Sacralization of Outrage and How to Break Free
When rage is combined with religious and ideological absolutism, avenues of freedoms vanish. Dissent is met with ruthless subjugation and every atrocity is covered up by ambivalence. Let's deep dive.
When rage is combined with religious and ideological absolutism, avenues of freedoms vanish. Dissent is met with ruthless subjugation and every atrocity is covered up by ambivalence. Let's deep dive.
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Can rage be institutionalized? Whether we look at the destruction of Teslas and the car dealers in the US and across other countries - (Source: Tesla Protests And Vandalism Surge / Forbes) or the arson and violence in Nagpur and Sambhal, the core principles of how one's beliefs are given religious cloak and violence thereafter is justified on outrage.
You see, the sacralization of outrage makes compromise nearly impossible because to relent would be to betray the "divine".
Rage, when combined with religious absolutism, provides:
Social media, transnational networks, and echo chambers now magnify this rage faster and further, making it an effective tool for political groups seeking control or influence.
These things are not happening for the first time.
There is an entire library of thought in the Marxist/Maoist/Communist world that discusses the mechanisms to take control of society for "posterity" - or so they believe.
Let us look at this in detail and also draw some lessons for the future.
In the opening scene of Netflix’s 3 Body Problem—a 1966 Cultural Revolution struggle session at Tsinghua University—the Red Guards direct their anger during a "denunciation rally" toward Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.
The critics have confirmed that this scene faithfully depicts a brutal struggle session during the Cultural Revolution.
The target is a physics professor, whose so-called crime was teaching "bourgeois" theories like the Big Bang and Relativity.
His wife, also a professor, is dragged into the session, forced to denounce and sever ties with him after aligning herself with the revolutionary Red Guards—many of whom were his own students.
Their daughter is left to witness the shattering of her family and the murder of her father. Tragically, this was the grim reality for countless families during that era.
Beginning around 1968, radical Chinese ideologues launched coordinated campaigns targeting Einstein and his Theory of Relativity, with active involvement from the Chinese Academy of Sciences—as evidenced by the attached screenshots of related reports and articles.
It was a widespread movement to establish the
To fully understand the struggles and battles that were manufactured in China, one needs to fully understand their intellectual context.
There is a mention of Mao's dialectical materialism in the end of the article cited above.
That is a very important concept.
Let us unpack that.
Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels pushed the concept of dialectical materialism and later expanded by Vladimir Lenin.
Mao's interpretation added a nuance that has shaped China and its internal politics and outward geopolitics ever since.
They used Hegel's commentary on dialectics to posit that history progresses through contradictions and their resolution.
That was accomplished primarily via class struggle.
Engels laid out the"Law of Dialectics" in his works"Dialectics of Nature" and "Anti-Dühring".
As per him, there were Three Fundamental laws of Dialectics.
Some of the main takeaways from these are:
Mao looked at the role of dialectics and the communist movement very differently.
At the heart of Mao's political theory—particularly during campaigns like the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976)—was the belief that socialism was not an endpoint, but a transitional stage filled with dangers of backsliding into capitalism.
To Mao, class struggle did not end after the proletariat seized state power; instead, contradictions persisted and could even intensify within socialist society.
Mao was looking at Soviet Union post Stalin and seeing how Khrushchev's policies of de-Stalinization were leading to the emergence of a bureaucratic elite.
He was convinced that this was a betrayal of the movement and a slide back to capitalism. Mao's takeaways were:
The only way to arrest the slide back to capitalism was through perpetual vigilance and active class struggle.
As per Mao, there was universality of contradictions. And the realizations that:
For more details on Mao's idea of Contradictions (both Universality and Particularity), you can check out his own writings here:
That is why the Cultural Revolution targeted not just the old capitalist class but also high-ranking Party officials, intellectuals, technocrats, and bureaucrats.
The question that would be in your mind if why are we even discussing this?
Because it provides a framework for understanding hegemonic and controlling social structures.
Let's talk Chhaava
Chhaava isn’t just a movie. It’s a raw, unapologetic window into the soul of Bharat’s relentless struggle—a story of Chhatrapati Sambhaji, son of the legendary Chhatrapati Shivaji, who stood as a towering wall against tyranny. The torture, humiliation, and brutal execution inflicted upon Sambhaji Maharaj by Aurangzeb, as portrayed on screen, is enough to make any audience squirm. But what the film shows is only a sliver of the unspeakable horrors Sambhaji endured. The truth was far more gruesome, far more monstrous.
His flesh was torn, his spirit tested—but never broken.
