Faith Assets Need Secular Oversight As Temple Fraud Exposes Governance Vacuum

By K Raveendran

The alleged theft of donations from the Ayodhya Ram Temple has pushed a long-simmering question into the national foreground: who should guard the wealth of religious institutions when faith, money and power converge without adequate public accountability?

The issue is not confined to Ayodhya, nor to Hindu institutions. Across denominations, religious endowments, shrines, trusts, churches, mosques, waqf properties, mutts, gurudwaras and pilgrimage centres command vast public confidence and substantial material assets. They receive cash donations, jewellery, land, securities, foreign contributions and digital payments. Many also run schools, hospitals, charities, hostels and welfare networks. Yet the systems meant to protect these assets are often uneven, opaque and vulnerable to manipulation by insiders, contractors, political patrons and intermediaries.

The Ayodhya episode is especially disturbing because of the symbolic weight of the institution. The Ram Temple is not an ordinary shrine. It was built after decades of mass mobilisation, litigation, political conflict and emotional investment by millions of devotees. Donations came not merely as money, but as acts of belief. When allegations of organised pilferage, cash diversion, foreign-currency recovery and weak internal controls arise in such a setting, the damage goes beyond financial loss. It strikes at the moral authority of those entrusted with managing a sacred public trust.

The decision to re-audit several years of temple accounts, the formation of a special investigation process, resignations linked to the controversy and political protests around the issue suggest that the matter has moved beyond routine administrative failure. Even if the final criminal liability is determined only after investigation and trial, the governance failure is already evident. A system that allows donation theft to become organised, or even credibly alleged at scale, cannot be defended as merely the work of a few rogue individuals. It points to inadequate safeguards, excessive concentration of control and poor external scrutiny.

Religious institutions occupy a difficult constitutional and moral space. They are not commercial companies, yet they handle wealth on a scale that would require strict compliance if held by a corporation. They are not arms of the state, yet they often enjoy public concessions, police protection, tax privileges, land grants and political patronage. They are not private family properties in the ordinary sense, yet their management is frequently dominated by closed groups, hereditary interests or networks answerable only to themselves. This ambiguity has created the perfect terrain for mismanagement.

The instinctive response in India has often been state control, especially in the case of Hindu temples. Several states have long exercised control over temples through endowment departments and statutory boards. That model was justified historically as a way to prevent hereditary abuse, protect temple assets and ensure public access. Yet experience has shown that government control is no guarantee of integrity. It can replace one form of capture with another. Bureaucrats may lack religious sensitivity, politicians may use temple revenues for patronage, and administrators may treat sacred institutions as revenue-generating departments rather than community trusts.

At the other end lies the argument that religious communities should be left entirely to manage their own institutions. That view has emotional appeal, particularly where state intervention appears selective or discriminatory. But it ignores the record of internal capture. Many religious institutions have seen allegations of land alienation, donation siphoning, inflated contracts, gold and silver misappropriation, manipulation of appointment powers, under-reporting of income, unauthorised leases and factional control by clerical or lay elites. Faith alone is not an audit mechanism. Devotion cannot substitute for governance.

The answer, therefore, cannot be either blanket government control or unregulated autonomy. What India needs is a secular, arms-length accountability framework that treats religious wealth as public-trust wealth without interfering in religious practice. The distinction is crucial. The state has no business deciding rituals, doctrine, liturgy, worship methods, clerical legitimacy or theological questions. But it has a legitimate interest in ensuring that assets donated by the public are not stolen, diverted, encroached upon or used for purposes contrary to the trust under which they were given.

A statutory national commission for religious institutional governance deserves serious consideration. Its remit should not be denominational. It should cover major public religious institutions across faiths, subject to reasonable thresholds of income, assets, public donations, landholdings or charitable operations. Such a body should not manage temples, mosques, churches or gurudwaras directly. It should supervise governance standards, mandate transparent accounting, prescribe independent audits, require asset registers, enforce conflict-of-interest rules, examine major land transactions and ensure that complaints are investigated through due process.

The secular character of such a commission would be its strongest safeguard. It should not be a Hindu temple board, a waqf authority, a church regulator or a politically appointed religious council. It should be a public accountability body staffed by experts in law, audit, public finance, heritage management, charity regulation, digital payments, forensic accounting and constitutional rights. Religious representatives could be consulted through advisory panels, but operational control should remain professional and independent. The objective should be institutional integrity, not theological supervision.

The commission’s first task should be transparency. Every significant religious institution should maintain a publicly accessible annual statement of income, expenditure, assets, liabilities, donations, major contracts and land transactions. This need not expose the identity of small donors or sensitive religious details. But the public should know how much money was received, where it was deposited, how it was spent, who approved the spending and whether independent auditors found irregularities. Digital donation systems should be traceable, tamper-resistant and reconciled daily with bank accounts. Cash donation boxes should be opened only under recorded procedures, with multiple authorised signatories and surveillance-backed counting systems.

There will, of course, be objections. Religious bodies will fear state intrusion. Minority groups may fear majoritarian pressure. Hindu organisations may argue that temples must first be freed from discriminatory state control. Political parties may resist losing influence over appointments, contracts and land. These concerns are not imaginary. Any national commission could itself become an instrument of control if appointments are partisan, powers are vague or safeguards are weak. That is why design matters.

Appointments to such a commission must be insulated from day-to-day politics. Selection should involve the judiciary, constitutional authorities, financial experts and representatives of recognised civil society institutions. Its orders should be appealable before courts. Its powers should be limited to secular administration, finance, property and governance. Its functioning should be transparent.

The Ayodhya controversy has arrived at a moment when religious institutions are becoming more financially complex. Pilgrimage tourism is expanding, digital giving is rising, religious infrastructure is being linked to urban development, and faith-based charities are moving large sums through formal and informal channels. The old assumption that temple or trust management is a matter for local elders and voluntary committees no longer matches reality. Many of these institutions now resemble large public endowments with national reach and emotional legitimacy. Their governance must evolve accordingly. (IPA Service)