Europe Secularized Power. It Did Not End War

 

Editorial illustration comparing secular Europe and politically active America, highlighting the debate over religion, power, and modern conflict in democratic states.

Europe removed religion from state authority after centuries of devastation. The Enlightenment challenged clerical supremacy and replaced divine legitimacy with constitutional law. Bishops no longer crown kings. Parliaments no longer legislate doctrine.

Yet war did not disappear.

The Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), one of Europe’s last major religious conflicts, killed an estimated 4 to 8 million people, devastating Central Europe (Encyclopaedia Britannica). That catastrophe deeply shaped European political thought. Over time, states reduced church power to prevent religious absolutism from destabilizing governance.

But secularization did not eliminate mass violence.

World War I caused roughly 16–20 million deaths. World War II resulted in more than 40 million European deaths alone (U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum). These were not religious crusades. They were nationalist, racial, and ideological conflicts.

Europe secularized authority. It did not secularize ambition.

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The Enlightenment Shifted Legitimacy, Not Human Nature

Historian Charles Taylor, in A Secular Age, argues that secular modernity did not erase belief. It altered the conditions under which belief operates. Religion became one moral framework among many, rather than the organizing authority of the state.

That shift was significant.

Modern Western Europe rarely invokes scripture in legislative debate. According to the European Social Survey, regular church attendance in countries such as the United Kingdom, France, and the Netherlands sits in the single digits to low teens. Public policy debates revolve around law, rights, and economics rather than theological doctrine.

Yet ideology filled the vacuum.

Nationalism became sacred in the 19th and 20th centuries. Race became sacred under fascism. Class struggle became sacred under Marxist regimes. Political theorist Mark Lilla describes this transformation as the migration from “political theology” to secular ideological absolutism.

The vocabulary changed. The structure of moral certainty remained.

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Modern Europe Is Peaceful — But Not Pacified

It is important to acknowledge that Western Europe has achieved something historically unprecedented: internal peace among major powers for nearly eight decades. The European Union was explicitly designed to prevent another Franco-German war.

Still, security competition has returned.

After Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, European military spending surged. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), European defense expenditure rose sharply, with NATO European members increasing spending by more than 13 percent in 2023 alone (SIPRI Military Expenditure Database).

Germany announced a €100 billion special defense fund. Finland and Sweden abandoned long-standing neutrality.

None of these developments are religiously driven.

They are strategic.

Europe secularism and war now intersect in a different form. Secular states still mobilize power when threatened.

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Comparing the American Path

The United States followed a different trajectory. Religion remained socially vibrant. According to the Pew Research Center, about 45 percent of Americans say religion is very important in their lives, far higher than most Western European countries (Pew Research Center).

Evangelical networks influence electoral politics. Religious rhetoric appears in campaigns and judicial debates. Faith communities play visible roles in public life.

Yet modern American wars have not been officially framed as religious campaigns. They have been justified through national security, counterterrorism, and geopolitical containment.

This comparison complicates simple narratives.

Europe demonstrates that secularization does not eliminate conflict. America demonstrates that public religiosity does not automatically produce religious war.

In both systems, state violence ultimately rests on national interest.

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The Deeper Pattern

Europe secularism and war reveal a sobering truth.

Secularization limits clerical authority over governance. It reduces the risk of theology dictating state policy. That is a meaningful institutional achievement.

However, it does not eliminate the human tendency to sacralize something.

If divine mandate retreats, national destiny can replace it. If theology weakens, ideology can intensify. If church authority fades, identity politics can rise.

War requires moral permission. Secular modernity changes the source of that permission. It does not abolish the need for it.

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Why This Matters Now

This debate is not academic.

Across Europe, nationalist movements are rising. Across the United States, Christian nationalism is a subject of intense political dispute. Globally, identity politics shapes electoral coalitions from Warsaw to Washington.

The real question is not whether Europe “grew up” or whether America is “too religious.”

The real question is this:

Can modern democracies prevent any single moral framework — religious or secular — from monopolizing political legitimacy?

Europe weakened church dominance. It did not solve the problem of absolutism.

That remains the harder challenge.

Poland’s Rising Anti-Jewish Sentiment Reveals a Deeper Identity Crisis

 

A symbolic comparison between pre-war Jewish life in Poland and modern Poland, highlighting survey data showing rising negative attitudes toward Jews amid national identity tensions.

