Roots Of RSS Much Deeper In Kerala

Thirty years before the Babri Masjid came crashing down on December 6, 1992, another battle over faith and symbolism had played out at the country’s southern tip. In 1962, on the rocky islet off Kanyakumari—where Swami Vivekananda had meditated for three days—a Cross that stood on the site was removed. In its place, a towering statue of the monk was unveiled some years later, changing the landscape and its meaning forever.

From his karyalay in Thiruvananthapuram, S. Sethumadhavan, a first-generation Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) pracharak who went on to hold senior positions in the organisation, recalls that episode. For him, it marked an epochal moment in the RSS’ journey through Kerala and Tamil Nadu. He talks about the RSS’ growth and the hurdles it encountered in Kerala—a state where, as M.S. Golwalkar once described, the organisation’s three “internal enemies” were firmly entrenched: the Muslims, the Christians and the Communists. Their strong presence, Sethumadhavan notes, meant that every step of the RSS’ expansion in the region was marked by resistance, negotiation, and, at times, confrontation.

“Hindus account for around half of the state’s population, but even within this community, many identify with the Communists. So, we were constrained to work within a small segment and gradually expand,” says K.P. Radhakrishnan, the saha boudhik pramukh overseeing Kerala and Tamil Nadu. His reasoning for branding Muslims, Christians and Communists as “internal enemies” reflects familiar RSS talking points: that sections of Muslims sympathise with Pakistan during times of tension, Christian missionaries target vulnerable Hindus for conversion, and Communists disregard national interests.

The RSS’ roots in Kerala date back to 1942, when Dattopanth Thengadi, deputed by Golwalkar, secured the support of the Kozhikode royal family to start the first shakha in Chalappuram in Kozhikode. From its modest beginning, the Sangh has expanded to what it now claims are over 5,000 shakhas—a figure its leaders tout as proof of their perseverance in hostile terrain. Today, Kerala, long resistant to Hindutva politics, paradoxically hosts more RSS shakhas than most Indian states.

Critics see the Sangh’s growing footprint as reshaping Kerala’s political culture, introducing sharper communal divides, and undermining the state’s long-cherished traditions of pluralism. For them, the very spread that the RSS celebrates signals a deepening of obscurantism and religious polarisation.

The RSS’ Expansion and the BJP’s Electoral Prospects

The so-called “internal enemies” in the state have only consolidated themselves further, gaining numerical strength as well as political and economic clout. Yet, this reality has not stalled the Sangh’s advance. Its political front, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), has steadily expanded its footprint, capturing close to 20 per cent of the vote share (for the NDA) in the last Lok Sabha election—a significant leap in a state once considered impenetrable terrain.

Political observers have noted a striking trend in the last two elections: sections of the Ezhava community, historically the backbone of the Left alongside the Dalits, have begun shifting towards the BJP. “The real achievement of Kerala’s Renaissance lay in enabling the social and economic mobility of the lower castes within the Hindu fold,” notes P.N. Gopikrishnan, author and political observer. “But as these communities—particularly the Shudras and Ezhavas—moved into the middle classes, they also began to internalise and uphold savarna or Brahmanical values. This subtle yet profound shift went largely unnoticed by secular forces, who continued to view these groups through an outdated lens of deprivation and oppression. The result was a gradual erosion of their ability to interpret the changing social landscape.” That analytical vacuum is precisely what has allowed Hindutva to gain disproportionate leverage in Kerala’s society today, he adds.

The RSS has also been able to establish a political link with the Christian community. A conservative Christian group, The Christian Association and Alliance For Social Action (CASA), accused of spreading Islamophobia, has been actively pushing the RSS’ ideas in Kerala’ political and social arena. The RSS has displayed tactical flexibility in dealing with Kerala’s Christians. While its affiliates elsewhere in India spearhead attacks on missionaries, in Kerala, the organisation has cast itself as a partner to sections of the Christian community, strategically leveraging their anxieties about Muslims in order to build a temporary common ground.

Hindu community groups in the state that once resisted the Sangh rigidly, are now more conciliatory, even receptive. Since the early 20th century, Kerala has witnessed the emergence of influential Hindu community associations, including the Sree Narayana Dharma Paripalana Yogam (SNDP) and the Nair Service Society (NSS). The NSS consistently championed an anti-Communist agenda, most prominently during the “liberation struggle” against the first Communist government led by E.M.S. Namboodiripad, and on numerous subsequent occasions. The SNDP, meanwhile, long upheld the reformist and Renaissance values of its founder, Sree Narayana Guru. Over time, these organisations have shaped social and political alignments in Kerala, creating networks that groups like the RSS now seek to engage with or expand upon.

Sethumadhavan contends that attempts to unify various caste associations were deliberately undermined by the Congress party’s national leadership in the 1950s and 1960s. He recalled that the formation of the Hindu Aikya Mandal, following the 1950 incident of arson that destroyed the Sabarimala Temple, could have marked a moment of consolidation. “However, the machinations of the Congress, coupled with caste groups’ willingness to align with those in power, prevented meaningful Hindu unity,” he says, going on to highlight that political calculations and opportunism shaped the trajectory of social mobilisation in Kerala. He adds that the situation has changed now, and that the caste groups have started showing more affinity towards the RSS.

