In a video message widely shared on social media, Shaykh Rahmani raised the critical question: “What is the Islamic status of the neighboring country, Pakistan? And given the current situation there, can it truly be said that an Islamic government or Islamic system is functioning?”

He argued that both India and Pakistan operate under similar democratic structures and that Pakistan’s creation in 1947 was driven more by political ambition than by Islamic principles. “Pakistan was not founded on Islamic ideals,” he said. “Those behind the partition were primarily motivated by worldly interests — positions, power, and authority.”

Shaykh Rahmani referenced the position of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, a key figure in India’s independence movement and an influential Islamic thinker, who had strongly opposed the partition of British India.

“Maulana Azad clearly stated that India was our homeland — where we were born and where we would die. That vision remains significant even today,” Rahmani noted, adding that for many Indian Muslims, India continues to be a safer and more stable environment than Pakistan.

Highlighting the deteriorating security situation in Pakistan, he expressed concern over the prevalence of extremist violence.

“We are witnessing a troubling frequency of murders — of children, women, the elderly, and religious scholars. The ideology behind many of these acts is similar to that of the historical Kharijites — a radical sect known for their extremism and violence,” he stated.

Shaykh Rahmani also condemned the use of religious institutions in Pakistan for political purposes. “Mosques and madrasas, which should be centers of learning and spiritual guidance, are being used as shields and platforms for political demands. This is not the way of the Muslim Ummah — it is the path of the Kharijites.”

Calling for a more informed and principled approach, he cautioned Muslims around the world not to be swayed by emotional or romanticized views of Pakistan. “Some may think Pakistan is beneficial for Islam or for Muslims. But history tells us otherwise — scholars have been assassinated, and sacred institutions misused.”

He concluded with a prayer: “Such policies can never be classified as Islamic. They mirror the practices of the Kharijites. May God protect us from all forms of evil and chaos.”

Shaykh Rahmani’s remarks are expected to stir conversation among Muslim communities across South Asia and beyond, especially as debates continue about statehood, religious authority, and the role of faith in governance.

Being Indian First means embracing the idea that our national interests—security, prosperity, and unity—transcend the boundaries of religion, caste, or creed.

As an Indian Muslim and a counterextremism expert, I often find myself at the crossroads of a question that stirs heated debates: Indian First or Muslim First? This question, as I recently tweeted, is not a casual inquiry but a deliberate probe into whether we, as Indian Muslims, prioritize our national identity and the interests of our country over our religious affiliations. It’s a question rooted in history, shaped by the fault lines of our past, and one that demands an honest reckoning.

My answer is unequivocal: Indian First. Always.

This question isn’t about undermining religious beliefs or pushing for a homogenized cultural identity. It’s about recognizing the undeniable reality that religious identity, particularly Islam, has been a significant factor in some of the most divisive moments in our nation’s history.

In 1947, the creation of Pakistan under Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s leadership was driven by the idea that Muslims needed a separate homeland. The partition that followed tore apart the fabric of a united India, leaving scars that still ache. Later, in 1971, the birth of Bangladesh further fragmented the subcontinent.

And in Kashmir, decades of insurgency have been fueled, in part, by the interplay of religious identity and separatist ambitions. These events weren’t merely political—they were seismic shifts where religious identity was weaponized to balkanize our great nation.

Let me be clear: acknowledging this history doesn’t mean vilifying Islam or questioning the faith of millions of Indian Muslims. It means confronting the ways in which religious identity has, at times, been manipulated to prioritize “biradari”—our brethren—over the nation.

This manipulation isn’t unique to Islam; it’s a tactic used across communities to sow division. But as Indian Muslims, we must ask ourselves: can we allow our religious identity to supersede our loyalty to the nation that nurtures us, protects us, and gives us a shared future?

Choosing “Indian First” doesn’t mean abandoning our faith. I am a proud Muslim, and my religious beliefs guide my values and my sense of purpose. But faith is personal—it’s a compass for the soul, not a blueprint for national policy.

When we prioritize our religious identity over our national one, we risk falling into the trap of exclusionary thinking, where “us” versus “them” becomes the lens through which we see the world. That mindset fuels mistrust, alienates communities, and weakens the pluralistic ethos that makes India unique.

Being Indian First means embracing the idea that our national interests—security, prosperity, and unity—transcend the boundaries of religion, caste, or creed. It means recognizing that the progress of our nation benefits us all, regardless of our personal beliefs. It’s about standing firm against any ideology, whether rooted in religion or otherwise, that seeks to divide us. This choice doesn’t dilute our identity as Muslims; it strengthens our role as stakeholders in India’s future.

