The politics of beef, identity and majoritarianism in India

By Ram Puniyani 

The Bharatiya Janata Party’s rise to power in West Bengal, amid allegations of electoral manipulation and institutional silence, has generated deep anxiety among the state’s Muslim minority. Reports of detention centres being planned in districts for alleged Bangladeshi infiltrators, alongside symbolic assertions of majoritarian politics, have further sharpened fears among vulnerable communities.

Yet one of the most striking developments in the state has emerged around the politics of cow protection and beef consumption. As Eid approached, Hindu farmers and cattle owners brought cows and bulls to markets expecting the usual demand. Instead, many found there were no buyers. Large sections of the Muslim community collectively decided not to sacrifice cows during Eid. From leaders of the Jamaat-e-Islami Hind to politicians such as Asaduddin Owaisi, several Muslim voices even demanded that the cow be declared India’s national animal in place of the tiger.

In many cattle markets, Muslims reportedly told Hindu sellers, “If the cow is your mother, keep her at home.” The immediate victims of this situation are poor peasants who rear cattle with the expectation of selling them during Eid to sustain their livelihoods. Their economic calculations have collapsed under the weight of identity politics.

This development must be viewed against the backdrop of years of mob violence carried out in the name of cow protection. From the lynching of Mohammad Akhlaq to the killing of Junaid Khan, scores of Muslims and Dalits have lost their lives in cow-related violence over the last decade. According to IndiaSpend data, dozens were killed between 2014 and 2018 alone.

One also recalls the infamous Una incident in Gujarat, where Dalits skinning dead cows were publicly flogged by self-styled cow vigilantes. The episode gave rise to the political prominence of Jignesh Mevani, who campaigned against caste oppression and demanded land rights for Dalits.

The atmosphere created by vigilante groups, often seen as enjoying political protection and ideological encouragement from the Sangh Parivar, has had far-reaching consequences. Several religious figures went so far as to claim that the life of a cow was more valuable than that of human beings. Commercial exploitation also entered the arena. Yoga entrepreneur Baba Ramdev promoted cow-based products extensively, while BJP spokesperson Sambit Patra once remarked that cow dung was more valuable than diamonds. Ironically, Patra himself is trained in modern medicine.

At one point, even a professor in Gujarat reportedly claimed that cow urine contains gold — a bizarre assertion that nevertheless received public attention.

Ironically, the latest collective response from sections of the Muslim community has once again hurt poor Hindu farmers the most. The larger question now is whether the Hindutva establishment will actually move towards declaring the cow a national animal. If that happens, another set of interests may be affected — the large beef export businesses, many of which are owned not by Muslims but by influential Hindu and Jain business families.

Among the major players in India’s meat export industry are companies such as Al Kabeer Exports Pvt. Ltd., associated with the Sabharwal family; Arabian Exports Pvt. Ltd., linked to the Kapoor family; M.K.R. Frozen Food Exports Pvt. Ltd.; and P.M.L Industries Pvt. Ltd..

Parallel to this politics of cow protection is a growing cultural stigma attached to non-vegetarian food itself. Yet India remains overwhelmingly non-vegetarian in dietary practice. Beef consumption is common in states such as Kerala, Goa, and across the North East. Fish dominates coastal cuisines, while mutton and chicken are widely consumed across regions and communities.

Popular stereotypes also collapse under scrutiny. It is often assumed that Brahmins are uniformly vegetarian. Yet Kashmiri Pandits have a rich tradition of mutton-based cuisine, including the celebrated Rogan Josh. Many Brahmin communities in Bihar too consume meat regularly.

The diversity of India’s food habits stands in sharp contrast to the simplified narratives propagated through communal politics. Muslims are often portrayed as uniquely meat-eating and therefore inherently violent. Such stereotypes become tools for demonisation.

Food identity increasingly entered electoral discourse in West Bengal. During the assembly election campaign, Mamata Banerjee warned that under BJP rule Bengal’s beloved “machh-bhaat” culture would come under threat. In response, Union Minister Anurag Thakur released videos of himself eating fish and rice to argue that BJP-ruled states imposed no restrictions on non-vegetarian food. Even Prime Minister Narendra Modi publicly consumed jhal muri during campaign events to signal cultural affinity with Bengal.

Indian politics has thus descended into competitive symbolism over food habits, while deeper economic and social anxieties remain unresolved. The tragedy is that vulnerable minorities continue to bear the burden of hate campaigns while political actors indulge in performative cultural gestures.

The attempt to associate dietary habits with moral or violent tendencies is historically untenable. One only has to remember that Adolf Hitler, responsible for one of history’s greatest genocides, reportedly adopted vegetarianism later in life.

In the midst of triumphalist narratives and majoritarian politics, many also forget that Swami Vivekananda himself stated during a lecture in California in 1900:

“You will be astonished if I tell you that, according to old ceremonials, he is not a good Hindu who does not eat beef. On certain occasions he must sacrifice a bull and eat it.”

Similarly, Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, one of the principal ideologues of Hindu nationalism, had clearly argued that the cow was not a holy animal but merely a useful one.

The politics of cow protection, therefore, reveals less about faith and far more about power, identity, and the manipulation of social anxieties. West Bengal’s recent experience demonstrates how deeply communal politics can shape public discourse — even around something as personal and diverse as food.