Introduction

Despite Malaysia’s push for multiculturalism, as demonstrated by its 1999 adoption of the slogan “Malaysia Truly Asia”, members of religious minorities are struggling to reconcile this idealised narrative with their lived experience.

According to the 2020 International Religious Report, while Islam is the state religion, all religions are welcomed to worship peacefully. Malaysia is a multi-religious nation with a population made up from 60% Muslim, 20% Buddhist, 9% Christian, 6% Hindu and 1% other.

While unity is a paramount concept in Malaysia’s nation, obstacles for religious minorities abound, particularly when their faiths conflict with state-sanctioned beliefs. This may have led to the manifestation of psychological burden that impacts the wellbeing of these communities.

On a larger scale, a more traditional perspective on religion may also result in the inability to acknowledge the existence of mental illness or disturbances, leading to the preservation of stigmatisation of anything linked to the concept of mental health in Malaysia.

This piece explores the complex intersection of religious intolerance and mental health in Malaysia, highlighting the psychological impact on religious minorities and the stigma surrounding mental illness. It calls for a mindset shift and interfaith dialogues to foster a more inclusive, compassionate society.

The Psychological Impact of Religious Intolerance

The deprivation or restriction on religious freedom has a deep impact on the mental health of individuals, as it is associated with a great sense of identity and belongingness in society. The resulting moderate suffering may usually manifest in mild symptoms, but extreme suffering could lead to a lot of anxiety, melancholy, existential crises and lower self-esteem. Concealed beliefs could also lead to trauma.

State protection of religious liberty could avert these as it minimises the risk of sectarian strife and mistreatment of minority groups within communities. While Malaysia’s legislative frameworks do signal a commitment to religious pluralism on paper, institutional biases act as significant obstacles towards achieving these goals in practice.

As an outcome, religious minorities in Malaysia are frequently left out of the national narratives and have difficulties in attaining acceptance and recognition.

Traditional examples include the controversy surrounding the use of the word “Allah” and the issue of conversion, which has become an unfathomably complex process leading to drawn-out court battles and mandatory counselling. The latter has also prompted some who consider converting to seek religious freedom in a different vein.

Religious Liberty and Societal Marginalisation

Stigma is a major barrier to seeking treatment for mental health disorders in Malaysia. The term stigma comes from the notion that certain scenarios or afflictions cause someone to fall outside of what is considered the society’s norm.

Though Malaysia is home to many world-class mental health facilities, many individuals are too afraid to go for help because they fear being shunned by family, friends and the community. These fears cause self-stigma and social isolation that deter people from asking for help. To illustrate, 80% of Malaysians had refrained from seeking help previously due to fear of judgement or stigma.

Certain interpretations of religious tenets could result in stigmatisation as well. For example, some religious communities continue to ascribe mental health issues to demonic possession or divine retribution. At other times, mental health problems could also be perceived by the same communities as shameful and as evidence of moral failure, thus perpetuating the stigma of mental illness.

This perception that considers mental illness a weakness of faith and the spirit – not a medical condition that needs intervention – introduces sense of guilt and culpability in the hearts of those who suffer from mental illness. Many who live with mental illness claim that they conceal their condition to protect their families’ honour, their own dignity and communal acceptance.

Religious hegemony could also force individuals with beliefs and belief systems outside the determined parameters to conceal them. In Malaysia, where Islam is the state-sanctioned religion, mental health issues are often buried and hidden to protect the family honour and ensure that social acceptance is maintained. This is a hurdle for both Muslims and other religious communities to achieve the aforementioned national unity.

To be fair, this problem does not only manifest among Malaysia’s Muslim community. Within the Hindu community, those who are actively preaching religious beliefs are more prone to stigmatisation, because they are judged more harshly than others. This is because the “public practice” of religiosity (e.g., social participation in religious practices, events or rites) may act as both a buffer/protector and a potential marker of stigma (e.g. social status or prejudice).

Moreover, while mindfulness is prioritised in Buddhism, the need to conform to religious conventions may also increase stigma. A sense of belongingness to a compassionate and supportive religious community can foster empowerment and emotional resilience within an individual. However, the pressure of not meeting community expectations can intensify the stigma around mental health issues. Those struggling may feel compelled to hide the reality of their challenge out of fear of criticism or rejection from their faith community.

Such patterns of mental health stigma exist across a variety of religious communities. There is, therefore, the need for leaders of faith to be compassionate in order to make people feel safe to seek help.

