Punjab: Anti-migrant wave jeopardises an inclusive ethos

What began as public grief has rapidly transformed into a dangerous campaign targeting entire communities of migrant workers—mostly from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh

An anti-migrant protest in Kurali after the Hoshiarpur incident
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Harjeshwar Pal Singh

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The brutal killing of a child in Hoshiarpur on 9 September, allegedly by a migrant labourer, has triggered a wave of outrage across Punjab. But what began as public grief has rapidly transformed into a dangerous campaign targeting entire communities of migrant workers—mostly from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh.

Pravasi bhajao, Punjab bachao’ (Drive away migrants, save Punjab) has become a chilling slogan. Skirmishes have broken out in mandis, panchayats have passed resolutions against migrants and social media is ablaze with conspiracy theories.

While the crime rightly demands swift justice, the collective vilification of migrants raises grave constitutional, moral and economic concerns. Many have pointed out that this reaction violates the core of Punjabiat and Sikhi, both of which uphold the values of justice, inclusivity, and sarbat da bhala (welfare of all).

This rise of anti-migrant sentiment cannot be understood in isolation. It emerges from a mix of factors—rising unemployment, growing inequality, demographic anxieties, the collapse of regional political alternatives, the rise of radicals and the increasing role of social media. Similar to the ‘antimigrant’ waves in other parts of India, and abroad, the anger of a distressed population has found a convenient target: the outsider.

Sections of the local population in Punjab—the country’s only Sikhmajority state—view unregulated migration as a threat to their culture, livelihoods and way of life. Claims of migrants ‘taking over’ local jobs, engaging in crime, and even altering the state’s demography are gaining traction.

This has sparked demands for stricter norms—ranging from background checks and employment restrictions to even barring migrants from land ownership and voting rights. Sociologists are describing the current atmosphere as ‘moral panic’ where an isolated incident is irrationally inflated into a civilisational threat.

Add to this a lethal cocktail of fringe political actors, WhatsApp groups, YouTube sermons and Facebook posts claiming the Centre is encouraging migration to sway elections in favour of the BJP. What you have is a climate of hysteria, where conspiracy theories flourish unchecked. While concrete evidence for these sweeping allegations is minimal, such narratives serve as political ammunition for extremist groups.

The polarisation benefits both extremes—radical Sikh groups like those aligned with Amritpal Singh of Waris Punjab De and the Hindu right led by the BJP. Each thrives on a climate of mistrust, fear and siege mentality. Meanwhile, centrist parties—AAP, Congress and SAD(B)—remain largely silent, with chief minister Bhagwant Mann being the exception.

The stakes are high. At risk is Punjab’s image as a land of sewa, struggle and self-help. During the farmers’ movement and the recent devastating floods, Punjab was hailed for its resilience and collective spirit. The campaign against migrants threatens to undo that goodwill.

The economic impact could be catastrophic. Migrants are not interlopers. They have been the backbone of Punjab’s economy since the green revolution in the 1970s when they first arrived to work in the paddy fields. From agricultural labour to industrial work, from small-scale retail to the hospitality sector and domestic services, they fill essential roles that Punjabis have increasingly vacated.

A mass ouster or boycott would hurt Punjab’s already fragile economy and worsen its labour shortage. At the same time, the open support of sections of the Punjabi diaspora for the anti-migrant campaign is rather ironic.


Those comfortably settled in Canada, the UK or the US, and cheering for this brand of extremist rhetoric ignore the fact that they themselves face prejudice, stereotyping and ‘demographic anxiety’ in their adopted homelands. Their departure from Punjab is, ironically, one of the very reasons why the demographic shift is happening in Punjab in the first place.

The moral cost of this hysteria is equally worrying. While it tarnishes Punjab’s image, both within India and abroad, it also places Punjabis living outside in a precarious position. Thousands of young men and women leave each year for studies, jobs and business opportunities. If Punjab normalises hostility towards migrants, it risks inviting similar treatment for its own people elsewhere.

The anti-migrant campaign represents a dangerous deviation from the state’s ethos of inclusivity and justice. While isolated crimes must be punished and steps taken to assuage the demographic anxiety, the collective demonisation of communities is both unjust and self-destructive. The true test of Punjab’s political and civil society leadership lies in their ability to defuse this wave of hatred before it pushes the state into irreversible turmoil.