From Ameena Siddiqi
The directive to replace the term “LGBT” with “deviant culture”, as reportedly announced by deputy religious affairs minister Marhamah Rosli, is not a minor semantic adjustment. It’s a political act with legal and social consequences.
When the state labels a segment of its own population “deviant”, it does more than articulate moral disagreement. It codifies stigma, signalling that certain citizens stand outside the circle of dignity and equal protection.
State language carries institutional authority. It shapes enforcement culture, public attitudes and bureaucratic behaviour.
The Federal Constitution does not recognise categories of “acceptable” and “deviant” citizens. Article 8(1) guarantees that all persons are equal before the law and entitled to equal protection.
This is not ornamental phrasing. It’s the moral and legal spine of our democracy. Once official discourse marks some citizens as inherently lesser, that spine begins to bend.
Recent statements by the religious affairs minister have emphasised that religion must remain central to building a united nation amid economic and social challenges.
Religion holds a powerful and respected place in Malaysian society. Yet the ethical tradition of Islam is rooted in justice (‘adl), compassion (rahmah) and the removal of harm.
When religious authority is exercised through labelling rather than reform, it risks weakening those principles. True moral leadership requires confronting corruption, violence and inequality with the same urgency used to police identity.
The deeper issue is not vocabulary, it’s selective moral power. The language of “deviance” has been directed at identity rather than at conduct that demonstrably harms others.
Malaysia records, on average, five rape cases every day. Each case represents a woman or child whose safety was violated and whose dignity was compromised.
These are not abstract social anxieties. They are acts of violence. Yet the national framing of sexual violence remains technical and reactive. There is no comparable national urgency declaring rape a structural crisis demanding sustained reform.
Billions of ringgit have been lost to corruption across administrations. Corruption isn’t a private moral lapse. It’s an abuse of public trust that quietly strips resources from hospitals, shelters, enforcement agencies and social protection systems. It weakens institutions meant to safeguard citizens. Still, systemic corruption is rarely described in sweeping moral language, despite its measurable national harm.
Women who secure court-ordered maintenance frequently find themselves navigating years of enforcement proceedings while raising children alone. Legal recognition without enforcement offers little relief. Economic abandonment destabilises families and entrenches inequality. Yet such conduct doesn’t provoke the same urgency of moral condemnation.
Gender-related killings of women occur in patterns that Malaysia doesn’t systematically classify as femicide. Without consistent recognition, prevention remains fragmented. The readiness to name identities as deviant stands in sharp contrast with the hesitation to name structural violence against women.
These contrasts reveal a troubling imbalance. In a constitutional democracy, the distinction between identity and conduct is fundamental. Criminal acts like rape, corruption, violence and abandonment warrant moral clarity and legal accountability. Identity does not.
When the state reserves its strongest moral language for who people are rather than for harm that can be measured, prevented and prosecuted, governance shifts from protection to performance.
Article 8 does not promise equality only to those who conform to prevailing norms. It promises equal protection to all persons. Constitutional democracy is tested not when rights are comfortable, but when they’re contested.
Selective moral outrage weakens institutional credibility. It suggests that labelling is easier than reform, and that symbolism is easier than enforcement.
Corruption, weak enforcement of maintenance orders, gaps in addressing sexual violence and failure to systematically confront gender-related killings; all of these erode equality before the law.
Renaming communities doesn’t strengthen governance, nor does it reduce violence, restore stolen public funds, ensure children are supported, or make women safer in their homes.
It does, however, make exclusion visible.
A government that seeks moral authority must demonstrate it through consistent protection of the vulnerable and unwavering commitment to accountability. Moral language untethered from structural reform risks becoming an instrument of division rather than a guide to justice.
Human dignity is not divisible. Equality before the law is not selective.
The true measure of governance is not who can be labelled “deviant”, but whether power is exercised with fairness, restraint and courage – especially when it’s hardest to do so.
Ameena Siddiqi is communications manager at women’s rights group SIS Forum (Malaysia).
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.
