Why defending Manusmriti today is an attack on women’s equality

By Mohd. Ziyaullah Khan 

Ever since Leader of the Opposition Rahul Gandhi spoke to female students in Maharashtra on August 22, 2026, urging them to “smash patriarchy” and reject the “Manusmriti mindset,” a storm has erupted in BJP circles. His assertion that women belong to themselves—not to their fathers, husbands or sons—has provoked a predictable rush among BJP supporters to defend the Manusmriti. This should surprise no one. For years, the politics of cultural nationalism has selectively elevated ancient texts as symbols of civilisational pride. But reverence becomes dangerous when it collides with the foundational values of a modern democracy.

The question is straightforward: Can a document steeped in patriarchal, discriminatory and caste-based ideas be defended without defending those ideas themselves? For millions of Indian women, the answer is an unequivocal no.

The problem with the Manusmriti is not confined to a handful of controversial verses. Critics have long pointed to passages that deny women autonomy, subordinate them to male guardianship, restrict their social and educational freedoms, and view them through a lens of inherent inequality. One of the most cited verses, Manusmriti 5.148, declares that a woman must remain under the protection of her father in childhood, her husband in youth and her sons in old age—and that she should never be independent.

Think about what that means in a modern democracy. A woman, according to this worldview, cannot be the master of her own life. Her father decides for her. Then her husband. Then her sons. Her freedom is not a right but a threat to be controlled. Is this the India BJP leaders and supporters want to defend?

Other passages portray women as naturally untrustworthy, sexually tempting or requiring constant supervision. These ideas did not remain confined to ancient manuscripts; they shaped societies where women were denied education, independence and equal decision-making. Some verses even suggest that women, by their mere presence, can corrupt or mislead men. In this worldview, male behaviour is blamed on women, and women are punished for men’s failures.

The absurdity is obvious. A man cannot control himself, so the woman must be restricted. A man commits wrongdoing, so the woman must be blamed. A woman seeks freedom, so she must be placed under supervision. This is not morality. It is patriarchy masquerading as social order.

The Manusmriti has also been criticised for its prescriptions on women’s access to property, education and social status. In a society where constitutional equality defines citizenship, defending a text rooted in rigid hierarchies of gender and caste should raise serious concern. India did not become a modern republic by treating ancient social codes as permanent commandments. It progressed because reformers challenged them.

When Raja Ram Mohan Roy fought against Sati, defenders of tradition resisted him. When reformers confronted child marriage, caste discrimination and the denial of education to women, they too were told that ancient customs were beyond criticism. Should they have remained silent simply because other religions and communities had their own social evils? Of course not. That is why the argument, “Why only talk about Manusmriti? What about other religions?” is not merely childish—it is a deliberate attempt to change the subject.

If one is discussing Sati, injustices elsewhere do not justify Sati. If one is discussing caste discrimination, discrimination in another society does not make caste discrimination acceptable. And if one is discussing misogynistic passages in the Manusmriti, pointing to flaws in other religions does not magically transform those passages into progressive ideas. Wrong is wrong.

The Constitution of India does not ask citizens to defend every word written in every ancient text. Nor should political parties exploit selective tradition while ignoring constitutional morality. Women today are doctors, scientists, lawyers, judges, entrepreneurs, political leaders, soldiers, journalists and heads of institutions. They own property, run businesses, make independent decisions and shape their own futures.

Would anyone seriously argue that these women should return to a system where their lives must remain permanently under the “protection” of fathers, husbands and sons? If not, why defend the Manusmriti so aggressively?

Perhaps because this debate is no longer about an ancient text. It is about politics. There is a growing tendency to treat criticism of a particular tradition as an attack on an entire religion or civilisation. This is intellectually dishonest. Every civilisation has texts that deserve respect, texts that deserve reinterpretation and texts that deserve rejection. Civilisation does not weaken when it confronts its own mistakes. It strengthens.

The BJP and its supporters must answer a fundamental question: Are they defending the Manusmriti as a historical document, or are they defending its social philosophy? If it is merely history, nobody is asking for erasure. But if they are defending its discriminatory prescriptions, they are contradicting the spirit of modern India.

The Constitution guarantees equality. It recognises the dignity of women. It does not declare that a woman must remain dependent on her father, husband or son. It does not treat women as property. It does not deny them education, autonomy or inheritance. It does not place women below men. That is the difference between an ancient social code and a modern constitutional democracy.

The anger surrounding the defence of Manusmriti is therefore understandable. What woman would not feel outraged when confronted with ideas suggesting she cannot be trusted with her own freedom, decisions and life? Yet instead of addressing these disturbing ideas honestly, defenders attempt to divert the debate. “Other religions have similar problems.” So what? Does that make misogyny acceptable? Does patriarchy elsewhere justify patriarchy here?

By that logic, Raja Ram Mohan Roy should never have opposed Sati because other societies had injustices. B.R. Ambedkar should never have challenged caste because discrimination existed elsewhere. Social reform has never worked that way. Reform begins when people have the courage to say: This is wrong, even if it belongs to my own tradition. That is the real test of moral courage.

The problem is not history. The problem is the attempt to convert regressive history into present-day politics. India does not need to choose between its civilisation and its Constitution. But whenever the two are placed in conflict, the answer must be clear: The dignity of a living woman matters more than the unquestionable authority of an ancient text.

If BJP supporters truly believe in the Constitution, in women’s empowerment and in Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao, they cannot selectively celebrate the Manusmriti while ignoring the deeply regressive ideas associated with it. India has moved forward. The question is: Why are some people still trying to drag its women backwards?

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Mohd. Ziyaullah Khan is a freelance content writer and editor based in Nagpur. He is also an activist and social entrepreneur, and cofounder of TruthScape, a team of digital activists fighting disinformation on social media