When religion becomes politics: Who is really creating the tension over 'illegal temples'?

Malaysia has always been a country built on delicate balances – between faiths, cultures and communities.

The Federal Constitution recognises Islam as the religion of the federation, while guaranteeing the freedom of other religions to be practised in peace and harmony.

Yet today, we are seeing an increasingly dangerous trend: religious issues being amplified not for solutions but for political theatre.

One recent example is the debate surrounding so-called illegal temples. Some groups demand immediate demolition, others demand relocation, while many ordinary people are simply asking a much deeper question: why are these issues suddenly becoming political weapons?

Before we jump to emotional reactions, it is worth stepping back and asking a few honest questions.

Law or political theatre?

Let us be clear on one point. If any religious structure – whether a temple, surau, church or shrine – is built on land that legally belongs to the government or to private individuals, then the matter must be addressed according to the law. No one should dispute that.

But law is not only about enforcement. It is also about wisdom, order and social stability.

Demolishing religious structures overnight may satisfy certain political narratives, but it can also create deep resentment between communities. A more measured approach – such as relocation, dialogue and reasonable transition periods – is often the path taken in multi-religious societies around the world.

Giving time for relocation is not weakness. In fact, it can be a sign of strength and confidence in governance.

What is troubling, however, is how some voices have chosen to inflame the situation with racially charged language and rhetoric.

Take the use of the word keling – a term widely regarded as a derogatory slur against people of Indian descent since the mid-20th Century.

When individuals who claim to represent religious values resort to such language, it raises an uncomfortable question. Should they not demonstrate the ethics and character associated with those values?

Changing one’s religion does not erase one’s roots or identity. More importantly, one’s religion should elevate character, not diminish it.

Contradictions in the narrative

We should also examine the contradictions that exist within political narratives.

In Kedah, the state executive council has previously approved ‘reserved certificate’ status for the sites of eight Hindu temples, a policy that the menteri besar himself later cited publicly.

If formalising or relocating temple sites through such land arrangements is accepted as responsible governance in Kedah, why is an equivalent approach criticised in other states?

Why do some activists mobilise strongly against relocation exercises in one state, yet appear far less vocal when comparable policies are implemented under different political leaderships?

At that point, we must ask whether the core objection truly concerns legal process and community rights, or whether it is driven more by partisan alignment and who happens to be in power.

Where was enforcement?

Another important question must be asked.

Many of these temples did not appear overnight. Some were built decades ago, even before independence. Others have existed quietly for generations. If that is the case, then where were the local authorities during all those years?

A temple, mosque or church cannot be constructed in a single day. It takes time, materials, labour and visibility. Local councils are responsible for monitoring land use and enforcing regulations.

So the real question becomes: where were the enforcement mechanisms when these structures were first built?

If local authorities allowed the situation to remain or develop for decades, is it fair to suddenly place the blame entirely on the communities who worship there?

Perhaps the issue is not simply about “illegal temples”. Perhaps it is also about administrative failure. In that sense, so-called illegal temples may actually be symptoms of inactive or negligent local governance.

The cost of outrage

This brings us to another troubling dimension: the politicisation of race and religion.

Malaysia has seen periods of remarkable harmony, where communities respected each other’s spaces and traditions. Yet today, certain voices seem more interested in provoking outrage than in finding practical solutions.

Why? It is because outrage travels faster than reason. In the age of social media, controversy generates attention, attention generates followers, and followers generate political capital.

But while some gain popularity from such rhetoric, society as a whole pays the price. Communal trust erodes while suspicion grows. And the social fabric that holds Malaysia together becomes increasingly fragile.

What people in Malaysia need today is not louder voices, but wiser leadership – leadership that recognises that harmony is not built through confrontation; leadership that understands that justice must be applied consistently, not selectively, depending on political convenience.

Wiser leadership would ask the difficult questions: if relocation or regularisation works in one state, why not in another? If enforcement is necessary today, why was it ignored for decades? If religious respect is demanded from others, are we demonstrating it ourselves?

And most importantly: are these issues being raised to solve problems – or simply to create new divisions?

Malaysia’s strength has never been uniformity. It lies in the ability of diverse communities to coexist, negotiate and move forward together.

Turning sensitive issues into communal battlegrounds does not protect religion. It only weakens the nation.

Perhaps the real challenge today is not about temples or land status. Perhaps the real challenge is whether we still have the wisdom to choose harmony over provocation.

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