“I am disgusted.” A simple yet deeply unsettling statement from Federal Police Criminal
Investigation Department director, Datuk Seri Mohd Shuhaily Mohd Zain, when pressed on the
investigation into Global Ikhwan Service and Business Holding (GISBH). His words, brief but
loaded, reflect a growing sense of outrage over what is being uncovered.

Imagine a man who claims to be a father of 34, yet admits to knowing the whereabouts of only
two of his children. This is not fiction—it is the testimony from one of the detainees connected to
GISBH, a so-called “Muslim business” that has been at the centre of a shocking investigation.

This man, one of 156 suspects detained in raids during Ops Global, is part of a system that
reeks of exploitation. Multiple wives, neglected children, and a disturbing culture of evasion
seem to be the norm within this group, according to Inspector-General of Police, Tan Sri
Razarudin Husain.

However, what truly sickens the soul isn’t just the behaviour of these individuals. It’s the
appalling response of some members of our society—the very people who should be
condemning these acts are instead defending them, spinning excuses rooted in religious and
cultural narratives.

Even more concerning, factions are attempting to shift the narrative by arguing, “We must
protect Muslim businesses.” But does the fact that it’s a Muslim-owned business justify atrocities
committed against children? This kind of reasoning promotes blind loyalty and distorts Islam for
personal gain. Such narratives, rooted in manipulation, leave no room for accountability or
morality, weaponising religion for selfish purposes.

This is not just dangerous—it is a gross misrepresentation of faith.

How have we reached a point where such blatant abuses are excused in the name of faith or
business?

Let’s be clear: there is no justification for abandoning children, for fostering environments where
men can shirk their responsibilities, abuse children and women or for cultivating a culture of
impunity. This isn’t about Islam; it’s about people hiding behind religion to justify their wrongs.

It’s Exploitation, Pure and Simple

Yet, political actors, religious figures, and community leaders are stepping forward not to call out
this grotesque misuse of power but to shield these perpetrators. They wrap themselves in the
cloak of religious righteousness, as though faith can absolve them from accountability.

One key political actor, PAS, has issued a statement expressing support for the police
investigation into GISB. While calling for action against individuals found guilty of wrongdoing,
PAS Secretary-General Datuk Seri Takiyuddin Hassan emphasised that the drive to punish
should not negatively affect the group as a whole, especially its innocent members or the
legitimate and beneficial activities of GISBH.

“PAS believes that the positive contributions of this group, including its extensive business
network, should be safeguarded from rash or unjust actions driven by impulsive sentiments,
prejudice, competition, or political agendas,” he said in a statement. He also stressed the need
for any action against GISBH to be handled with caution.

Does PAS truly believe it’s acceptable to build a business empire on the suffering of abused
children and women? Is PAS willing to overlook the exploitation of vulnerable individuals for the
sake of protecting a business network?

This is not just an insult to women, children, and families—it is an affront to the values of Islam
itself.

What’s most shocking is that we are expected to sit quietly while these narratives are pushed,
as though we are too blind or too complacent to challenge them. This is not merely
“disappointing”; it is a profound disservice to justice.

Normalised Abuses

A nation like ours, one that prides itself on diversity, human rights, and fairness, cannot stand by
while such abuses are normalised. We must reject any attempt to cloak exploitation under the
guise of religious business.

It’s time for us to face the uncomfortable truth: when businesses like GISBH are allowed to
flourish, unchecked and defended, we are not just witnessing individual wrongdoings.
We are watching a systemic failure—one where religious justification is weaponised to excuse
behaviours that should never be tolerated.

Enough is enough. If we claim to stand for justice, then our society must rise and reject these
so-called “defenders” of faith who, in reality, are nothing more than defenders of exploitation.

In addition to this, we also must not overlook the accounts of young women being indoctrinated
at universities, marrying men within the sect, and being reduced to little more than slaves and
reproductive machines for their husbands.

It is inconceivable that such abuse could occur in the name of religion. Over 400 children were
rescued from homes allegedly run by GISBH, many of them bearing physical and emotional
scars from severe neglect, physical abuse, and even sexual violence. Several senior
management, including CEO Nasiruddin Mohd Ali, have been detained for their involvement in
GISBH, which is also allegedly linked to the now-banned Al-Arqam sect.

This scandal raises urgent questions: how could these atrocities happen under the guise of
Islam, and how did we, as a society, allow this to flourish?

Unchecked Growth Under Malaysian Authorities

The roots of these concerns lie in GISBH’s historical ties to the Al-Arqam movement, which was
banned by Malaysia’s National Fatwa Council in 1994. Originally operating as Rufaqa Corp, this
rebranded entity has transformed into a significant private conglomerate with 25 subsidiaries
and assets worth RM325 million. With over 5,000 employees across 20 countries, including
notable holdings in major cities, its expansive growth raises critical questions: How did the
authorities allow a group with such a controversial past to flourish with nothing more than a
name change?

Despite being officially banned, Al-Arqam’s legacy persists through GISBH, which has
expanded its reach and influence globally. How has this organisation managed to operate
without oversight from Malaysian religious authorities? This brings up important concerns: how
did the authorities allow it to flourish simply by changing its name?

What mechanisms have enabled this controversial group not only to survive but to prosper in
Malaysia? The answer is simple: they have used Islam as a cover to continue their abuses and
misguided religious practices. In a society where questioning anything that appears even
remotely Islamic is frowned upon, many choose to turn a blind eye, relying on blind faith instead.