For Aurangzeb, it was an attempt to crush a civilization; for Sambhaji, it was a final, defiant roar of resistance.
Watching Chhaava isn't entertainment—it's an experience that shakes your core, forcing you to confront the ruthless face of history and the unconquerable will of a Dharma Yoddha.
The audience may find it hard to watch. But it is far harder to ignore. Because the pain of Sambhaji is not in the past—it reverberates even today in the very soil of this land. And it's a call to remember who we are and what it took to remain free.
Chhaava started an upheaval in the conscience of Indian society.
Aurangzeb's grave is located in Khuldabad, Aurangabad district, of Maharashtra.
How does the land that bore witness to the monstrous hate of a brutal tyrant still cradle his grave with reverence? How can the very soil soaked in the blood of innocents—victims of his unrelenting, religiously sanctioned cruelty—allow his resting place to be adorned, preserved, even honored? Aurangzeb did not rule; he butchered. He did not govern; he terrorized.
His was not a reign of justice, but a dark age of bigotry, desecration, and systemic violence driven by fanaticism.
And yet, today, his tomb stands cared for, as though history has forgotten the shattered temples, the slaughtered innocents, the desecrated Dharma.
What sort of civilization nurtures the memorial of its tormentor?
Is it forgetfulness? Is it misplaced tolerance? Or is it the fatal weakness of a people severed from their memory and spine?
A land that remembers the oppressor while erasing the valor of the oppressed stands on the edge of moral ruin. Sambhaji Maharaj, Guru Tegh Bahadur, countless souls faced his swords—but refused to kneel. Their sacrifice demands remembrance, not the tombstone of their tormentor.
It is time to ask: whose legacy are we preserving—the defender’s, or the destroyer’s?
This is gaslighting at its most brutal, sinister, and unapologetic.
Not only is the tyrant’s grave maintained like a shrine, but an entire machinery of pliant media mouthpieces has been oiled to normalize Aurangzeb—whitewashing his atrocities, sanitizing centuries of savagery. For decades, fictional histories passed off as “official narratives” by previous regimes have sought to paint this butcher as a benevolent ruler. A tyrant who razed temples, slaughtered innocents, and drenched the land in blood—now glorified by compromised storytellers.
But the mask slips when truth stirs.
When Hindus in Maharashtra protested the audacity of harboring Aurangzeb’s grave on their soil—the same soil where Sambhaji Maharaj’s blood cries out—they became the target. The protests alone triggered communal clashes in Nagpur, like a carefully set match waiting for the spark. And to stoke the fire further, a rumor was manufactured: that a 'chadar' inscribed with Quranic verses had been burned.
A rumor, nothing more.
Yet, it was enough. Enough to unleash arson, violence, and rioting—all under the pretense that the burning of cloth warranted the burning of lives, livelihoods, and peace itself.
This is not just provocation—it is calculated psychological warfare against justice, against memory, against Dharma. A deliberate inversion of victim and oppressor, right and wrong, sanctified by a media apparatus that thrives on deceit.
And the question remains: How long will we tolerate this grotesque distortion of truth only to be used as justification for violence?
Sambhal, a seemingly quiet town in Uttar Pradesh, has suddenly become the flashpoint of a simmering cauldron of historical wounds, religious tensions, and power plays.
Recently, two disturbing incidents have shaken the region. During the auspicious Purnagiri pilgrimage, Hindu devotees—men, women, families—were violently attacked by fruit vendors. The imagery was chilling: devotees, barefoot and peaceful, being chased down roads by vendors, their crime being their faith and the procession they were part of. What should have been a serene spiritual journey turned into chaos, forcing authorities to impose curfews. But this was no isolated event. It was symptomatic of something far deeper.
Parallelly, on November 24, 2024, during a court-ordered survey by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) at the centuries-old Shahi Jama Masjid, violence again erupted. The violence was pre-planned. The goal was to assassinate the lawyer from the Hindu side.
Big disclosure by SP Sambhal:
— Megh Updates 🚨™ (@MeghUpdates) February 20, 2025
Gulam, one of the arsonist of 24 Nov Sambhal Riots confessed:
-Riots were pre-planned.
- Plan was to ASSASSINATE Hindu side Lawyer Vishnu Shankar Jain.
- Weapons were given along with photograph.
- By targeting Jain, Violence will spread… pic.twitter.com/7q1oFtrwjz
The ASI was not there on a whim; it was tasked to investigate long-standing claims that the mosque stood over a razed Hindu temple, a remnant of Mughal desecration.
The tension was palpable.
