Inside The Rightward Drift Of Kerala’s Syrian Christians
Once known for its secularism and high levels of literacy and political consciousness, the Indian state of Kerala is witnessing a quiet but significant ideological shift — one surfacing not only in its mainstream politics but also within its religious communities. Among the most notable of these shifts is the slow but visible tilt of a section of Syrian Christians toward right-wing Hindu nationalism, a movement historically antithetical to Christian identity in India.
While the Bharatiya Janata Party has long struggled to make electoral inroads in Kerala — dominated by the Left Democratic Front and the United Democratic Front — recent years have seen attempts at rapprochement between the BJP and parts of the Christian clergy. Social media rhetoric, open statements by church leaders and ideological alignments with Hindu nationalism causes are no longer isolated incidents but part of a growing pattern.
For Jelwin Varghese, who grew up in a multi-religious village in central Kerala and is a student of humanities, religion was not a dividing force in childhood friendships.
READ: Dalit Christians Using Social Media To Challenge Caste Oppression
“But in family gatherings and religious spaces, there was a different story,” he says. “Islamophobia and casteism were deeply ingrained. Syrian Catholics often believed they were upper caste Hindu converts, and this was evident in how they looked down on daily wage workers and Dalit Christians,” Varghese said
Jelwin describes his upbringing as steeped in myths, fear-mongering, and a sense of religious exclusivity that took years of unlearning and political education to overcome.
“There has always been a tendency among the Syrian Christian elite to maintain a sense of caste pride. This wasn’t new. What’s different now is how visible and politically potent it has become,” Varghese added.
Indeed, what was once confined to drawing rooms and Sunday sermons has spilled into the public sphere. The term “Chrisanghis” — a combination of “Christian” and “Sanghi” — has emerged to describe Syrian Christians who have forged deep ideological ties with Hindutva groups, primarily out of fear and loathing of Muslims.
The fear that Muslims are systematically targeting Christian women has been stoked by prominent clergy. In 2021, Bishop Mar Joseph Kallarangatt of the Pala Diocese infamously warned of “love and narcotic jihad” during a sermon, echoing long-debunked conspiracy theories. The same faction went on to endorse “The Kerala Story,” a film falsely claiming that 32,000 Hindu and Christian women were converted to Islam and joined ISIS. Shockingly, the Idukki Diocese even screened the film — with its adults-only certificate — for children attending Sunday school.
During protests, when large parts of the country stood up against the religiously discriminatory law, some Kerala bishops lent support to the BJP. A spokesperson of the Kerala Catholic Bishops’ Council even wrote in the RSS mouthpiece Janmabhoomi that only the BJP had the strength to combat the supposed threat of “political Islam.”
These actions are deeply ironic. Across India, Christians and their institutions have been attacked and vilified by Hindu nationalism forces. Yet, a vocal elite within Kerala’s Syrian Christians appear to believe they are exempt from this violence — or at least willing to look the other way for political gain.
Caste at the core
To understand this shift, one must examine the community’s sociohistorical positioning.
“This isn’t just a political shift — it’s rooted in caste,” Varghese said. “Syrian Christians have historically seen themselves as upper caste, claiming descent from Brahmins converted by St. Thomas — a claim with no historical backing.”
In fact, archival documents show that churches in Kochi were once sites of the slave trade, and Syrian Christian families worked in close collaboration with Nairs and Brahmins to maintain the caste hierarchy.
Dalit Christians, who converted later, continue to be marginalized. They are excluded from key community roles and, in many cases, their churches and graveyards remain separate. The upper-caste pride among Syrian Christians is evident not just in history but in modern matrimonial preferences. “There’s open resistance to interfaith and intercaste marriages, especially involving Dalit Christians or Muslims,” says Jelwin. “Even matrimonial apps are filtered along caste lines.”
Valsamma Jacob, a retired Syrian Christian from Kerala, said that the community has traditionally looked down on Dalit Christians.
“Thankfully, attitudes are slowly changing,” she said. “But discrimination is never acceptable, and we must do more to uphold values of inclusivity.”
Yet when asked about the adoption of Hindu rituals such as the mangalsutra, Jacob is unbothered.
“I don’t see any issue with embracing certain Hindu customs. It’s part of coexisting in a shared cultural space,” she added.
For her, these adaptations are signs of integration rather than ideological alignment. But others see these cultural borrowings, particularly from Brahminical Hinduism—as a form of aspirational upper-caste identity politics.
There is, however, pushback from within. Varghese noted that younger members of the community are becoming more politically aware and vocal in their opposition to casteism and Islamophobia.
“But they often face social isolation. Even in family gatherings, any critique of the dominant narrative is met with disdain or dismissed as childish. And these spaces are deeply patriarchal,” he said.
Jacob remains hopeful that the rift won’t become permanent.
“I don’t foresee major divisions in the community. Most people tend to stay passive even on serious issues,” she said.
That passivity, however, may be part of the problem. The ideological shift is not without electoral consequences. The BJP, despite its historical inability to gain a foothold in Kerala, has been actively courting Christian votes. Church leaders meeting BJP officials is now a common sight. If this trend continues, it could reshape not just the political map of Kerala but also the soul of a community that once prided itself on justice and inclusion.
A question of survival and conscience
This political realignment also poses deeper moral questions. How does a community that has itself faced discrimination align with those who uphold majoritarian dominance?
“They think the Hindutva project won’t come for them—but history has shown otherwise,” Varghese said. “It’s only a matter of time before this alliance turns on them.”
Indeed, the Syrian Christian sects now aligning with Hindutva represent a small but loud minority. Their ability to shape public discourse, however, is disproportionate — thanks to their caste privilege, access to institutions, and proximity to power. Dalit Christians are rarely part of these conversations, despite bearing the brunt of both religious and caste-based oppression.
The road ahead is uncertain. Will the Syrian Christian community course-correct and recommit to the core values of compassion, inclusion and solidarity? Or will it continue down a path shaped by fear, caste pride and a dangerous alliance with forces that threaten India’s secular fabric?
If anything is clear, it’s that the struggle over the soul of the community is not just theological or cultural — it is deeply political. And it is far from over.
Rishabh Jain is an independent journalist based in Delhi. Follow him at @ThisIsRjain.