On April 5, 2025, the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 received Presidential assent and became binding law. What was introduced as a set of administrative reforms has, in reality, made sweeping changes to the legal framework governing waqf properties—assets that have, for centuries, formed the backbone of religious, charitable, and welfare activities in India’s Muslim community. These properties, once dedicated as waqf, are intended to remain forever devoted to the service of the public through mosques, schools, graveyards, hospitals, orphanages, and other such institutions. The waqf system is rooted in a deep religious tradition that treats such property not as personal or transferable wealth, but as a perpetual endowment—a trust in the service of God and society. By enacting this amendment, the state has imposed new controls and conditions on the management of these properties, and in doing so, it has stirred serious constitutional and ethical concerns that go to the very heart of India’s secular and democratic fabric.
One of the most significant and contentious aspects of this new law is its requirement that non-Muslim members be included in the governing bodies responsible for waqf administration. Until now, both the Central Waqf Council and the various State Waqf Boards have been comprised solely of Muslims, based on the reasonable and well-understood logic that a religious endowment grounded in Islamic jurisprudence should be managed by those who understand and adhere to that faith. Waqf is not a neutral asset; its creation, governance, and purpose are tied directly to religious doctrine. By mandating the inclusion of individuals from outside the Muslim faith into the core decision-making process, the law interferes with the internal affairs of a religious community in a way that is unprecedented, discriminatory, and constitutionally unsound.
This move strikes directly at the heart of Article 26 of the Constitution of India, which guarantees to every religious denomination the right to manage its own affairs in matters of religion. This right is not conditional on state approval; it is an autonomous space protected from majoritarian control. The state, in its role as a secular entity, has no business deciding how a religious body should govern itself, unless there is clear evidence of harm or illegality. In this case, the inclusion of non-Muslims is not based on any identified abuse or failure of the waqf system, but on a vague desire to “reform” or “standardize” it—standards that are not being imposed on other religious communities. Hindu temples are not required to appoint non-Hindus to their trust boards. Christian churches and Sikh gurdwaras are not compelled to allow outsiders into their governing bodies. Only the Muslim community is being asked to alter its religious institutions in a way that directly contradicts its religious principles and institutional independence. This selective interference makes a mockery of the secular ideal.
The principle of secularism, which is a part of the basic structure of the Indian Constitution, requires that the state maintain an equal distance from all religions. Secularism does not mean that the state should suppress religion—it means the state must avoid interfering in religious matters and must treat all faiths with the same degree of respect and restraint. The Waqf (Amendment) Act violates this principle by singling out one religious community and placing its institutions under conditions that others are not subject to. Far from being a neutral act of reform, the law appears to be based on an assumption that Muslim religious institutions require special oversight or control, while others are allowed to function autonomously. This is not secular governance—it is a form of state favoritism and distrust that targets one community under the guise of administrative reform.
The inequality is further compounded when we consider Article 14, which promises all persons equality before the law and equal protection of the laws. Any law that treats one group differently from others must be based on an intelligible classification and must have a rational connection to a legitimate objective. Here, the law applies intrusive controls only to Muslim endowments, without any demonstrated reason why waqf institutions uniquely require such measures. If transparency, accountability, or efficiency are the goals, then all religious and charitable trusts—regardless of religion—should be subject to the same standards. By applying special burdens only on waqf institutions, the law creates a classification that is both arbitrary and unconstitutional. This kind of discrimination violates the very spirit of equal treatment that the Constitution guarantees and erodes public faith in the neutrality of the legal system.
Equally troubling is the Act’s transfer of adjudicatory power from Waqf Tribunals to ordinary government officers in determining whether a property is waqf or not. Previously, such matters were heard by specialized tribunals that, although imperfect, at least functioned as quasi-judicial bodies with some familiarity with Islamic law and waqf practice. The new law hands this power over to revenue officials, such as district magistrates or collectors—executive agents of the state who lack judicial independence and religious expertise. This move not only politicizes the process but also weakens due process protections. Under Article 21, no person shall be deprived of life or personal liberty except according to a procedure established by law. And over decades of jurisprudence, the Supreme Court has clarified that this procedure must be just, fair, and reasonable—not arbitrary, opaque, or biased.
Giving government officers the final say in disputes over religious property strips away this fairness. Such decisions are likely to be influenced by political pressure, land-use priorities, or personal prejudice. In a country where land is scarce and waqf properties are often located in prime areas, this opens the door to massive misuse. Communities could lose control over mosques, schools, or graveyards not because of any legal fault, but because a bureaucrat deemed the land to be non-waqf. The loss here is not only of real estate, but of identity, heritage, and sacred space. Due process is reduced to a formality, and fundamental rights are rendered meaningless in practice.
Another devastating consequence of the new law is its removal of waqf property’s exemption from the Limitation Act, 1963, thereby allowing adverse possession to extinguish waqf claims. Under the previous regime, waqf land could not be lost merely because someone had occupied it for twelve years without contest. The reason was clear: waqf property is held in trust not for the trustee, but for the public—specifically for religious or charitable use. It is not like private property that a person can forget to protect. The very purpose of waqf is continuity and perpetuity. By making it subject to adverse possession, the new law effectively allows waqf land to be stolen through encroachment, and then legalized through bureaucratic inaction. In many cases, waqf boards lack the resources to track or litigate every piece of land. Under this regime, they will now also lose land they cannot immediately recover, even if it was wrongfully taken. This violates not only religious trust but also the constitutional right to property under Article 300A, which protects individuals and communities from being deprived of their property without legal authority. The irony is that the very law intended to regulate waqf may now become the means by which waqf property is legally lost forever.
In addition to all of this, the law demands that waqf properties must have formal documentation—a registered waqfnama—to be recognized. While this might seem like a logical administrative requirement, in practice, it means that a vast number of older waqf properties will be excluded from the official record simply because they were established in an era when documentation was rare. Many waqf lands are known by local custom, oral tradition, and continued community use. To now require them to produce written deeds is to apply modern bureaucratic standards to historical realities, with disastrous consequences. This not only undermines the protection of genuine waqf assets but also punishes communities for their historical poverty or illiteracy.
Altogether, the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 is not a minor regulatory adjustment—it is a profound disruption of constitutional norms, legal protections, and secular principles. It treats Muslim institutions differently from others, burdens them with special restrictions, exposes them to state interference, and deprives them of rights that other communities take for granted. It violates Article 14’s promise of equality, Article 21’s guarantee of fair process, Article 26’s assurance of religious autonomy, and Article 300A’s protection of property. It also departs from the spirit of secularism by casting the state not as a neutral guardian, but as an active participant in the internal affairs of one particular faith.
The dangers of this law are not hypothetical. They will be felt in everyday ways—when a mosque is lost to encroachment, when a waqf school is shut due to lack of recognition, when a community can no longer bury its dead in ancestral graveyards, or when an honest mutawalli (trustee) is replaced by a politically connected appointee. The consequences will be deeply human, and often irreversible.
If India is to remain true to its founding ideals—of pluralism, equality, justice, and secular governance—then laws like the Waqf (Amendment) Act must be reconsidered and challenged. The rights of religious communities cannot be made subject to the convenience of the state. They cannot be taken away quietly, under the pretext of reform. Constitutional rights are not privileges—they are guarantees. And they must be defended, especially when it is unpopular, inconvenient, or politically costly to do so. The Constitution does not allow for second-class rights, and it does not recognize second-class citizens. That must include the Muslim community, and it must include the institutions it holds sacred.All reactions:
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