The survey unearthed startling evidence: a tunnel beneath the mosque, an ancient stepwell over 150 years old, fragments of temple architecture—all whispering of a history buried under political convenience.
SHOCKING NEWS 🚨 MYSTERIOUS Coins inscribed with ‘Ram Lakshmana Janaki’ discovered in Sambhal.
— Times Algebra (@TimesAlgebraIND) January 25, 2025
The Invaluable coins are of 1200 AD, 1700 AD 😱
Secrets of Sambhal being revealed 🔥
87 'Deva Teerth' including 5 'Maha-Teerth' have been discovered so far.
In 87 Deva Teerth, there… pic.twitter.com/u9VRWwBvPv
The findings corroborate what many had long suspected: systematic temple destruction, their ruins appropriated for constructing symbols of conquest. Sambhal is but one name in a long, painful ledger.
However, this isn't merely a case of archaeology or communal flare-ups.
It's about the unhealed wounds of a civilization. Scholars like Richard Eaton may attempt to downplay the scale and nature of temple desecrations, framing them as political opportunism rather than religious zealotry. But for the devotees attacked on the streets and the heritage unearthed beneath the mosque stones, these academic rationalizations mean little.
Sambhal stands today as testimony to uncomfortable truths: of forgotten temples, of silenced devotees, and of the resilience of a civilization constantly forced to rediscover its stolen past. As the ASI prepares its report, India watches—will the truth finally emerge from beneath the rubble, or will Sambhal’s cries too be buried under the weight of secular convenience?
Sambhal has long been associated with Bhagwan Kalki, the prophesied tenth avatar of Lord Vishnu, who, according to Hindu texts, is to be born in Sambhal at the end of the Kali Yuga.
Ancient Hindu scriptures, particularly the Bhagavata Purana, mention Sambhal as the birthplace of Kalki, signifying it as a sacred site tied to the cyclical nature of time and dharma.
In addition to this eschatological connection, Sambhal was historically dotted with temples dedicated to various deities. Its location in the fertile Ganga-Yamuna doab made it a thriving spiritual and trade hub, contributing to the flourishing of temples, educational institutions, and cultural centers.
When Babur invaded India in the early 16th century, his campaigns were not merely military conquests—they were accompanied by an ideological fervor to establish Islamic supremacy, both symbolically and territorially. Sambhal, given its prominence as a Hindu spiritual center and its symbolic association with Kalki, became a target.
To somehow target the place which would be the birthplace of the next Avatar of Vishnu.
Babur’s general strategy was straightforward: desecrate temples, humiliate the local populace, and assert dominance.
According to historical records, including the Baburnama and later chroniclers, the demolition of temples was seen as both a tactical and psychological tool to erase indigenous religious symbols and impose new ones. In Sambhal, temples were razed, and Islamic structures were erected atop their ruins—a physical and spiritual act of conquest.
What happened in Sambhal was not isolated; it mirrored the fate of countless other Hindu sites—Kashi, Mathura, Ayodhya—where the spiritual heart of India was torn apart to make way for the symbols of imperial rule.
Why should the Muslim community in India today be outraged when Hindus attempt to reclaim fragments of their shattered heritage—temples desecrated, deities defiled, and sacred spaces razed to the ground by brutal invaders and bigots of centuries past?
Ask yourself: in whose name were these atrocities committed? In whose name were temples of Kashi, Mathura, Ayodhya, Sambhal, and countless unnamed shrines crushed under imperial boots? Those who wielded the sword did so not just to conquer land but to humiliate a civilization, to erase a way of life, to impose supremacy where once diversity and spiritual freedom flourished.
Yet centuries later, when Hindus, through lawful means and judicial mandates, seek to resurrect what was lost—not to retaliate, not to subjugate, but to restore and remember—there erupts an orchestrated outrage. Why?
Are today’s Indian Muslims identifying with those medieval tyrants who slaughtered, plundered, and desecrated? Are they justifying, by their outrage, the dark deeds of men who saw no value in the lives and faith of others? Does preserving the footprint of bigotry over the footprints of devotion serve the cause of justice, harmony, or brotherhood?
Or is there an unspoken fear that acknowledging this painful truth will shatter false historical narratives, lovingly nurtured in the name of secular convenience?
Where, then, is the much-touted call for Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb? Where is the attempt to reach out to your Hindu brothers and sisters, to embrace the idea that what was stolen and crushed should be rightfully restored—not out of vengeance, but as an act of healing? Why not share in their joy when a temple rises from the ruins of history, as a beacon of mutual respect, not a symbol of triumph?
