no longer simply lived—it is something to be
justified.
Also
it goes against the very ethics and morality of a law that an individual is ‘guilty
until proven innocent’ and not otherwise. Given the lengthy procedures and
duration of cases in India, an innocent individual can be imprisoned for years
based on a fallacious or malicious complaint. Finally how does one shift the
onus of providing proofs from the accuser to the accused? These are questions worth reflecting by
every citizen of this nation.
Lessons from Indian Philosophical
Traditions
This
tension between authority and conscience is not new, nor is it merely a legal
problem. It is a deeper question about the nature of the human person and the
limits of external authority.
Mahatma
Gandhi understood religion as belonging fundamentally to the interior life. For
him, faith was not primarily about institutional affiliation but about a
personal orientation toward truth and non-violence. Any attempt to impose or
regulate religion externally failed to grasp this essential character. The
state, in Gandhi’s view, lacks the competence to govern what is ultimately a
matter of the heart.
B.
R. Ambedkar approached the issue from the standpoint of justice and dignity.
His conversion to Buddhism was not simply a spiritual decision but a moral
act—an assertion that the human person must be free to reject structures that
deny equality. Conversion, in this sense, becomes an exercise of conscience
against inherited injustice. To restrict that freedom is to undermine the very
agency that makes moral responsibility possible. Taken together, these voices
converge on a shared insight: conscience cannot be legislated without being
diminished.
Faith Cannot Be Policed
At
its core, faith is not a public transaction. It is not a contract, nor a
bureaucratic process. It is a response—often quiet, often deeply personal—to
what one perceives as truth. Within the Christian tradition, faith belongs to
the inner forum of conscience. It is a free response to divine grace,
not an externally verifiable act. To treat it as something that can be
regulated administratively is to misunderstand its very nature. When the state begins to require prior
notice, official approval, or public scrutiny of religious conversion, it
crosses a critical boundary. It moves from governing external actions to
examining internal convictions. This is not a minor procedural shift. It
represents a fundamental redefinition of the limits of authority.
There
is also a deeper paradox at work. The more the state attempts to guarantee the
authenticity of faith through regulation, the more it risks undermining that
authenticity. Faith that must justify itself before authority is no longer
fully free. It becomes conditioned, shaped by external expectations rather than
interior conviction. And that is a space no external authority can fully enter
without distorting it.
The Deeper Question
If
conversions are statistically rare, and if religious composition has remained
stable over decades, then the intensity of legislative focus invites deeper
reflection. Why does this issue command such attention? In societies facing
structural challenges—economic inequality, unemployment, gaps in healthcare and
education—there is often a tendency to focus on issues that are more visible
and emotionally charged. Religion, with its clear identities and boundaries,
becomes one such space.
This
shift is not neutral. It risks transforming religion into a site where broader
anxieties are negotiated, rather than addressing the underlying causes of those
anxieties. The danger lies in allowing such focus to substitute for more
difficult, structural work. In doing so, we risk normalizing a mode of
governance where suspicion becomes routine and deeply personal aspects of life
are drawn into the sphere of regulation.
Looking
at society as a whole, these new legal hurdles could end up trapping people in
old social classes. For many in India, changing one's religion has historically
been a way to claim dignity and leave behind the unfairness of the caste
system. When the government makes it nearly impossible to change faith—using
the fear of punishment or public shame—it risks locking people into the very
systems they are trying to escape. In a way, by making the paperwork so
difficult, the law quietly protects the old 'Varna' divisions instead of
protecting individual freedom.
A Word to Christians
For
Christians, this moment calls for clarity and integrity. Yes, coercion in
matters of faith must always be rejected. It contradicts both the Gospel and
the teaching of the Church. Faith cannot be forced, and any attempt to
manipulate belief undermines its authenticity. But it is equally important to
resist a climate where service is viewed with suspicion, compassion is
misinterpreted, and conscience is subjected to scrutiny.
The
mission of Christianity has never been about numbers. It has always been about
witness—living truthfully, serving freely, and affirming the dignity of every
person. To defend freedom of
conscience is not merely to protect the Church. It is to remain faithful to its
deepest identity.
A Word to Every Citizen
Ultimately,
this issue extends beyond any single religious community. It raises a
fundamental civic question about the relationship between the individual and
the state. Do we want to live in a society where personal belief must be
explained to the state? Modern
democratic life depends on the recognition that certain dimensions of human
existence—thought, belief, conscience—must remain beyond coercive control. Once
these are subjected to approval or verification, their freedom is no longer
intact.
And
once that shift occurs, it rarely remains confined to one domain.
Conclusion: At the Crossroads
We
find ourselves at a quiet but decisive crossroads. One path affirms freedom of
conscience, dignity of choice, and trust in the individual. The other path
risks suspicion, surveillance, and the gradual erosion of liberty. These
changes do not happen dramatically. They unfold slowly—through laws,
administrative practices, and shifting assumptions about what the state is
entitled to regulate. And that is precisely why this moment matters. Not
because of what is loudly declared, but because of what is quietly changing.
References
- Catholic
Church. Catechism of the Catholic Church. Vatican City: Libreria
Editrice Vaticana, 1993.
- Vatican
Council II. Dignitatis Humanae: Declaration on Religious Freedom.
1965.
- Government
of India. Census of India 2011: Religion Data. New Delhi: Office of
the Registrar General.
- Pew
Research Center. Population Growth and Religious Composition in India.
Washington, DC, 2021.
- Mahatma
Gandhi. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi. New Delhi:
Publications Division.
- B.
R. Ambedkar. Annihilation of Caste. 1936.
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