A new survey by Poland’s state research agency CBOS reports that 40 percent of Poles say they do not like Jews. The figure represents the highest recorded level of negative sentiment in decades. At the same time, positive views toward Jews have fallen to 22 percent, the lowest since 2006.

An eight percent annual rise in hostility is not statistical noise. It signals a shift in public mood.

The immediate explanation points toward the Israel–Palestinian conflict. Sympathy for Palestinians slightly exceeds sympathy for Israel, particularly among younger respondents. Analysts suggest that criticism of Israel’s actions may be influencing broader perceptions.

But reducing this shift to Middle Eastern geopolitics misses the deeper layer. Poland’s relationship with Jewish memory has always been structurally complex.

Before World War II, Poland was the epicenter of Jewish life in Europe. Approximately three million Jews lived there. Jewish religious scholarship, commerce, and cultural life were embedded in Polish cities and towns for centuries.

Then came occupation.

Nazi Germany invaded Poland in 1939. Extermination camps were constructed on Polish soil. Six million Polish citizens died in the war, including three million Jews. Poland as a state did not collaborate with Nazi Germany in the manner of Vichy France, yet historical research has documented instances of local anti-Jewish violence. Both realities coexist.

That coexistence complicates national memory.

Since the collapse of communism, Poland has emphasized its narrative of victimhood under both Nazi and Soviet domination. The emphasis is historically justified. Poland suffered immensely. Yet when national identity is anchored almost entirely in victimhood, it becomes sensitive to conversations that introduce nuance.

Debates over Holocaust memory in Poland have often centered on whether acknowledging episodes of Polish complicity undermines national dignity. The 2018 amendment to Poland’s Institute of National Remembrance law, which initially penalized suggestions of “Polish responsibility” for Nazi crimes, revealed how charged this terrain remains. The law was later softened, but the controversy exposed the underlying anxiety.

This matters for interpreting the survey data.

Today’s Poland has a very small Jewish population. Most citizens have limited personal contact with Jewish communities. In such contexts, Jews become more symbolic than social. They exist primarily in historical discourse rather than daily life.

When political tensions rise around Israel, criticism can easily blend with unresolved historical sensitivities. The boundary between state policy criticism and group hostility becomes fragile.

The survey also shows generational divergence. Younger respondents lean more pro-Palestinian. That pattern mirrors trends across Europe, where social media narratives and human rights framing strongly influence youth opinion. However, in Poland, this generational shift intersects with a distinct national memory debate about World War II and Polish suffering.

The result is not simple antisemitism in its traditional ideological form. It is something more layered.

It is a collision between:

• Historical trauma

• National pride

• Holocaust memory disputes

• Contemporary Middle Eastern politics

• Generational value shifts

When 40 percent express dislike toward Jews, the figure reflects more than foreign policy frustration. It reflects unresolved identity tensions inside the Polish narrative itself.

Nations that define themselves primarily through historical victimhood often struggle to integrate discussions of complexity. Acknowledging layered history does not diminish suffering. It strengthens credibility. Yet public discourse rarely rewards nuance.

Poland now faces a test. The survey is not merely a snapshot of prejudice. It is an indicator of how memory politics can influence present attitudes.

Europe has long believed that Holocaust education immunized it against renewed hostility toward Jews. The CBOS data suggests that historical memory, if politicized rather than internalized, can produce defensive reactions instead of reconciliation.

The question for Poland is not only about prejudice. It is about whether national identity can mature beyond a single-axis narrative of suffering and accommodate a fuller historical reckoning.

Public opinion shifts quickly. Memory, however, moves slowly.

The tension between the two may define Poland’s next chapter.

The RSS–Nazi Ideological Connection: Forgotten Passages from History

 

In the late 1930s, the world was drifting towards catastrophe. Adolf Hitler had tightened his grip on Germany, turning its politics into a brutal campaign for racial purity. Far from Europe, in colonial India, a Hindu nationalist leader was watching closely. His name was M.S. Golwalkar, the chief ideologue of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS).