Women and Children Unseen Victims

Amidst the chaos, one crucial point has been overlooked: the abuse and indoctrination of
women and children, blatantly carried out for at least two generations. Religious authorities,
while actively punishing personal sins, allowed these horrific atrocities to unfold and remained
silent for five years—why?

In the end, the Islamic image portrayed by GISBH was used to blind their sharp eyes, typically
focused on enforcing punitive measures for individual transgressions. GISBH, perceived as an
Islamic organisation, certainly benefited from this, enabling it to hide the horrific internal abuse
inflicted on its members, especially women and children.

It is deeply troubling that such practices were allowed to occur, largely because religion in
Malaysia remains a taboo subject. Had these indoctrinated women been in an environment
where open discussions on religion were encouraged, they might have been able to make more
informed and empowered choices.

Patriarchy’s Benefits to Men

GISBH reeks of patriarchy, where men reaped immense benefits. Despite lacking the financial
means, many had multiple wives and some even fathered up to twenty children, completely
ignoring their responsibility to provide for their families, as mandated by Islamic law. It’s baffling
to think how a man could care for twenty children, especially in a world where providing for even
one is a challenge.

In this environment, children suffered both physical and emotional abuse, while women were
enslaved, stripped of any understanding of their rights—whether under Islamic or federal law.
People worked for the organisation without pay, and only Allah knows what other conditions they
endured. What have these women and children gone through? We will never fully grasp the
extent of their suffering but can only imagine the overwhelming pain and helplessness they must
have felt.

There is a clear reason why GISBH was allowed to thrive: as a nation, we are afraid to have
open and critical conversations about religion, especially when parochial interpretations flourish
from the mainstream narrative set by the authorities, and by extension, the government. This
narrative is deeply rooted in patriarchy, emphasising male superiority and the expectation that
women remain subservient.

Superficial Islam: Illusion of Piety

In Malaysia, there is an obsession with appearances. We have created a version of Islam that
prioritises how one looks and performs rituals rather than how one embodies the values of the
faith. It’s an illusion of piety, where the outward display of religious practice—donning specific
attire, praying without understanding, and following rituals mechanically—has taken precedence
over internalising the core teachings of compassion, justice, and mercy.

Our political leaders have exacerbated this issue, embracing a brand of “political Islam” that
focuses on image rather than substance. They encourage people to appear religious instead of
fostering a deeper, more meaningful understanding of what it means to be a Muslim. Wearing a
serban or attending a sekolah pondok does not automatically make one an expert on Islam, yet
we seem to elevate these figures without question. This blind faith in appearances over
knowledge has led us astray.

Islam, a religion of wisdom and compassion, has been reduced to mere rituals and dress codes,
while intellectual engagement and critical thought are sidelined. In a nation where politicians
compete to “out-Islam” one another, the true beauty of our multicultural, multi religious society is
lost.

Hypocrisy in Leadership

We must ask ourselves: are our Muslim leaders truly following the guidance of Allah, or are they
simply doing whatever it takes to secure votes? Being perceived as a “good Muslim” seems to
carry political weight, but this perception is often hollow. Many of our so-called “pious” leaders
face corruption charges or other scandals, revealing the hypocrisy of their outward displays of
faith. Corruption runs rampant, with even high-ranking officials, such as immigration officers at
KLIA, being arrested for illegal activities.

At the same time, intellectual debate is stifled. Open, respectful discourse on matters affecting
the community, especially within religious institutions, is actively discouraged. Diverse
perspectives on Islamic jurisprudence are not welcomed, as our authorities seem to favour a
singular, narrow interpretation of Islam.

Spirit of Islam

At its core, Islam is a religion of justice, mercy, and wisdom. It calls for intellectual engagement,
continuous learning, and compassion. Yet in Malaysia, we have drifted far from these ideals.
Instead of fostering a society that encourages understanding and respect for diverse
perspectives, we have allowed religious conservatism to dominate, leaving little room for
rational debate or intellectual growth.

The tragic case of the children under GISBH’s care is a painful reminder of what happens when
we lose sight of the values of our faith. The abuse they endured is not just a failure of one
organisation—it is a failure of our society. It is time for our leaders, both religious and political, to
reflect on the teachings of Islam and work to ensure that these principles—justice, compassion,
and humanity—are upheld for all Malaysians.

The question remains: will we continue to focus on superficial displays of religiosity, or will we
embrace the spirit of Islam and work toward a more just, compassionate, and inclusive
Malaysia?

Call for Accountability

The recent revelations surrounding the delay in addressing abuses within welfare homes linked
to GISBH highlights a troubling pattern of inaction by government agencies. Despite Jakim’s
acknowledgment that action began in 2019, with closed-door meetings involving the National
Council of Islamic Religious Affairs (MKI), the Attorney-General’s Chambers, and a special
convening of national security agencies in 2022, it took more than five years for authorities to
intervene meaningfully.

This delay highlights systemic failures across key enforcement bodies, raising critical questions
about accountability. Why were the welfare homes allowed to operate for so long despite clear
warnings? The inaction exposes gaps in coordination and execution that result in serious harm
to vulnerable populations.

Justice delayed is justice denied, and in this case, religious sensitivities appear to have
overshadowed the urgent need for protection and timely intervention. The government must
prioritise swift and transparent action to ensure that future responses are prompt and that
enforcement agencies are held accountable for their roles in safeguarding the public,
particularly children in Malaysia.