The 1984 Sikh Genocide: Why We Must Still Talk About It
In 1984, thousands of Sikhs were massacred across India in what many now recognise as a genocide. Sikhism, a religion founded in 15th-century Punjab, has faced centuries of persecution—but this modern atrocity remains lesser known, especially outside South Asian communities. Official narratives often frame the violence as “riots”—a term still used on Wikipedia—but the systematic targeting of Sikhs, following the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, meets the legal definition of genocide: “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group.”
I use the word genocide deliberately. This isn’t just a historical footnote—it’s an open wound, especially for Sikhs in the diaspora. Last summer, I visited Southall, home to one of Britain’s oldest Sikh communities. Posters, murals, and gurdwara displays make it clear: this trauma lives on. Many Sikhs in the UK were born here; they fought for Britain in WWII. That Margaret Thatcher’s government allegedly supported the Indian state during these events makes this a British issue, not just an Indian one.
Let’s turn to the facts—because this story is built on them.
The Numbers
In 1984: India’s Guilty Secret, author Pav Singh quotes the late historian Khushwant Singh:
“Sikh houses and shops were marked for destruction in much the same way as those of Jews in Tsarist Russia or Nazi Germany. For the first time, I understood what the words pogrom, holocaust and genocide really meant.”
Pav Singh estimates that 8,000 Sikhs were killed over four days—more than the civilian toll of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the Tiananmen Square massacre, and 9/11 combined. Time magazine reported that 3,000 Sikhs were killed within three days, “at a rate of one per minute at the peak of the violence.” Unofficial estimates run much higher. The lack of clarity around the death toll is itself reason to revisit this atrocity.
Why This Matters to Me
I am not Sikh. I’m a humanist, and that fact alone makes some people uncomfortable. But I believe in truth and justice—and those principles demand we pay attention to what happened in 1984.
Sikhism, to its credit, doesn’t call for the mistreatment of atheists or apostates. I’ve never felt hostility from Sikhs for being a humanist. In fact, Bhagat Singh—one of the most celebrated revolutionaries in South Asian history—was openly atheist. My middle name is Singh, a name given to all Sikh men since 1699 by Guru Gobind Singh to fight caste hierarchy. I carry that name with pride, even if I don’t carry the faith.
With only 25 to 30 million adherents worldwide, Sikhs are a small minority. Their story has often been buried—by Mughals, by the British, and by the Indian state. Mentioning the Mughal Empire’s persecution of Sikhs is seen by some as controversial, even Islamophobic. But historical truth must not be censored to satisfy modern sensitivities. The same applies to 1984.
If Jews were discouraged from speaking about the pogroms they faced, we’d call it antisemitism. Why is the suppression of Sikh history tolerated?
What Led to 1984?
To understand 1984, you must go back to 1947, when Britain partitioned India and Pakistan—an act that triggered one of the largest and bloodiest migrations in history. Punjab, the Sikh heartland, was split between the two countries. Unlike Hindus and Muslims, Sikhs had little say in the process.
Pakistan was created as a Muslim homeland; Hindus stayed in India. Sikhs, caught in between, suffered immensely. The postcolonial Indian state further sidelined them. Punjab’s demands for cultural and political autonomy were ignored, fueling resentment.
Some Sikhs began calling for Khalistan—a separate Sikh homeland. Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale became the figurehead of this movement. Was he a freedom fighter or a terrorist? That depends who you ask. Historian Khushwant Singh denounced him. Many Sikhs revere him as a martyr.
In June 1984, Indian forces stormed the Golden Temple in Amritsar, Sikhism’s holiest shrine, to flush out Bhindranwale and his followers. Tanks rolled into a sacred space during one of the most important festivals in the Sikh calendar. Civilians died. Buildings were reduced to rubble. The trauma this caused cannot be overstated.
In retaliation, two of Gandhi’s Sikh bodyguards assassinated her. What followed was not spontaneous unrest but an orchestrated campaign of violence. Sikh men were lynched, burned alive, dragged from their homes. Women were raped. Politicians allegedly handed out lists of Sikh-owned businesses and homes.
According to the Morning Star, Margaret Thatcher’s government may have known about Britain’s advisory role in Operation Blue Star, the assault on the Golden Temple. If true, it implicates the UK in one of the darkest moments of modern Indian history.
The Legacy Lives On
The scars of 1984 are still visible today. Punjab struggles with drug addiction, debt, and economic instability. Many Sikhs allege this is the result of deliberate government neglect. In Canada and the UK, Sikh activists campaigning for Khalistan have faced threats, surveillance, and in some cases, assassination.
In 2023, Sky News reported that a Sikh man in Wolverhampton feared for his life after being labelled a terrorist by the Indian government. Canada’s relations with India have soured in part because of its large, politically active Sikh population. When Sikh communities ask for justice, they are often accused of extremism.
Why This Still Matters
The 1984 genocide was a crime—one that remains unpunished and largely unacknowledged on the world stage. This silence is dangerous. It enables history to be erased, and justice to be denied.
As my trip to Southall reminded me, British Sikhs haven’t forgotten. Nor should we.
The Bains Agenda 
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