OPINION: Religion is not sanctuary

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For centuries, religion has served as a moral compass, illuminating the inner lives of individuals and offering communities a shared ethical horizon. Through faith, people have asked the most enduring human questions—about meaning, suffering, and responsibility to one another. At its best, religion has nurtured solidarity and restrained power.

But something changes when religion begins to orbit power and capital. Faith loses its sacred gravity, and institutions begin to mistake themselves for sanctuaries beyond scrutiny. Recent allegations of church–state entanglement in South Korea are not merely about one group or another. They raise a deeper and more uncomfortable question: how has society allowed religion to drift from conscience into privilege? 

One point must be stated plainly. Religion is not a sanctuary. 

Religious institutions are human institutions. They operate in society, influence politics, shape public opinion, and mobilize resources. As such, they cannot be exempt from the basic principles that govern any public actor—transparency, accountability, and equality before the law. 

Freedom of religion is a constitutional right, but it exists to protect the inner freedom of belief, not to shield opaque governance, financial secrecy, or political leverage. The moment a religious organization steps into the public sphere, it must also submit to public standards. This is not hostility toward faith. It is the foundation of a democratic order. 

The controversies surrounding certain religious movements—often criticized for doctrinal exclusivity, organizational opacity, and social conflict—bring this tension into sharp relief. Not every accusation is necessarily true, and vigilance against prejudice or moral panic is essential. Yet it is equally unconvincing to dismiss sustained and credible concerns as mere persecution. The answer lies neither in witch hunts nor in blind deference, but in calm fact-finding and the rule of law. 

If religion is to reclaim moral authority, it must first apply to itself three basic principles. 

The first is truth.
Truth withers in secrecy. Beliefs may contain mystery, but governance, finances, and public engagement must be open to scrutiny. 

The second is freedom.
Faith must be chosen, not coerced. Any religion that suppresses questions or disciplines doubt has already departed from the essence of belief. 

The third is justice.
Religion must stand closer to the vulnerable than to power. The moment faith begins to bargain with political authority, it forfeits its moral credibility. 

These principles are not aimed at one denomination or tradition. They are questions every religious community must ask of itself. Whether church, temple, cathedral, or shrine, the path to restored trust is not complicated: openness, self-examination, and humility. 

Looking ahead, this challenge becomes even more urgent. In an age of artificial intelligence—where machines increasingly replace human labor and even cognitive tasks—the role of religion may grow, not shrink. Technology delivers efficiency, but it cannot explain meaning or purpose. Here, religion could once again become a refuge for human dignity. But only if it is open rather than authoritarian, spiritual rather than institutional. 

Korea, in this respect, holds a distinctive cultural asset. The ancient ideals of Hongik Ingan—to benefit humanity—and Jaesei Ihwa—to harmonize the world—express a universal ethic rooted in Korean tradition. They do not belong to any single faith. When combined with Christian love, Buddhist compassion, Confucian benevolence, and Taoist respect for nature, they suggest the possibility of a shared moral language—a Korean model of spirituality oriented toward maturity rather than expansion. 

Such spirituality would measure success not by numbers, but by depth. Not by conversion, but by healing. Not by institutional size, but by the quality of human life it helps sustain. 

Religion is not a sanctuary.
But the values religion exists to protect—truth, freedom, and justice—remain sacred. A faith rebuilt on transparency and responsibility, one that bridges humanity, nature, technology, and meaning, is not only a task for Korean religion. It is an invitation to the world. 

*The author is the President of Global Economic and Financial Research Institute (GEFRI)

 
Abraham Kwak