True harmony is not built on lies, suppression, or historical amnesia. It is built when communities confront their past honestly, acknowledge each other’s pain, and move forward not by preserving scars but by healing them.
If Indian Muslims today disown the bigots and destroyers of the past, stand shoulder to shoulder with Hindus to rebuild, to reclaim, to reconcile—then, and only then, will true brotherhood reign. Otherwise, outrage becomes complicity, and silence becomes endorsement.
An outrage that is born out of carefully laid out principles while giving it the divine approval of a god that no one has seen.
Why is it that the simple, joyous rhythms of India’s festivals—Holi’s vibrant colors, the drumbeats of Shivaji Jayanti, and the devotional chants of Ganesh Chaturthi—now echo with the sounds of stone-pelting, arson, and bloodshed?
What has changed?
Once, these festivals were celebrations of life itself. Holi’s colors blurred boundaries, caste lines dissolved, neighbors embraced. Shivaji Jayanti evoked valor, reminding people of resistance, courage, and honor. Ganesh Chaturthi united entire neighborhoods in devotion, singing praises of the remover of obstacles.
But today? They have become trigger points.
A Ganesh idol procession in Karnataka faces a hail of stones. A Shivaji Jayanti rally in Maharashtra is disrupted under pretexts of “provocation.” Holi revelers are chased and attacked. Why? What "provocation" lies in color, devotion, or historical remembrance?
In a land where the majority once celebrated freely, peacefully, without malice—now even the act of singing bhajans, unfurling saffron flags, or dancing with powdered colors is met with orchestrated rage.
Ask yourself: who benefits from turning festivals into battlegrounds?
This isn't spontaneous outrage. It is manufactured—nurtured by vested interests who cannot stomach the resurgence of a civilization that refuses to forget, refuses to bow, and refuses to be ashamed of its identity. And the modus operandi is clear: demonize what is sacred, criminalize what is cultural, and vilify the majority for daring to celebrate.
Where does this leave the idea of “secular harmony”? Why must Hindus walk on eggshells to perform their rituals, take police permissions to sing in public, or fear retaliation for honoring their heroes?
If festivals—the purest expressions of joy, community, and spirituality—are now enough to invite violence, it speaks volumes about the sickness festering underneath.
It is not the festivals that have become provocative.
And until society has the courage to call this out without fear or apology, the colors of Holi will run red, the dhols of Ganesh Chaturthi will be drowned in sirens, and the sword of Shivaji will forever be blunted—not by invaders, but by complacency and cowardice.
This is not about festivals anymore. It is about the right to exist unapologetically.
Look at this carefully, and you will find that it is a page straight out of Mao’s handbook!
Mao’s revolutionary strategy was simple but devastating: identify symbols of cultural unity, tear them down, demonize traditions, and replace them with ideology-driven chaos. He targeted temples, shrines, ancestral customs—anything that anchored people to history and heritage. Why? Because when a civilization loses its memory, it loses its spine.
What Mao did with temples and monasteries, today’s street-level Maoists in India—the radical ideological foot soldiers—do with Hindu festivals. They cannot physically raze temples like their predecessors, so instead, they attack the living temples—the people, the processions, the public celebration of dharma.
Look closely: Holi processions met with stone pelting. Ganesh idols attacked, their routes blocked, and Shivaji Jayanti rallies labeled "provocative."
Exactly Maoist tactics—disrupt, delegitimize, demonize.
Something similar to Mao's dialectical approach that was used to create a division in society to push for a “dictatorship of the proletariat”
Now let us introduce another area of research and work - the concept of Ambivalence by Dr. Homi Bhabha.
We have discussed those concepts here.
Let us see where we are going.
Mao redefined the "dictatorship of the proletariat" as a permanent, ongoing process rather than a transitional phase. He argued that societal contradictions never entirely disappear; instead, they persist and renew.
Continuous class struggle, purges, and ideological re-education became essential tools to prevent capitalist restoration and bureaucratic stagnation.
This approach ensured the state’s indefinite control, justified by the need to combat ever-emerging contradictions. It allowed for the
Let us look on the other side.
The historically expansionist or totalitarian tendencies of Islamic rulers, radical groups, and Islamist regimes show parallels.
Let us see.
The results in both the frameworks are remarkably similar.
Mao emphasized that contradictions within society are not static; they are dynamic, situational, and constantly evolving.
He believed that the nature of these contradictions could shift based on historical circumstances and political objectives. As a result, the Communist Party needed to maintain tactical flexibility, adapting its stance and policies as new conditions emerged.
