The TLP’s Double Standard

The exposure of Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP) for maintaining nearly a hundred bank accounts and transacting around 150 million rupees in a single year isn’t just a story about financial hypocrisy, it’s a mirror reflecting a much deeper problem within the culture of religious politics in Pakistan. When an organization that condemns the banking system as un-Islamic ends up thriving within it, it forces us to confront the uncomfortable truth about those who preach morality but practice opportunism.

For years, TLP has built its reputation on fiery speeches about the evils of interest, capitalism, and the Western banking structure. Their leaders have made careers out of convincing the public that participating in the current economic system is sinful, that true believers must reject banks and the interest they generate. Yet the same leadership quietly managed multiple accounts, accumulated profits, and moved millions through the same system they claimed was forbidden. It’s a textbook case of “do as I say, not as I do.”

What makes this revelation particularly damning is the sheer scale of it. A hundred accounts isn’t an administrative necessity, it’s an entire financial network. This isn’t a cleric who opened one account out of convenience, it’s an organization that fully embraced the system it publicly rejected. The fact that this only came to light because of legal investigations suggests that TLP never intended to be transparent about its dealings. For a movement that preaches purity, secrecy is an odd companion.

TLP’s contradictions are not new, but they’re becoming harder to ignore. The party’s strength has always come from emotional manipulation. It appeals to ordinary people’s faith and frustration, presenting itself as the only true guardian of Islam in a corrupt and godless world. That message resonates with the poor, the marginalized, and the disillusioned, those who feel betrayed by traditional politics. But it’s precisely that trust that makes this hypocrisy so harmful.

People believed they were supporting a moral cause, not funding yet another power hungry institution.

It’s time we stop treating religious politics as untouchable. Whenever someone hides behind piety to demand authority, that should be a red flag, not a badge of honour. True faith doesn’t fear scrutiny. Real spirituality doesn’t require rallies or mobs, it requires integrity. And integrity means living by the same standards you impose on others.

There’s also something particularly cynical about TLP’s brand of moral outrage. The group has mobilized people on the streets, paralyzed cities, and forced governments into submission, all under the guise of protecting Islam. Yet when it comes to their own conduct, they’ve been anything but Islamic in principle. Islam forbids hypocrisy even more strongly than it forbids interest. The same Qur’an they cite in every speech warns against those who “say what they do not do.” You can’t demand the destruction of banks while quietly cashing their checks.

This isn’t just a moral issue, it’s a political one. TLP has built influence by blurring the line between faith and politics. They claim divine legitimacy for their actions, which makes disagreement with them seem like disbelief. That’s how they maintain power by equating loyalty to their movement with loyalty to God. It’s a dangerous manipulation, and the exposure of their financial dealings pulls back the curtain on how hollow that claim really is.

But hypocrisy alone doesn’t end movements. In Pakistan, we’ve seen many political and religious leaders survive scandal after scandal because people are conditioned to separate belief from behaviour. Supporters tell themselves, “Yes, the leaders are flawed, but the cause is still pure.” That mindset is what keeps hypocrisy alive. The cause becomes an excuse for corruption, and corruption becomes routine.

If this episode teaches anything, it’s that faith and politics make a volatile mix when one is used to justify the other. Religion should be a matter of conscience, not a campaign strategy. When leaders turn it into a political brand, they commercialize belief itself. TLP’s use of religion for profit isn’t unique, it’s just more blatant than most. And until the public stops rewarding such behaviour with loyalty, nothing will change.

This scandal could have been an opportunity for TLP to come clean, to acknowledge mistakes, and to align its actions with its teachings. Instead, their typical response has been denial and deflection, accusing critics of bias or conspiracy. That refusal to self-reflect is part of what keeps them stuck in the same cycle of contradiction. You can’t claim moral leadership while refusing moral accountability.

Pakistan doesn’t need more religious slogans. It needs honesty. It needs leaders who understand that Islam isn’t about shouting in the streets but about truthfulness in the quiet moments, when no one is watching. Until we start demanding that level of authenticity, groups like TLP will continue to thrive on hypocrisy, and the people who trust them will continue to suffer the consequences.

This is not just a story about TLP’s financial behaviour. It’s about how easily we, as a society, let words replace actions. We love to hear people talk about faith, justice, and morality, but we rarely check if their lives reflect it. The TLP scandal should remind us to look past the slogans, past the religious posturing, and focus on substance. If a group preaches against interest but profits from it, if it condemns the world while living comfortably within it, then it has no right to call itself righteous.

Faith, when used honestly, can be a force for good, a source of compassion, integrity, and accountability. But when it’s twisted into a political tool, it loses all meaning. Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan’s hypocrisy isn’t just an embarrassment for its followers, it’s a warning for everyone. Don’t mistake loud piety for real virtue. Sometimes the ones shouting the most about sin are the ones knee-deep in it.