The recent statement by Asaduddin Owaisi that “Muslims do not need Gandhi and Nehru” has predictably sparked outrage, with critics swiftly linking it to Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s separatist ideology. But is this interpretation fair when the larger context of his remarks is ignored? More importantly, the controversy obscures a more fundamental question: why do many self-proclaimed secular voices continue to overlook Muslim freedom fighters such as Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Maulana Mahmud Hasan, and Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar?
The debate is not simply about parsing a politician’s statement; it raises uncomfortable questions about how India remembers its freedom struggle and whether its understanding of secularism adequately recognises the contributions of leaders from all communities.
Addressing a gathering in Azamgarh, Uttar Pradesh, Owaisi was actually questioning the idea that Muslims should support particular political leaders in the hope that another Gandhi or Nehru would emerge to represent them. He asked why another Azad, Mahmud Hasan, Hifzur Rahman, Maulvi Ismail, or Muhammad Ali Jauhar could not emerge from the community, reminding his audience of the freedom fighters who had sacrificed everything for India’s independence. His central message was that Muslims should become leaders in their own right rather than depend on others. Yet, critics fixated on a decontextualised phrase, ignoring his wider argument about political leadership. Mentioning Muslim freedom fighters does not, by itself, amount to endorsing Jinnah’s ideology, so one must ask why recalling these figures is so readily interpreted as a rejection of secularism.
This defensiveness becomes glaringly obvious when we examine India’s public memory of the freedom struggle. The national narrative prominently and rightfully features Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, B. R. Ambedkar, Bhagat Singh, and Subhas Chandra Bose. However, the relative absence of many Muslim freedom fighters from public spaces and popular narratives raises serious questions about the inclusiveness of that remembrance. Personalities like Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Maulana Mahmud Hasan, Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar, Maulana Shaukat Ali, Maulana Hussain Ahmad Madani, Dr Mukhtar Ahmad Ansari, and Maulvi Ismail were deeply associated with the freedom movement, yet their names rarely receive the same visibility in mainstream public spaces.
While Azad and Ashfaqulla Khan are sometimes remembered, particularly during national celebrations or when addressing Muslim audiences, the broader range of Muslim contributions remains outside the everyday public conversation. Photographs of prominent political figures adorn government offices, educational institutions, and organisational headquarters, but Muslim freedom fighters are less consistently represented. The problem becomes clearer when we compare the representation of freedom fighters across political and social organisations. Many organisations identified with secular politics prominently display photographs of Gandhi, Nehru, Patel, Ambedkar, and Bhagat Singh, while right-wing organisations feature figures like Shyama Prasad Mukherjee, Madan Mohan Malaviya, and V. D. Savarkar.
Meanwhile, Muslim educational and social institutions often display photographs of both Muslim and non-Muslim freedom fighters, suggesting that the remembrance of national leaders need not be restricted by religious identity. The concern is not that Gandhi or Nehru receive recognition, but that other significant personalities are excluded from the same collective memory.
This selective remembrance is closely tied to another dimension of the controversy: the right of communities to organise politically and demand representation. India has numerous political leaders and parties that mobilise support around caste, regional identity, language, and community interests. Leaders like Mayawati, Kanshi Ram, Akhilesh Yadav, and Tejashwi Yadav have built massive political movements addressing the concerns of particular social groups. Yet, when Muslim leaders like Owaisi advocate for independent political representation, they are frequently accused of promoting communal politics or invoking Jinnah’s legacy.
The distinction between political representation and communal hostility deserves careful consideration. Muslims, like other citizens, have the right to participate in elections, establish political organisations, and raise issues affecting their communities. Whether a particular party's approach is inclusive or divisive should be assessed through its stated objectives and conduct, rather than assumed solely from the identity of its supporters.
The importance of community-specific historical figures can be easily understood through the example of Dalit and regional political movements. For many Dalits, Dr B. R. Ambedkar is a central source of inspiration, and Kanshi Ram holds a significant place in their political mobilisation. Similarly, Mahatma Jyotirao Phule remains an important figure in the struggle against caste discrimination, while Periyar E. V. Ramasamy has played a defining role in South Indian social and political thought.
Recognising these figures does not make their followers less committed to the country or its constitutional values; it simply reflects the importance of historical experiences in shaping political identity. Muslims should have the exact same freedom to draw inspiration from Maulana Azad, Maulana Mahmud Hasan, and Muhammad Ali Jauhar without automatically being labelled communal or anti-national. Secularism should not require every community to adopt the exact same historical heroes.
Consider a simple, everyday example: the photographs displayed on the walls of offices and public spaces. A photograph of Gandhi alongside Ambedkar, Nehru, or Bhagat Singh rarely attracts attention; these combinations have become familiar, unquestioned symbols of India's political heritage. But what if Maulana Abul Kalam Azad appeared alongside them? Would a photograph of Ambedkar and Maulana Azad, or Azad alongside Muhammad Ali Jauhar, be considered equally ordinary? If such combinations appear unusual to some people, it is worth asking why.
Azad was a prominent leader of the Indian National Congress and a fierce opponent of the partition of India. His political legacy, along with that of other Muslim figures who participated in the independence movement, deserves to be discussed and displayed alongside those of other major national leaders, regardless of whether the audience is predominantly Muslim.
Ultimately, the controversy surrounding Owaisi’s remarks forces us to reconsider the meaning of secularism in India. A genuinely inclusive understanding of secularism should allow people to admire Gandhi, Nehru, Ambedkar, Bose, or Bhagat Singh without being expected to rank one above the others, just as it should allow Muslims to regard Azad or Mahmud Hasan as their greatest sources of inspiration. This does not mean historical figures should be exempt from critical examination, but criticism must be based on what leaders actually say and do, rather than on assumptions arising from their religious identities. India's freedom struggle was shaped by people with different religious beliefs, political philosophies, and social backgrounds, and remembering that diversity strengthens our historical narrative.
For some, Gandhi may be the greatest leader; for others, it may be Nehru, Ambedkar, Bhagat Singh, or Maulana Azad. A plural society must make room for these differences. The question, therefore, is not whether Muslims need Gandhi and Nehru. It is whether India’s understanding of secularism is mature enough to fully acknowledge and celebrate all those who fought for its freedom.
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Mohd. Ziyaullah Khan is a freelance content writer and editor based in Nagpur. He is an activist and social entrepreneur, and the co-founder of TruthScape, a team of digital activists fighting disinformation on social media
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