This approach bears striking resemblance to the concept of Taqiyya in certain Islamic traditions, particularly within Shia Islam.
Taqiyya allows believers to conceal their beliefs or intentions when facing persecution or danger. Similarly, Mao’s flexible handling of contradictions functioned as a political survival strategy, enabling the regime to navigate crises, suppress dissent, and neutralize opposition by shifting ideological boundaries.
Both frameworks employ adaptability and strategic ambiguity as tools of control, ensuring that power structures remain unchallenged.
In essence, Mao’s use of contradictions parallels Taqiyya’s principle of maneuvering through adversity while safeguarding core objectives and authority.
If you look at these closely, you will see that both involve:
This aligns with deception-as-survival/expansion, especially in environments of conflict or uncertainty.
This use of deception is not unique to Communism or Islam. Dr. Homi Bhabha's idea of ambivalence (check the link to our earlier newsletter that detailed this concept) shares its centrality in controlling frameworks like coloniality.
The expansionist control mechanisms therefore have their own way of creating, sustaining and utilizing contradictions.
Mao’s regime and certain theocratic models similarly:
Ambivalence similarly wields contradictions as a tool of power, creating instability and control by keeping identities and loyalties fluid, uncertain, and open to manipulation.
Here are the consequences.
Let us summarize it all in one place:
What are the main takeaways?
The situation that we are in seems ultimately hopeless.
Once a system has mastered the art of perpetual instability, psychological manipulation, and manufactured enemies, reclaiming rights and freedoms seems almost impossible.
Maoist regimes and Islamist power structures share a sinister genius: the ability to seize the narrative and bend reality itself. They do not merely control the present—they rewrite the past, redefine enemies, recast heroes as villains, and drown societies in a fog of contradictions and falsehoods. Truth becomes a weapon in their hands, wielded to manipulate, divide, and dominate.
The only antidote to this psychological tyranny is the relentless, unapologetic reassertion of objective truth—sharp, uncompromising, and unafraid. History must be reclaimed from the hands of propagandists. Facts must be stripped of ideological varnish. The blood of martyrs, the desecration of civilizations, the manufactured crises—all must be exposed, named, and remembered.
This isn’t just academic correction—it is an existential battle. A society that forgets its truths, loses its spine.
The first strike against tyranny is to shatter the monopoly over narrative. To speak clearly, to refuse their gaslighting, to hold a mirror to their lies. In that clarity begins freedom.
Because when truth roars, empires built on deception tremble.
Specific steps we need to take:
But this is not all.
Homi Bhabha’s theory of ambivalence lays bare the darkest trick of colonial systems: the deliberate blurring of lines between oppressor and oppressed. The colonizer doesn't just dominate—they confuse. They demand mimicry, but with contempt. They offer inclusion, only to deny dignity. Identities are fractured, loyalties muddled, leaving the colonized caught in a vicious loop of self-doubt and subjugation.
This is no accident—it’s a calculated weapon. A society unsure of who it is can never resist who controls it.
The way out? Refuse ambiguity. Tear down the fog of false equivalence. Stand rooted in clear moral truths, in uncompromising knowledge of who you are and where you stand. No borrowed masks. No diluted loyalties.
Certainty is rebellion.
In reclaiming clarity, you reclaim power. The oppressor thrives on your confusion; your liberation begins when you deny them that weapon.
The surest way out is to refuse ambiguity:
The perpetual manufacturing of enemies and crises is the oldest trick in the tyrant’s book. Keep the people terrified, always scanning the shadows for threats. Feed them chaos, and in their desperation, they’ll cling to the very hand that shackles them.
Fear becomes the leash; obedience, the conditioned reflex. It’s not governance—it’s psychological warfare. But the antidote lies in recognizing the pattern, tearing off the blindfold, and refusing to play the game.
When a society stops fearing shadows, the empire of fear collapses. Tyranny thrives on imagined enemies; freedom begins when we stop believing in them.
We talked about agency in a previous newsletter.
Societies can reclaim their agency by:
With all this, we need to look at relentless resistance.
Ultimately, Maoist and Islamist authoritarian frameworks collapse when:
Most importantly, the resistance must have some core components:
The final antidote will be in reestablishing Dharma—the universal order of justice, truth, and individual free will—over ideological totalitarianism. Whether through faith, philosophy, or secular ethics, the human spirit’s innate desire for freedom must be rekindled, relentlessly defended and institutionally embedded.
It requires sacrifice, courage, and unshakable clarity. But history shows that no amount of gaslighting, contradictions, or manufactured crises can enslave a people forever when their consciousness awakens.