The question of “Indian First or Muslim First?” also carries a broader lesson for all Indians. In a country as diverse as ours, every community faces moments where loyalty to a subgroup—whether religious, linguistic, or regional—can clash with the greater good. The answer lies in choosing the nation over narrower affiliations, not because we must erase our differences, but because our differences thrive best under the umbrella of a united India.

My work has taught me that extremism often begins with the elevation of one identity over others, creating a hierarchy of loyalty that erodes shared purpose. In India, we have the chance to reject that path. We can build a future where our diversity is our strength, not our fault line.

So, when asked, I say: Indian First. Always. Not because I love my faith any less, but because I love my country enough to know that its unity is our greatest asset. Let’s choose a nation that stands tall, not one divided by the echoes of 1947. Let’s choose India—together.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Speaking at the Convention for Overseas Pakistanis in Islamabad—with Prime Minister Shahbaz Sharif in attendance—General Munir declared that Pakistan was created on the basis of “every possible difference” between the two religious communities.

“Our religion is different. Our customs are different. Our traditions are different. Our thoughts are different. Our ambitions are different,” Munir said, invoking the ideological foundation laid by Muhammad Ali Jinnah in the 1940s. “You must tell this to your children so that they never forget the story of Pakistan.”

But this “story” is not just about differences—it’s a carefully preserved narrative used by Pakistan’s military establishment to maintain a stranglehold on power, distract the public from economic failures, and perpetuate enmity with India. It is a story that has long come at the cost of regional peace, minority rights, and Pakistan’s own internal harmony.

Munir’s speech, delivered with a religious tone befitting his reputation as a “Hafiz-e-Quran”, did little to hide the Army’s obsession with defining Pakistan solely through what it is not—India. His remarks reflected the establishment’s enduring dependence on the ideological rhetoric of 1947, a time when the wounds of Partition were still fresh, and the world had not yet seen the consequences of such rigid identity politics.

A Doctrine Past Its Expiry Date

The Two-Nation Theory has not aged well. If anything, it collapsed under its own contradictions in 1971, when Bangladesh—originally East Pakistan—broke away in a bloody war that exposed the myth of religious unity. Despite sharing the same religion, East Pakistanis rejected the economic and political dominance of West Pakistan, shattering the illusion that Islam alone could form a cohesive national identity.

And yet, here we are in 2025, with the head of Pakistan’s most powerful institution lecturing overseas citizens to hold tight to that expired ideology. What purpose does this serve, other than reinforcing xenophobia, hostility, and a warped sense of nationalism rooted in exclusion and antagonism?

Critics across the globe have not held back. Indian strategic expert Aditya Raj Kaul accused Munir of “exposing his hate for Hindus and India,” while prominent Pakistani journalist Taha Siddiqui called the remarks an attempt to “brainwash youth” with dangerous falsehoods.

Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma called the speech a reminder of the stark ideological divide between the two nations, urging India to stop harboring illusions about reconciliation with its western neighbor.

The Real Jugular: The Army’s Grip on Pakistan

Munir’s speech also touched on Pakistan’s usual talking points—Kashmir and Balochistan. His threat-laced comments about Baloch rebels further illustrated how the military sees dissent as terrorism, rather than a call for justice. Kashmir, once again called Pakistan’s “jugular vein,” is less a heartfelt issue and more a strategic tool—one that sustains the military’s budget, influence, and unchallenged supremacy in Pakistan’s political life.

As Delhi-based journalist Rishi Suri rightly pointed out, Kashmir has become more of a “business model” for Pakistan’s generals than a national cause. Strategic analyst Sonam Mahajan summed it up bluntly, “Kashmir is Pakistan’s jugular vein, which explains why Pakistan has been in the ICU for 78 years, sustained only by IMF oxygen and jihadist morphine.”

An Unyielding Establishment in a Changing World

The tragedy of General Munir’s speech is that it wasn’t surprising. It’s the same tired script the Pakistan Army has relied on for decades—where religion is used to unify, enemies are used to justify military supremacy, and history is rewritten to prevent progress.

Pakistan’s establishment had a choice. It could have embraced a narrative of peace, coexistence, and modern statehood. Instead, it chose to double down on identity politics rooted in fear and historical grievances.

By clinging to an outdated and divisive ideology, General Asim Munir and the Pakistan military aren’t just looking backward—they’re actively obstructing the possibility of a forward-looking, inclusive, and stable Pakistan.

And perhaps that is by design. Because in a truly democratic and progressive Pakistan, the Army might no longer be the most powerful voice in the room.