Their eyes met across a breakfast table in Jakarta’s Sudirman district: the man wore a peci, the woman sported a Balinese kebaya. Love bloomed, plans were made — only to be told that in Indonesia their union cannot be legally recognised. Welcome to the heart-wrenching reality of interfaith marriage (perkawinan beda agama) in Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority nation, where romance collides with a rigid legal landscape. The recent appeal filed at the Constitutional Court of Indonesia by a young man arguing his right to marry across religions crystallises a long-standing tension between state, faith and individual rights.
At the legal core lies Law No. 1 of 1974 on Marriage (Undang-Undang Perkawinan 1974), article 2(1) of which states a marriage is only valid if conducted according to the religious laws (“hukum masing-masing agama”) of both partners. Artfully worded, yes—but in practice interpreted as forbidding a Muslim to marry someone from another religion and register the marriage. In 2023 the Supreme Court of Indonesia (Mahkamah Agung) issued a circular letter (SEMA No.2/2023) instructing lower courts not to accept any inter-faith marriage registration requests. The result: the legal recognition of couples from different religions has been effectively shut down.
To understand how we got here, you need context. Indonesia recognises six official religions, and marriage laws are tightly interwoven with religious doctrine and adat (custom). Historically, an inter-faith union often required one party to convert to the partner’s religion to fulfil the “same faith” criterion. In 2014 and again in 2023 the Constitutional Court rejected petitions to review the Marriage Law’s article2, maintaining that the state must defer to religion and belief (agama dan kepercayaan). Meanwhile, the 2006 Population Administration Law (UU No 23/2006) and its article 35 opened a procedural door: marriages determined by a court could be registered even when faiths differ. However, after the Supreme Court circular, this back-door is now effectively shut: courts are told not to grant registration for inter-faith unions.
On the ground, the effects are personal and painful. Couples like the one mentioned earlier face a stark choice: convert, marry abroad (and risk domestic non-recognition), or live without legal registration—leaving their children’s status, inheritance rights and marital benefits vulnerable. In Indonesia, 1,425 inter-faith couples were registered between 2005 and 2022, but the new limitation means fewer and fewer succeed. Cultural dynamics amplify the dilemma. The Indonesian Ulema Council (Majelis Ulama Indonesia) argues that allowing inter-faith marriages would undermine religious laws and social harmony. Meanwhile human-rights groups call the ban a discriminatory barrier to freedom of religion and right to family life.
The latest appeal underscores that the problem isn’t simply about two consenting adults—it’s about the clash between constitutional guarantees (like freedom of religion and family rights) and the institution of marriage defined by faith. The appellant argues the state’s blanket prohibition via Article 2 and SEMA 2/2023 causes constitutional harm. Legal scholars point out the incoherence: the Marriage Law doesn’t explicitly outlaw inter-faith marriage, yet the practice and interpretation make it unviable. The result is legal uncertainty (ketidakpastian hukum) and social disadvantage.
If reform is to happen, it will need a broad-based social and political consensus. Some judges have signalled discomfort with the current blanket prohibition. Activists say any revision must ensure that married couples across religions can register their union and access the rights and protections that married Indonesian citizens enjoy. Outside the courts, however, many remain stuck in limbo—with unanswered questions about legitimacy, civil status, and belonging.
In Indonesia’s echoing phrase of bhineka tunggal ika (“unity in diversity”), the ideal of pluralism meets the reality of rigid legal-religious categories. For couples who fall between those categories, love may be real—but legal recognition remains just out of reach. The heart-to-heart matters, but so does the paperwork, and in Indonesia, the paperwork says: same religion—or not married.
Oh, darling, don’t get me started on this tired old excuse that inter-faith marriage threatens social harmony. If I had a chili pepper for every time a politician or religious uncle used that line, I’d have enough sambal to feed all of Java. The idea that two consenting adults loving each other is somehow the spark that will set society on fire—please! If anything, Indonesia’s streets are far more endangered by potholes, corruption, and bad air quality than by a Javanese Muslim marrying a Balinese Hindu.
Let Auntie spell it out: mixed couples are the solution, not the problem. They build bridges where the state builds walls. They create families that understand more than one way of praying, thinking, living. They raise children who see diversity not as a threat but as a natural part of life—like sate and peanut sauce. Anyone who says these unions “harm social harmony” is basically admitting they don’t trust their own society. Imagine believing your nation is so fragile that a single wedding can break it. My dears, if your social harmony can be destroyed by a wedding, maybe it wasn’t harmony to begin with.
And let’s talk about who benefits from this narrative. Not the lovers. Not the families. Not the nation. No—this “social harmony” fairytale mostly serves those who want control: religious gatekeepers, bureaucratic busybodies, and moral-policing grandpas who think diversity is scary. They’ll tell you that mixed marriages cause confusion, tension, chaos. But you know what really causes chaos? Forcing people to convert just to register their marriage. Making couples fly to Singapore or Bangkok like fugitives just to say “I do.” Breaking families apart because a piece of paper says they shouldn’t exist.
Meanwhile, Auntie has seen with her own eyes the beauty of mixed couples—across religions, cultures, genders, and nations. Muslim–Christian, Hindu–Buddhist, Filipino–Indonesian, queer–straight, cis–trans, brown–yellow–white—it’s all deliciously human. These people aren’t confused. They aren’t dangerous. They are brave enough to choose love in a world that keeps telling them not to.
So let’s stop pretending the problem is love. The problem is fear dressed up as morality. The problem is institutions so insecure they can’t handle a little diversity in their family photo albums. Viva mixed couples! Viva interfaith love! Society doesn’t crumble when people marry across differences—it grows stronger, more compassionate, more interesting. And if your “social harmony” can’t handle that, Auntie suggests upgrading to a better version.