The Need for Change

As a potential remedy, there ought to be limits on the use of religiosity in labelling and stereotyping that could lead to prejudice and other forms of mental health stigma. Over time, the conceptualisation of religious beliefs within mental health stigma creates a barrier that hampers the efforts to reduce the latter.

The role of religiosity is twofold—it can either serve as an aggravating factor or be a source of healing, depending on how communities define and approach religious teachings.

Studies show that religiosity might have a negative relationship with mental health stigma. Other research suggests that for those who practice their beliefs in accordance with their faith’s ideals, religiosity can serve as a protective factor, improving global mental health and wellness.

Such a shift helps prioritise compassion over punishment in helping to reduce stigma and foster a more empathetic perspective towards those experiencing psychological distress. It is also reflective of the growing awareness within the nation towards mental health issues as a societal issue rather than individualised struggles.

Religious leaders also have important roles in determining how their faith communities understand mental health. Through their platform, they could either encourage acceptance or endorse stigma. Those that espouse the virtues of compassion, empathy and support for people with mental illness can definitely help reduce stigma and elevate acceptance.

Interfaith Dialogue as a Tool

One of the most important factors in building a mentally healthy and resilient nation is the advancement towards covenantal pluralism. This emphasises the fostering of an inclusive society rooted in interfaith understanding. It could only be achieved through the cultivation of religious tolerance and gaining knowledge of other faiths to prevent misconceptions stemmed from ignorance.

Historical and current examples from countries such as Myanmar, Sri Lanka, China, Indonesia and India – as well as the long-standing conflict between Palestine and Israel – show how unchecked religious intolerance and deep-seated prejudice ultimately lead to violence and systemic oppression.

These incidents highlight the urgent need to address religious intolerance before it incites conflict and violence within the society. To bridge the divide created by religious divisions, interfaith initiatives and education programmes are vital.

In certain regions, Rukun Tetangga (Neighbourhood Watch) programme has been introduced to promote interfaith alliances by creating a sense of togetherness and empathy amongst neighbours of varying religions and ethnicities. While it shows some promise as a grassroots tool for reducing divisions, its effectiveness remains inconsistent as it relies heavily on local leadership and community willingness to engage.

Civil society initiatives to promote interfaith discussions have been led by the Malaysian Consultative Council of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Sikhism and Taoism (MCCBCHST), which has been instrumental in promoting interfaith dialogue and religious harmony. It aims to grow mutual understanding and tolerance among different religious communities. These efforts respect the rights of all individuals while encouraging greater inclusivity and acceptance.

By reducing conflicts and promoting a sense of shared empathy, MCCBCHST’s initiatives contribute to broader societal shifts toward more supportive attitudes. These dialogues lay the foundation for future advocacy, helping to create an environment that could lead to greater support with compassion and an inclusive approach.

Conclusion

Mental health in Malaysia is often viewed through the lens of religious norms, continuing to shape the experiences of those struggling with mental health issues and religious minorities. As the nation continues to progress and awareness of mental health grows, greater attention must be given to fostering unity within the communities. This moment calls not only for acknowledgment of these challenges but also for active efforts to address them. The legal decriminalisation of suicide attempts marks a significant step forward in reducing stigma. However, it must come hand in hand with the promotion of inclusivity and understanding across religious communities. Interfaith dialogue will be pivotal in fostering a society where mental health is treated with respect and compassion.

Part of an ongoing article series on Indonesia’s regional elections 2024.

Introduction

Indonesia’s recently concluded regional head elections revealed a significant yet underexplored phenomenon: The participation of reformed terrorists, often dubbed as “credible voices”, in the democratic process.

For individuals who once opposed Pancasila and democracy, this marks a profound shift. It also carries far-reaching implications for Indonesia’s democratic consolidation and deradicalisation efforts.

Based on an exclusive interview with reformed terrorists, this piece highlights their participation in the elections, evolving views on Pancasila, aspirations for a democratic system and perspectives on political Islam, highlighting the challenges as well as opportunities of their sociopolitical integration.

Evolving Views

Radical and terrorist groups in Indonesia, such as Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) and Jamaah Ansharut Daulah (JAD), have long condemned democracy and Pancasila as un-Islamic, advocating instead for a sharia-guided Islamic caliphate as an alternative.

These groups view democracy as a concept imposed by Islam’s enemies – the West – and perceive Pancasila as incompatible with their interpretation of Islam, owing to its pluralistic and inclusive principles.