Dr J. Prabhash, former head of the Department of Political Science at Kerala University, observes that while caste organisations were eager to assert themselves as power groups, they also reflected certain Renaissance values earlier, upholding secular principles and serving as a bulwark against divisive tendencies.

RSS leaders point to several pivotal moments in Kerala’s history when the Sangh, despite its limited political footprint, successfully mobilised public sentiment and shaped cultural consciousness. They highlight the opposition to the creation of Malappuram district—(despite the opposition, the district was formed and is one of the few Muslim-majority districts in India outside Kashmir)—the 1981 Hindu Conference, which, according to the RSS, promoted Hindu identity above caste divisions, and the Nilaikkal struggle led by the Hindu Munnani against the establishment of a Christian church near a temple, as key milestones in propagating RSS ideology. R. Sanjayan, Director of the Bharatiya Vichara Kendram, notes how these initiatives extended beyond politics to cultural influence. “The 1981 Hindu Conference, attended by figures such as Karan Singh, called for the observance of Karkidakam month—the last month of the Malayalam calendar—as ‘Ramayana month’, urging all Hindus to recite verses from the epic. Over time, this practice has transcended RSS membership, becoming a widespread cultural marker among Kerala Hindus,” he explains. Such initiatives, RSS leaders argue, illustrate the organisation’s long-term strategy of embedding its ideological vision within Kerala’s social and cultural fabric.

The ideology and history of the RSS remain deeply communal, built on identifying so-called “malicious” groups—Marxism, Macaulayism, materialism, Muslim extremism, and Christian missionaries. “Such labelling inevitably creates anxiety and fear,” says theologian Fr. Paul Telekkat. Yet, he adds, “Dialogue is the most effective method of political coexistence. With hope, I welcome the honest pilgrimage of RSS workers towards other religions and communities, which can bring peace and friendship.”

Culture as a Political Tool

The Communist Party of India (Marxist) concedes that the RSS has been strategically deploying cultural and religious instruments to gain influence within Hindu society. “Earlier, they sought to spread their presence by unleashing violence against Communists,” says P. Jayarajan, CPI(M) state committee member. “But in recent years, they have intensified their efforts to covertly employ religious symbols to advance their political agenda. The Brahmanisation of the kaavu—(sacred groves where local deities are worshipped in animistic or folk traditions)—is a striking example. By transforming these shrines into temples aligned with Brahmanical rituals, they overwrite Kerala’s plural folk religiosity with a homogenised Hindu identity. Similarly, festivals like Sri Krishna Jayanti are now systematically used to draw children into their fold.”

For Jayarajan, this is not just an ideological issue but a lived experience. In 1999, he narrowly survived when RSS workers stormed into his home; his hand was severed, and he suffered serious spinal injuries. The cycle of political violence between the RSS and the CPI(M) has claimed hundreds of lives in Kerala, with Kannur district emerging as its bloodiest theatre. While the CPI(M) blames the Sangh for initiating clashes, the RSS counters that Communist intolerance fuels the conflict.

O.K. Vasu, a former RSS worker who was the BJP’s Kannur district president before moving to the CPI(M), argues that violence is embedded in the Sangh’s ideological framework. “The RSS thrives on hate and on fanning emotions around religious nationalism,” he says. “The political bloodshed in Kerala is a direct product of that ideology.”

A similar disillusionment is voiced by television journalist Jishnu Raveendran, who grew up in an RSS family in Kozhikode. Trained early to conduct shakhas, he recalls how subtle indoctrination worked. “Everything associated with Muslim life was despised, tactically, in the shakhas. I only realised how hollow it was when I went to college and built friendships with Muslims,” he says. “That was when I decided to distance myself from the RSS. However, because it has no formal membership, even after I left, they could still claim I was a part of them. I had to actively criticise the organisation on social media before I felt free of its hate-mongering mindset.”

These personal narratives underscore a broader point often overlooked in electoral analysis: for many, the RSS is not just a political but an ideological system that sustains itself through cultural conditioning and a discourse of polarisation.

J. Prabhash argues that the political strategies of the ruling CPI(M) have, albeit unintentionally, created opportunities for the RSS to expand its influence. He cites the recent Global Ayyappa Summit, organised under the aegis of the Left government, as illustrative of this trend. What emerges is a pattern in which the “pragmatism” of mainstream political parties—marked by compromises on ideological positions—intersects with the proclivity of community organisations to align with centres of power. This convergence has enabled the RSS to penetrate a socio-political landscape once considered resistant, if not entirely impervious, to its ideology.

N.K. Bhoopesh is Assistant Editor, Outlook. He is based out of Kochi, Kerala

This story appeared as 'One Hundred Years Of...An Uphill Climb' in the print edition of Outlook magazine’s October 21 issue titled Who is an Indian?, which offers a bird's-eye view of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), testimonies of exclusion and inclusion, organisational complexities, and regional challenges faced by the organisation.