Golwalkar’s 1939 work, We, Or Our Nationhood Defined, is not a dusty relic of nationalist thought. It is a document that openly admires certain aspects of Nazi Germany’s policies towards minorities. In one passage, he points to Germany’s “purging the country of the Semitic races” as an example of national pride and cultural preservation. The language is chilling. It carries the certainty of a man who saw no contradiction in praising the most notorious ethnic cleansing of the 20th century while imagining a future for India built on similar exclusions.

The RSS was founded in 1925, at a time when nationalist movements across the world were experimenting with paramilitary discipline, ideological training, and the politics of identity. Its members wore uniforms, marched in drills, and cultivated a collective sense of purpose. These outward similarities to fascist movements were not accidental. Golwalkar’s vision rested on a core belief: India was, and must remain, a Hindu nation.

In his book, he offered minorities only two options. They could completely assimilate into Hindu culture, abandoning their own religious and cultural identities, or they could remain in the country “wholly subordinated” to the Hindu majority, without political rights or privileges. This was not a passing remark. It was the foundation of a political worldview that saw pluralism as weakness.

The parallels to Nazi ideology are difficult to ignore. In 1930s Germany, the Jewish community was one of the most assimilated minorities in Europe. Within a decade, relentless propaganda turned them into a political underclass. The lesson for majoritarians everywhere was simple: demonising a minority can transform a numerical advantage into a weaponised majority, bound together by fear and resentment.

The RSS absorbed that lesson. Over decades, it built an organisational culture that normalised suspicion towards Muslims and other minorities. Historical disputes over temples and mosques became political flashpoints. Economic restrictions, such as bans on cattle trading, targeted livelihoods. Laws and campaigns, from the Citizenship Amendment Act to the rhetoric around “love jihad,” deepened the sense that some citizens would never be equal.

This ideological inheritance is not unique to India. Across the world, nationalist movements have borrowed and adapted elements of fascist thought. In Myanmar, Buddhist nationalism used similar arguments to justify the expulsion of the Rohingya. In Sri Lanka, Sinhala Buddhist leaders framed Tamil identity as an existential threat. The pattern is familiar: define the nation in ethnic or religious terms, paint a minority as incompatible, and then use state power to enforce the hierarchy.

Golwalkar’s book is rarely quoted in full today. Its most dangerous lines are often downplayed or dismissed as products of a different era. But the continuity of thought is visible. The language may have softened in some quarters, yet the underlying principle — that belonging is conditional on cultural submission — remains alive in parts of India’s political discourse.

History offers no comfort here. The architects of exclusionary nationalism rarely declare their final intentions at the outset. They proceed step by step, normalising discrimination until it no longer shocks. By the time society recognises the danger, the machinery is already in place.

The RSS–Nazi connection is not about claiming India is Germany in 1939. It is about recognising that ideas travel, adapt, and survive. When those ideas are rooted in the belief that diversity is a threat, the outcome is rarely peaceful. Remembering Golwalkar’s words is not a matter of academic interest. It is a warning.

The World Is Sending Indians Home: Why 2025 Became the Year of the Great Return

Picture this: You’ve spent years building a life in Sydney, Toronto, or Berlin. You’ve got a job, friends, maybe even a favorite spot for weekend biryani. Then, out of nowhere, you get the dreaded email: “Your visa renewal has been denied. Please make arrangements to leave.” Welcome to 2025, the year when 12 countries—including heavyweights like the US, UK, Australia, Germany, and even Singapore—decided to turn up the “not in my backyard” dial on Indian migrants.

It’s not just a few unlucky souls. From skilled techies in Silicon Valley to students in Melbourne and laborers in the Gulf, planeloads of Indians are being forced to pack up and head home. What in the world is going on?

Let’s be blunt: Nationalism is having a moment. Politicians everywhere are waving their flags a little higher, promising to “put our people first.” In Europe, far-right parties are making noise about “protecting local jobs.” In the US, the return of Trump-era policies means mass deportations and border crackdowns are back in style. Even places like Australia and Canada—long considered immigrant-friendly—are tightening the screws, citing everything from “ghost colleges” to housing shortages.

Why? Because when economies wobble and elections loom, blaming outsiders is a classic move. It’s easier to point at migrants than to fix broken systems.

Let’s talk money. The global economy isn’t exactly throwing a party right now. Growth is sluggish, inflation is stubborn, and jobs are scarcer than ever. Countries like the US and UK are seeing slower labor force growth, and the easiest lever to pull is immigration. Less immigration means less competition for jobs—at least, that’s the pitch.

