In the streets of India, from Kerala to Kashmir, the voices raised for the people of Palestine have been loud and passionate. Placards fly high, slogans echo through lanes, and social media feeds overflow with solidarity hashtags. But the same streets fall eerily silent when it comes to mourning the victims of terror in their own homeland or addressing the plight of persecuted communities in neighboring nations. This glaring contrast in response begs the question: Is outrage in India becoming selectively curated?
Just yesterday, a horrifying terror attack in the picturesque Baisaran Valley of Pahalgam, Jammu and Kashmir, claimed the lives of 26 innocent Indian tourists. The militant group that took responsibility did not spare even the families who had come seeking peace in the valley. Yet, the national conversation remained muted. No candlelight vigils, no trending hashtags, no emotional appeals—at least not from the sections that vigorously advocate for justice abroad.
A similar disheartening silence follows the recurring reports from Bangladesh, where the Hindu minority community continues to suffer violence, discrimination, and displacement. After the political shift in Dhaka, Hindus, often seen as sympathetic to India, have faced mob attacks, temple demolitions, and forced conversions. Where, then, are the same Indian voices that champion justice and humanity?
This is not to belittle the Palestinian cause. Solidarity with oppressed peoples—wherever they may be—is both admirable and necessary. But when activism chooses its causes based on religious or political affinity, rather than on universal principles of justice and human rights, it ceases to be meaningful. Instead, it becomes a tool—one that divides rather than unites, one that manipulates rather than liberates.
Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath and several political commentators have rightly pointed out the double standards at play. The inconsistency is not just about silence—it’s about a selective moral compass. The discomfort of calling out violence against one’s own community or acknowledging homegrown extremism cannot be masked by outward displays of global empathy.
Activism cannot—and should not—be seasonal, fashionable, or filtered through sectarian lenses. India needs its youth, its intelligentsia, and its civil society to show equal urgency when it comes to injustices committed within its borders. A life lost in Kashmir deserves the same compassion as one lost in Gaza. A desecrated temple in Bangladesh deserves the same outrage as a bombed school in Rafah.
If we are truly to be a nation of conscience, then that conscience must be consistent. It must cry for every mother who loses a child to violence—whether she lives in Srinagar or in Jenin, in Sylhet or in Sderot.
Injustice anywhere is indeed a threat to justice everywhere. But silence—when it is convenient—is a far greater threat.
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