Figures like Aman Abdurrahman, an Indonesian Daesh ideologue, have labelled the Indonesian government as kufr (infidel) and thagut (tyrannical), labelling Muslims who support democracy or Pancasila as equally guilty of kufr. This opposition often leads to violence, particularly during elections, as exemplified by the arrest of suspected terrorists months before last year’s presidential election.

For some, however, this rejection of democracy and Pancasila has begun to shift. Reformed terrorists, through deradicalisation programmes in prison and community engagement, have transitioned from staunch opposition to active participation in democratic processes.

This is consistent with Walter Lippmann’s pseudo-environment concept, which shows how people act based on narratives and cultural influences, not reality. These radical individuals have stopped opposing democracy once they are placed in a community that challenged their previous beliefs with alternative narratives, ones that promote democratic values and moderate Islamic teachings.

After their release from prison, reformed terrorists now view democratic participation not as a betrayal of their faith but as a way to contribute positively to society. The discussion below provides some examples.

Examples from West Java

According to the National Counterterrorism Agency, as of April 2024, Indonesia is home to 2,059 reformed terrorists, approximately 43% of whom have either been conditionally released or pledged allegiance to the state (abandoned their radical views).

In the lead-up to the 2024 regional elections, several political candidates sought their support, recognising their symbolic and strategic influence.

Munir Kartono, a reformed terrorist and credible voice from West Java, shared that a regent (bupati) candidate approached him during the campaign, seeking to leverage his influence within a community that includes nearly 50 reformed terrorists. While Munir declined to endorse a specific candidate, he actively promoted peaceful and successful elections.

Once influenced by Daesh-JAD narratives, Munir’s perspective shifted thanks to the deradicalisation programmes he participated in. These programmes introduced him to alternative narratives and facilitated intensive engagements with figures such as academics and religious leaders, broadening his understanding of Pancasila and democracy.

Though previously an opponent of democracy, Munir is now part and parcel of the nation’s democratic process. He views events like regional elections as opportunities to contribute to the society. Munir now believes that democracy, as a concept, should not be conflated with its flawed implementation, asserting that if problems arise, the actions of individuals, not the concept itself, are to blame.

Even now, Munir acknowledges that while he has embraced Pancasila and democracy, he remains critical of contesting election candidates. He carefully evaluates their campaign promises and takes into consideration aspects such as their appearance, style and Islamic identity—although the latter is no longer a dominant factor in his decision-making process.

Perspective from East Java

Arif Budi Setyawan, a credible voice and former JI affiliate from East Java, has had the same experience.

Like Munir, he was approached by political candidates, including a regent candidate and someone running for the Regional People’s Representative Council. He was even invited to join a candidate’s campaign team – though he was later snubbed.

Arif explained that his initial rejection of Pancasila and democracy stemmed from his perception that these systems are corrupt and flawed. This is a demonstration of Lippmann’s stereotype concept, whereby people use their cognitive shortcuts (or simplified reasoning) to simplify complex realities into fixed ideas (or rigid assumptions).

In Arif’s mind, radical narratives previously reduced democracy into symbols of corruption and un-Islamic governance, reinforcing his opposition and discouraging participation in democratic processes.

However, deradicalisation programmes challenged and dismantled these stereotypes. Arif came to see democracy as distinct from its flawed practitioners, recognising it as a framework that, when aligned with Pancasila, could benefit both Muslims and the broader community. He believed that adhering to Pancasila helps Muslims achieve their goals and aspirations.

Arif views regional elections as equally critical as presidential elections due to their localised impact. He believes regional leaders’ work and promises can be more closely monitored, perceiving voting as an ikhtiar (effort) towards a better future for his religion.

“If the candidate doesn’t deliver, it’s not our fault—we’ve done our part. The rest is on them,” according to him.

Arif prioritises realistic campaign promises and proven track records when selecting candidates, rejecting superficial qualities or overly idealistic agendas. This reflects a significant departure from the radical stereotypes he once held, as he now evaluates candidates with a more nuanced understanding of democracy’s potential to drive meaningful change.

His emphasis on candidates’ knowledge, coupled with guidance from respected ulama, reflects his reformed approach to democratic participation, free from the oversimplifications that previously shaped his worldview.

Symbols and Associations

As the majority religion in Indonesia, Islam has significantly influenced the country’s politics since before independence in 1945. Consequently, the adoption of religious symbols and associations in campaigns continues to be a prominent feature of Indonesian politics, particularly during elections at both national and regional levels.

For instance, candidates who utilise religious symbols, such as female candidates wearing hijab, tend to receive more significant support from Muslim voters compared to those who do not.