But here’s the twist: Many economies actually need migrants. The US healthcare system is desperate for doctors. Germany’s factories need engineers. Yet, the politics of scarcity win out, and doors swing shut. The result? Fewer opportunities for Indians abroad, and a lot of dreams put on hold.

If you think geopolitics is just for diplomats, think again. Wars, rivalries, and shifting alliances are making countries nervous. The EU, for example, now fast-tracks deportations of Indians by labeling India a “safe country”—translation: “Go home, you’ll be fine!”. In the Gulf, labor market reforms and “nationalization” policies mean fewer spots for foreign workers from India, Bangladesh, and elsewhere.

And let’s not forget the ripple effects of big events—like the Ukraine war or a new US administration—on migration rules everywhere. When the world feels uncertain, governments reach for the nearest wall.

Here’s where it gets real. Behind every “policy update” is a person whose life just got flipped upside down.

Take Saurav from Punjab. His family sold their land and borrowed lakhs for him to chase the American dream. After a harrowing, months-long journey through Malaysia, Amsterdam, and the jungles of Panama, he finally reached the US—only to be deported within weeks. Now he’s back home, broke, exhausted, and haunted by what could have been.

Or consider Priya, an IT professional in Germany. Her work visa renewal was denied after new quotas kicked in. She’d just started feeling at home, learning German, making friends. Suddenly, she’s scrambling to sell her furniture and say goodbye to the life she built from scratch.

And then there are the students—thousands of them—who gambled on degrees in Australia or Canada, only to find post-study work visas yanked away by shifting rules. For many, the return home isn’t just a logistical headache; it’s a gut punch to their ambitions and their families’ sacrifices.

So what happens when tens of thousands of skilled professionals, students, and workers land back in India, often with little to show for their years abroad? Local job markets get squeezed. Families face financial strain. Communities lose the remittances they relied on.

Yet, there’s a strange resilience, too. Some returnees are using their global experience to start businesses, teach, or advocate for better migration policies. But let’s not sugarcoat it: The transition is rough, and the scars run deep.

As 2025 rolls on, the message from much of the world is clear: Migration is out, “locals first” is in. For Indians dreaming of a life abroad, the hurdles have never been higher. The question is, will this wave of nationalism and border-tightening last? Or will the world realize—again—that shutting out talent and ambition is a losing game for everyone?

The Great Indian Exodus: Why 12 Countries Are Tightening the Screws in 2025

 

