Editor,
Death is the one certainty that binds all human beings. Regardless of our ethnicity, language, status, or beliefs, each of us will one day leave this world and embark on a journey into the unseen and the unknown. It is a journey we undertake alone, carrying with us only the consequences of our actions and the legacy of our deeds.
It is perhaps for this reason that human beings, across time and civilisations, have sought answers to life’s deepest questions. The search for truth, meaning, and the divine is not merely a religious exercise; it is a fundamental aspect of being human.
This is why any attempt to dictate, restrict, or prescribe how individuals should pursue that search deserves careful scrutiny.
The ongoing debate surrounding the APFRA raises larger questions than the legal or political arguments currently dominating public discourse. At its heart lies a question of personal freedom: Should individuals be free to choose their spiritual path, or should the state and self-appointed custodians of culture determine that choice for them?
A common argument advanced in support of such restrictions is that religion and cultural identity are inseparable. Yet history tells a different story.
A tribal born into a tribal family does not cease to be tribal because he or she embraces a different faith. Equally, a non-tribal does not become tribal merely by adopting indigenous rituals. Ethnic and cultural identities are rooted in history, ancestry, language, customs, and shared experiences. They are not erased or created solely by religious affiliation.
Moreover, culture itself is not static. It evolves continuously, adapting to changing realities and influences. The history of every community is, in many ways, the history of change.
Even within indigenous religious traditions, practices have evolved over time. Today one can observe customs and expressions of worship that would have been unfamiliar to earlier generations – whether it is the use of ‘holy water’, praise-and-worship formats resembling Christian gatherings, or forms of spiritual expression that have emerged through interaction with other traditions. These changes did not destroy culture; they became part of its ongoing evolution.
The more important question, therefore, is not which path a person follows, but what that path does to the person. Does it make them more compassionate, responsible, and ethical? Does it inspire them to serve their community? Does it contribute positively to society? If the answer is yes, then on what moral basis can anyone seek to curtail that individual’s freedom to pursue the divine as they understand it?
The APFRA debate also compels us to ask some uncomfortable questions of ourselves. Why do we assume that our fellow tribesmen and women are incapable of making informed choices about their own lives? Why do we view another person’s spiritual journey as a threat to our own? Why do we believe that cultural identity and religious diversity cannot coexist? And most importantly, why should anyone be denied the freedom to seek truth in the manner they find meaningful?
For centuries, tribal communities have lived alongside one another despite differences in beliefs, customs, and practices. Coexistence, not uniformity, has been the foundation of social harmony.
Passing laws and framing regulations may be relatively easy, especially when a government enjoys political power. The more difficult task is to consider the long-term consequences of policies that risk dividing neighbour from neighbour, brother from brother, and community from community.
History teaches us that societies are strengthened not by coercion but by freedom; not by enforced conformity but by mutual respect.
We may win political battles. We may even succeed in writing restrictive laws into the statute books. But before we celebrate such victories, we must ask a simple question: At what cost?
Felix Anthony