Like Islam in politics, radical Islamist groups have also been a recurring presence throughout Indonesia’s sociopolitical history, from the Darul Islam movement in 1948 to the emergence of terrorist groups like JI in 1993 and JAD in 2015. The recent disbandment of JI in June 2024 raises the possibility that its members may become more active in formal political processes.

However, reformed terrorists like Munir and Arif view political Islam in Indonesia as far from ideal, both before and after their transformation. As shown above, they acknowledge the gap between the ideals of political Islam and its practical implementation in the country.

Munir, for instance, observes that political Islam in his regional community remains closely tied to identity, be it Islamist or not. Yet, he believes that individuals can embrace multiple identities rather than being confined to a singular one, suggesting that one can be both an Islamist and a nationalist simultaneously.

In the context of regional elections, Munir expressed that while he does not criticise voters who base their choices on religious preferences, he emphasises that these preferences must not lead to violence or manipulation of religious leaders (ulama and kyai) for political gain. Overall, he believes that Indonesian political Islam, in its current form, falls short of embodying true Islamic values and integrity, often fostering division instead of unity.

In addition, Arif similarly highlights religious leaders’ significant influence in regional politics, particularly in areas like East Java, where the Nahdliyin culture remains strong. He observes that politicians often leverage religious leaders and pesantren owners with large followings to shape voter preferences, highlighting their utilisation of religious symbols and associations.

The bottom line is that both Munir and Arif are concerned with the “exploitation” of religious figures as political tools. This sentiment reflects broader issues in Indonesia’s national and regional elections, where the interplay of faith and politics compromises the integrity of both.

Democratic Vision

Overall, despite their critiques, Munir and Arif emphasise the importance of political participation and the role of religious identity in shaping voters’ choices, especially in regional elections. Having once held radical views, they now stress the importance of democratic participation, such as in elections, while critically engaging with political Islam, reflecting their transformation as reformed individuals.

Both envision a future where Indonesia’s politics matures, realising its democratic ideals guided by the principles of Pancasila and a genuine commitment to public welfare. They hope for national and regional leaders who actively listen to public aspirations and work to curb money politics, recognising its corrosive impact on the very democracy they have painstakingly come to trust. In the end, the participation of reformed terrorists in Indonesia’s regional elections symbolises a broader ideological shift and a reconciliation between faith and democracy. It also indicates the success of deradicalisation programmes in Indonesia, offering hope for a more inclusive and resilient democratic future.

Introduction

It was proposed that the Malaysian government needs to be cautious in responding to this latest development out of Afghanistan’s storied history to avoid further schism between supporters and detractors of the Taliban in Malaysia. Among supporters, the most vocal is the Islamist PAS party, which is currently part of the loose Perikatan Nasional coalition that makes up the federal government in Malaysia. Two months after PAS President’s reflections on the Taliban in August 2021, this development was again broached during the 62^nd PAS Youth Muktamar (general assembly). This time, Khairil Nizam Khirudin in his former capacity as Youth Chief, proposed that if China, a Communist country, could establish relationship with the Taliban, Malaysia should do the same as a nation with a majority Muslim population. This was ostensibly intended to humiliate Malaysia into action. However, logical counters included how Malaysia, unlike China, has no immediate geopolitical concern that necessitates a diplomatic relation with the Taliban since Malaysia and Afghanistan are situated in different regions.

Working Within the System

Beyond party leadership, it is seemingly quiet at the grassroot level for three potential reasons. First, PAS and its allies in the Perikatan Nasional were more focused on domestic issues such as the recently concluded Melaka state election in which Perikatan Nasional faced off against UMNO, a former ally of PAS in the short-lived Muafakat Nasional. Second, and more importantly, PAS members at the moment are split, especially in Kedah and Terengganu, between those who are in support of the realization of hudud law and those against it. Notably, most, if not all members of PAS are supportive of the idea of implementing hudud law as part of the end goal for the party, especially after the split in 2015 with progressive Malays who then formed the Amanah party. However, the crack today is between those who agree and disagree that Malaysia is ready for hudud implementation as part of Syariah penal and criminal code. In other words, PAS members would not want to diverge from the expected norm of a Muslim in support of ‘Syariah-ization’, but reservation continues regarding the actual implementation of hudud in multiracial Malaysia. Those who are in support of the implementation of hudud law would be assumed to also be more supportive of the Taliban because of its vocal proposal to implement a specific form of Islamic rule in Afghanistan. The Taliban would become the standard-bearer for these PAS supporters. However, it must be noted that not all members within the party are supportive of such a move to imitate the Taliban and hastily implement hudud law. Thus, it would be very unwise for PAS to bring up the Taliban issue at the grassroot level for fear of losing support by its ‘moderate’ members. Lastly, even among PAS leaders, several were unimpressed when the party is likened to the Taliban. Despite support by the party’s president for a supposedly reformed Taliban, other party leaders from Selangor and Kelantan have voiced their discontent whenever the party is linked with the Taliban. They accuse the opposition of doing so to portray PAS as backward and intolerant. This shows that the party is unwilling to play up the Taliban issue nor tolerate PAS being equated with the Taliban at the risk of upsetting party members and the general Malaysian population.