Hey, friend, grab a coffee—let’s talk about something wild that’s been flying under the radar. In 2025, a dozen countries, from the shiny streets of Singapore to the deserts of Qatar, are making life tougher for Indian workers, students, and expats. We’re talking Malaysia, New Zealand, Germany, Australia, the USA, UK, Canada, Qatar, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Singapore—places that have long been magnets for India’s ambitious diaspora. But now, these nations are rolling out stricter immigration rules, tougher visa renewals, and policies that scream “locals first.” It’s a seismic shift, and it’s hitting Indian professionals, students, and laborers hard. So, what’s driving this? Is it just economics, or is something deeper—like nationalism or geopolitics—at play? Let’s unpack it.The Numbers Tell a StoryIndia’s diaspora is massive—18 million strong, the largest in the world. The UAE alone hosts 3.5 million Indians, while the US and Saudi Arabia each have over 2 million. These folks aren’t just chasing dreams; they’re sending back billions—$100 billion in remittances in 2022, per the World Bank. That’s a lifeline for India’s economy. But now, countries are slamming on the brakes. In the US, for instance, the Modi government is reportedly working with the Trump administration to identify and deport 18,000 undocumented Indians, with estimates suggesting the real number could be closer to 725,000. That’s not a typo. It’s a deliberate move to protect legal migration pathways, like the coveted H-1B visa, but it’s leaving many in limbo.In Canada, where Indians make up the largest migrant group, immigration policies are tightening. The Express Entry system, once a golden ticket for skilled workers, is getting pickier, with fewer slots for international students and professionals. Australia’s points-based system is skewing toward local hires, and New Zealand’s visa rules are making permanent residency a distant dream. Even Gulf nations like Qatar and Kuwait, where Indians dominate as engineers, doctors, and laborers, are pushing “nationalization” policies—fancy talk for prioritizing their own citizens.Why the Sudden Clampdown?So, what’s going on? First, let’s talk economics. Many of these countries are grappling with post-COVID recovery, inflation, and unemployment spikes. In the UK, for example, the government’s been vocal about reducing foreign workers to “protect British jobs.” Sound familiar? It’s a playbook straight out of rising nationalism, where leaders stoke fears that foreigners are “taking over.” Germany, facing labor shortages, still tightened its visa rules for non-EU workers, including Indians, to appease voters wary of immigration. My take? It’s a bit hypocritical—countries rely on Indian talent for tech, healthcare, and construction, but when the political heat is on, they’re quick to point fingers.Then there’s geopolitics. India’s growing clout—think Quad alliances and cozying up to the US to counter China—hasn’t gone unnoticed. But it’s a double-edged sword. The US, under Trump’s second term, is doubling down on border security, with Project 2025 proposing over 175 immigration restrictions. India’s cooperation on deportations is a strategic move to keep H-1B visas safe, but it’s a tough pill for those being sent back. In the Gulf, where citizenship is a pipe dream for Indian workers, “Saudization” and similar policies are about asserting local control, not just economics. It’s like these countries are saying, “Thanks for building our cities, now go home.”The Human CostHere’s where it gets real. Imagine you’re an Indian software engineer in Silicon Valley, grinding for years on an H-1B visa, only to face a renewal rejection. Or a nurse in the UK, suddenly told your skills are “less essential” because of new quotas. Students are hit hard too—Canada and Australia, once top destinations for Indian students (over 1 million study abroad annually), are slashing post-study work visas. A friend of mine, a grad student in Toronto, told me she’s scrambling to find a job before her visa expires. “It’s like they lured us here, then pulled the rug,” she said. That’s the vibe for many.In the Gulf, it’s even bleaker. Indian laborers, often from Kerala or Andhra Pradesh, work grueling jobs in construction or hospitality. They send most of their earnings home—85% in the UAE, per a World Bank report. But with policies like Kuwait’s and Qatar’s pushing local hires, these workers face deportation or job loss with no safety net. No citizenship, no permanent residency—just a one-way ticket back. It’s not just about money; it’s about dignity, stability, and dreams deferred.My Take: A Global Identity Crisis?Here’s my two cents: this isn’t just about immigration policies. It’s a global identity crisis. Countries are wrestling with who gets to belong in a world where borders feel both porous and sacred. Nationalism is spiking—look at Assam’s “pushback” policy, deporting undocumented migrants to Bangladesh, or the US’s border emergency declarations. But let’s be real: Indian workers aren’t the problem. They’re propping up economies, from coding apps in Singapore to building skyscrapers in Dubai. The irony? These same countries are happy to take Indian remittances or talent when it suits them.That said, I get the other side. Local workers deserve opportunities, and governments have to balance public sentiment. But scapegoating migrants—especially a group as integral as India’s diaspora—feels like a lazy fix. It’s not solving unemployment; it’s just shifting the blame. And for India, losing its diaspora’s economic contributions could sting, especially if returnees struggle to reintegrate.What’s Next?This wave of restrictions is a wake-up call. For Indian expats, it’s time to rethink strategies—maybe exploring emerging destinations like Germany or France, which are still courting Indian students (France wants 30,000 by 2030). For India’s government, it’s a chance to leverage its diaspora’s skills back home, though that’s easier said than done with 1.75 million Indians renouncing citizenship since 2011. And for the world? Maybe it’s time to stop treating migration as a zero-sum game.So, what do you think? Are these countries right to prioritize locals, or are they shooting themselves in the foot by pushing out talent? Drop your thoughts—I’m curious to hear.

Source Links:

• World Bank on remittances: https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2022/11/30/remittances-to-reach-100-billion-in-india
• The Guardian on US deportations: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jan/21/modi-government-repatriate-indians-us-illegally
• The Hindu on income gains for migrants: https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/indians-who-migrate-abroad-see-incomes-double/article68556569.ece
• ICEF Monitor on Indian student mobility: https://monitor.icef.com/2025/03/what-is-happening-with-indian-enrolments-abroad-this-year/
• Data for India on migration patterns: https://www.dataforindia.com/international-migration/[](https://www.dataforindia.com/international-migration/)