When religion serves power, not people

Karl Marx’s description of religion as the “opium of the masses” is one of the most quoted — and often misunderstood — phrases in modern political thought. Marx was not simply dismissing religion as falsehood and dangerous. Rather, he was warning about its potential misuse as a sedative: a means of keeping people docile within unjust systems. This insight, while shaped by 19th-century European struggles, resonates uncomfortably with the way religion has sometimes been used in Pakistan.

I hold no hostility towards faith. I believe religion, in its true spirit, is essential for individual moral and intellectual growth and for the health of society. The ethical framework, compassion and sense of accountability it inspires are irreplaceable. The West’s gradual abandonment of religion has inflicted moral and social damage that cannot easily be reversed. But Marx’s warning becomes painfully relevant when religion’s soul is turned into a mere instrument of power.

One way this happens is by recasting poverty as an unchangeable divine decree. When people are told that their economic hardship is fated and that struggling for a better order is tantamount to defying God, the moral drive for justice — which is at the heart of every prophetic mission — is neutralised. This is not the religion of the Qur’an, which commands believers to stand firmly for justice, even against themselves or their kin. Rather, it is fatalism, dressed up as piety, that serves the interests of the powerful by discouraging any challenge to the prevailing order.

Another strategy is to divorce religion from reason. By insisting that faith has nothing to do with intellect, the religious elite can close the door to questioning, scrutiny and critical engagement. This is a stark departure from Islam’s formative centuries, when aql (reason) and naql (transmitted knowledge) were seen as partners in the search for truth. Past great scholars debated, explored and integrated knowledge from multiple civilisations precisely because they believed reason was a divine gift, not a threat to faith.

A third means of control is to declare that the past is not a source of guidance but a closed model to be copied. Reverence for early generations becomes dogma when it is wielded to shut down ijtihad (independent reasoning). When the door to fresh interpretation is bolted, religion risks becoming a relic, unable to address the complex moral and social challenges of the present. This intellectual stagnation is not the legacy of Islam’s pioneers, who themselves broke new ground and grappled with the realities of their time.

Perhaps the most potent tactic, however, is the stirring of collective emotion under the cry that “Islam is in danger.” This slogan, repeated often enough, becomes a shield for the interests of those who wield it. The actual threats to their own authority are rebranded as threats to the faith, turning legitimate criticism into a supposed act of treachery. Over time, such manipulations erode public trust in religion itself.

The tragedy is that the misuse of religion achieves precisely what its abusers claim to resist. By emptying it of its ethical core, they make religion appear irrational, oppressive or irrelevant, particularly to younger generations searching for authenticity. Instead of being a force that challenges injustice, inspires critical thought and nourishes the spirit, it becomes an anaesthetic — Marx’s opium — that soothes the conscience while the structures of oppression remain intact.

Yet this fate is not inevitable. The same religion that has been misused as a tool of control has also been a source of liberation and enlightenment. The prophetic tradition is one of moral courage, intellectual openness and resistance to tyranny — whether from kings, clerics or popular opinion. Rediscovering that spirit requires stripping away the layers of manipulation and returning to the essence: a faith that engages reason, upholds justice and speaks truth to power.