The Indian armed forces have long occupied a rare space of public trust in a democracy otherwise marked by fractious contestation. Their institutional self-image as professional, apolitical, and secular has historically been shaped by what sociologist Rajni Kothari described as India’s “centrist consensus,” in which the military remained outside partisan currents even as politics churned. Yet recent developments, highlighted by reports of growing Hindu nationalist symbolism and political proximity at senior levels, suggest a troubling drift. If true, the phenomenon often described as the “saffronization” of India’s military marks a departure of profound consequence.

At the heart of the concern is not the presence of religion in the personal lives of soldiers, for faith has long sustained those who serve in extreme hardship. The problem lies in the increasing use of religious imagery, ritual, and ideological references in official military spaces and actions. The replacement of a 1971 war painting in the Indian Army Chief’s lounge with Karam Kshetra, a tableau featuring Hindu mythological figures alongside modern military hardware, is emblematic of this shift. The painting does not merely adorn a wall. It symbolically signals where the moral universe of the military is being encouraged to anchor itself. When Shiva or Krishna enter command corridors, whether as aesthetic motifs or ideological markers, they carry the weight of majoritarian political meaning in today’s India.

Ideological And Cultural Tilts

Symbols are not benign. Consider the unveiling of a statue of Chhatrapati Shivaji, an undeniably important historical figure but also a contemporary icon embraced by Hindu nationalist politics, near Pangong Tso, a frontline region in Ladakh. Flanked by a saffron flag, the installation transforms a strategic space into a cultural assertion. While Shivaji’s legacy is part of India’s history, the choice of his statue, in that place and in that moment, blurs the line between national symbolism and partisan religious identity.

The public participation of senior officers in Hindu ceremonies, such as visits to ashrams, attendance at religious events, and state-funded pilgrimages, adds another layer to this shift. These acts take on political significance in a context where the ruling party explicitly centers Hindu majoritarian narratives. Political theorist Samuel Huntington argued in The Soldier and the State that professionalism in the military requires what he called objective civilian control, meaning armies remain politically neutral and do not seek ideological alignment with civilian leadership. When top military leadership participates in activities associated with the ideology of the ruling party, the line between loyalty to the constitution and loyalty to the political establishment becomes increasingly faint.

Naming military operations after Hindu religious terms such as “Sindoor” or “Mahadev” reinforces this ideological tilt. Historically, Indian military operations have used secular, region-neutral, or operationally descriptive names. The shift toward explicitly religious titles is both symbolically and politically loaded. Operation names are not mere labels. They shape public perception and influence how soldiers themselves understand the mission. When those names resonate exclusively with the majority religion, they risk alienating minority officers and citizens, and they project ideological intent to observers abroad.

Secular Professionalism A Operational Necessity

Equally concerning are reports from minority officers who describe pressure to conform to Hindu rituals. If such reports are accurate, this represents cultural homogenization that borders on institutional coercion, a direct challenge to India’s constitutional promise of equality. A military that pressures its own members to perform religious acts cannot credibly claim to treat all citizens neutrally.

The Agnipath scheme adds a structural dimension. By recruiting short-term personnel in large numbers, with reports of growing influence from Hindu nationalist feeder networks, the scheme risks altering the ideological composition of the forces over time. Militaries are shaped as much by the social base of their recruits as by their training. If that base becomes ideologically skewed, the character of the institution is likely to follow.

India’s own history provides important context. The founding generation, including Nehru, Ambedkar, and Rajagopalachari, placed immense emphasis on keeping the armed forces above sectarian identity. Ambedkar argued that the military must embody what he called constitutional morality rather than cultural majoritarianism. Even during periods of political upheaval, including the linguistic reorganization of states or the authoritarian emergency rule in the mid-seventies, the armed forces maintained institutional distance from the ideology of the ruling party. That restraint was not accidental. It was cultivated through deliberate norms and institutional design.

Political scientist Morris Janowitz noted that military cohesion is built on shared values, not on enforced cultural uniformity. When personnel from different faiths and communities feel equally represented, the institution projects strength. When they feel pressured to conform to the identity of the majority, it projects fragility. In a country as diverse as India, secular professionalism is not a luxury. It is an operational necessity.

Dangers Not Abstract

This is not an argument against the personal faith of soldiers, nor a denial of the cultural identity of the majority. It is an argument for institutional restraint, for secular professionalism, and for recognizing that the military must represent all Indians, not only the largest community or the ruling party’s ideological core.

The creeping saffronization of the armed forces, if left unchecked, risks transforming one of India’s most trusted institutions into an extension of political power. The dangers are not abstract. They strike at the heart of democratic stability. A military that becomes aligned with a political ideology ceases to be the nation’s military. It becomes the state’s military, and eventually, the party’s military.

(The author is a political analyst and columnist with a deep interest in South Asian geopolitics, international diplomacy and policy reform. He graduated from King's College London with a focus in global governance and is passionate about narrowing the disparity among academia and policy making.  Views expressed are personal. He can be contacted at aaravsharmaa245@gmail.com)