Clash of the uncivilized. Disunity in diversity!

Raju Korti
In India, the dal-chawal of daily life -- food, language, clothing -- is no longer just sustenance, communication, or style; it’s a battlefield where civilizations collide. American political scientist and academician Samuel Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations comes to my mind. Huntington argued that global conflicts would pivot on cultural identities, not ideologies or economies. In India, disputes over non-vegetarian food in Ghatkopar’s housing societies, the imposition of Hindi or Marathi, and bans on traditional attire are not petty squabbles; they are fractures in the mosaic of Indian society, more dangerous than wars fought with guns. These cultural flashpoints, rooted in regional and religious identities, are dismantling the textbook ideal of a harmonious, India, fragmenting it into warring tribes.

Food, the heart of Indian homes, has become a cultural landmine. In one Mumbai society a Gujarati resident allegedly called a Marathi family “dirty” for eating fish and mutton, sparking a Marathi-Gujarati row. With only four Marathi families in a Gujarati-dominated complex, the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) intervened, warning against “insulting Marathi food habits”. The society denied formal bans on non-vegetarian food, but the incident reflects a deeper trend: vegetarianism, often tied to Jain and upper-caste Hindu identities, is wielded to marginalize meat-eating communities. There are, of course instances of Gujarati bashing as well. Across India, housing societies quietly exclude non-vegetarians, citing “purity.” This aligns with Huntington’s thesis: food is no longer nourishment but a marker of civilizational identity -- vegetarian “us” versus non-vegetarian “them.” These disputes, unlike tank battles, fester in kitchens and corridors, turning neighbours into enemies.

Pic representational

Language, meant to unite, is a tool of division. Tensions flared when a prominent leader called Ghatkopar as a Gujarati-speaking area, igniting Marathi backlash. The MNS, claiming to champion Marathi pride, has long protested Hindi or Gujarati “impositions” in Maharashtra. Nationally, the push for Hindi in non-Hindi states like Tamil Nadu fuels Dravidian resentment, with 2024 protests in Chennai decrying it as cultural hegemony. Language, a bridge in textbooks, is a wall in reality, with Marathi, Gujarati, or Tamil pride trumping communication. Huntington’s lens reveals this as civilizational assertion -- regional identities resisting a homogenized “Indian” narrative. These linguistic wars fragment workplaces, schools, and politics, eroding the idea of a cohesive nation.

Clothing, a canvas of identity, is a cultural flashpoint. In Karnataka, the 2022 hijab ban in colleges sparked protests, pitting Muslim students against Hindu nationalist calls for “uniformity.” These are not fashion debates but civilizational clashes, as Huntington predicted, where symbols -- saffron shawls versus green hijabs -- define battle lines. Sitcom fights over attire banish the textbook vision of India as a tapestry of cultures, replacing it with suspicion and segregation.

Unlike the Kargil War, with its defined borders and ceasefires, cultural disputes are insidious, permeating homes and hearts. The clash, where an MNS leader warned, “No one can dictate what Marathis eat,” mirrors countless micro-conflicts -- over biryani in Hyderabad or beef in Uttar Pradesh. These are not resolved with understanding but linger, breeding distrust. Social media amplifies this, with X posts in 2025 fueling #MarathiPride and #GujaratiDominance, turning local spats into national vendettas. Huntington’s warning rings true: cultural conflicts, rooted in identity, are intractable, making them deadlier than military wars.

The textbook India -- a thali of diverse flavours, languages, and traditions -- is cracking. Across India, caste, religion, and region pit communities against each other, from Dalit meat-eaters shunned in IIT messes to communities denied rentals. These micro-aggressions, unlike wars, have no endgame, dismantling the social contract. Huntington’s clash is not just Hindu-Muslim but Marathi-Gujarati, Tamil-Hindi, urban-rural – and what have you -- fragmenting India’s soul.

India’s cultural disputes -- over fish curry in Ghatkopar, Hindi in Chennai, or hijabs in Bengaluru -- are not trivial. They are Huntington’s clash writ small, where samosas and saris become weapons. These conflicts, more pervasive than Siachen’s gunfire, threaten India’s whose pluralistic nature cannot be just wished away. Even as I write this, an FIR has been filed against film-maker Anurag Kashyap for his statement that “he would urinate on Brahmins.” If identities are “dirty,” the textbook dream of unity is defeated, not by invaders, but by our own hands.

A disclaimer would be in place here. I am not being judgemental. Just stating facts as they are.