As a political party that has participated in electoral politics since before independence, PAS is more pragmatic than idealistic, and since 2020, it has been argued that the party pivoted to becoming opportunistic. Unlike the Taliban, PAS has always sought power via the ballot box, even when they claimed that the Taliban takeover was a people-led initiative. The party appears to understand that the foundation of a stable and legitimate government lies within the people’s support. Therefore, PAS is far from a radical party but instead has always been willing to work within the parameters of the constitution. The democratic nature of PAS is deduced in three ways: the lack of anti-systemic strategies such as revolts and violence, the acceptance of losses in election, and the democratic practices in party elections.

Undoubtedly, PAS has always been an ideological party with the establishment of an Islamic state as its end goal. Without such narrative, there would be little distinction between PAS and UMNO. But creating an Islamic State similar to the Taliban’s rule from 1996 until 2001 is more of an idealistic goal than a possible experiment for the party. Being practical, PAS will maintain its character as an electorally active party in Malaysia that seeks power through legitimate channels with a specific Islamist ideology as a means to gain support and win elections. They would not want to wrest power beyond the ballot box because it would not work in Malaysia, and they lack the capacity for it. PAS may rhetorically support the Taliban’s implementation of ‘Islamic law’, but it knows that the Muslim Brotherhood model of working within the system is more realistic to be applied in multicultural Malaysia.

The truly ideologue among PAS would perhaps be inspired by the Taliban and may want to see more concrete actions within Malaysia, but not to the point of going beyond the ballot box. They already had their ‘mini-victories’ now that they are in the federal government since March 2020. Among those victories are the state of Kelantan’s Criminal Syariah code which came into effect on 1 November 2021. Among the provisions are distortion of Islamic teachings, disrespecting the month of Ramadan, destroying houses of worship, and 21 other offences. Besides that, the northern state of Kedah, which is also under PAS’ rule, has decided not to renew the business licenses of 4D lottery shops in November 2021, with a similar policy already in place in Kelantan and Terengganu. However, it can be argued that the latter two states have about 94 percent Malay population as opposed to 76 percent in Kedah; therefore the ban would affect a larger number of non-Muslims in Kedah. Nonetheless, PAS has made progress now that they are part of the larger coalition in government. Although these ‘wins’ are in states ruled by PAS, there is no denying that the strengthening of its political position at the federal level allows for these changes to take place. It must be noted that these changes were done through legal channels, such as the passing of the Criminal Syariah code in the state legislature in 2019. Thus, the possibility of PAS taking over Malaysia in a fashion similar to the Taliban seems very unlikely.

PAS has always been supportive of other countries or territories that have succeeded in implementing hudud law such as in Aceh and Brunei. However, the pragmatism of PAS cannot be denied even at the international stage such as PAS supporting Iran on the Palestinian issue at the same time it continues to warn of the danger of Shiism. By looking at recent events or even at its own history, PAS’ sensible approach to politics becomes clear. The oft-cited example is the fact that PAS has yet to table the controversial RUU 355 bill on enhancing the Syariah courts (although the government has said it is working on it). Since PAS became part of the federal government in 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic, they have argued that it is not the right time to proceed with the tabling of the bill. In an interview with the author, an MP from PAS even argued that this proves the party’s commitment towards one of the objectives of shariah, which is to protect the lives of the people. On another note, the party was on board with the Perikatan Nasional’s female candidate for the Chief Minister of Melaka despite previously being against the nomination of Wan Azizah Wan Ismail as the Menteri Besar for Selangor. Historically, we saw PAS working closely with the left-wing Democratic Action Party until 2015. That alliance was abandoned for strategic reasons because the party was losing support in the Malay heartland. Instead of imitating the Taliban, we see that PAS’ trajectory is very much dependent on the semi-democratic context of Malaysia than mere ideological zeal.