Is President Prabowo Losing Ground?

As Indonesia grapples with the competing demands of economic growth, social transformation, and political stability, the question of whether President Prabowo Subianto is losing ground has become increasingly relevant. His ambitious free lunch programme, designed to feed millions of schoolchildren, was initially hailed as a bold attempt to tackle child malnutrition, yet its execution has been marred by logistical failures, budgetary strains, and even cases of food poisoning, raising doubts about his ability to translate populist promises into effective governance. At the same time, his carefully cultivated image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate with younger Indonesians, many of whom are either unaware of or indifferent to his controversial past, suggesting that charisma and social media appeal may still shield him from political fallout. Nevertheless, the persistence of protests against cuts to local government budgets and the perception of oligarchic dominance in national politics highlight the fragility of his support base, particularly among those who feel excluded from the benefits of his policies. In this context, Prabowo’s popularity appears caught between the promise of reform and the reality of stagnation, leaving observers to wonder whether his current standing represents a temporary plateau or the beginning of a gradual decline.

Public frustration over the handling of the recent disasters in Sumatra has grown steadily, with many citizens and community leaders expressing dissatisfaction at what they perceive to be a slow and poorly coordinated response. The floods and landslides that struck Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra displaced more than a million people, destroyed bridges and homes, and left communities struggling to access food, clean water, and medical care. Although the government has mobilised resources, complaints have centred on the lack of adequate funding, the reliance on the military to cover costs from its own budget, and the limited logistical support provided by the national disaster agency. The perception that the state has been slow to act, combined with the scale of devastation, has fuelled a sense of neglect and deepened mistrust in national disaster management, leaving many to question whether the government is capable of protecting its citizens in times of crisis.

Recently, the BBC World Service raised the question of whether President Prabowo Subianto’s popularity in Indonesia is beginning to fade. In its discussion, correspondents highlighted the contrast between his ambitious promises, such as the nationwide free lunch programme, and the difficulties of turning those pledges into effective policies. They noted that while his carefully cultivated image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate with younger voters, mounting protests, budgetary strains, and cases of food poisoning linked to the programme have cast doubt on his ability to sustain the same level of support he enjoyed during the election. The conversation suggested that Prabowo’s popularity, once buoyed by charisma and social media appeal, may now be vulnerable to the realities of governance and the frustrations of a public that expects more than symbolic gestures.

The conversation revolves around Indonesia’s current president, Prabowo Subianto, and the ambitious free lunch programme he has launched to provide meals for eighty‑three million schoolchildren every day. The speakers reflect on how this policy, though well‑intentioned in tackling child malnutrition and stunting, has been plagued by problems of execution, high costs, and even cases of food poisoning. They note that Prabowo’s leadership style is highly personalised, top‑down, and impatient, in sharp contrast to his predecessor Joko Widodo’s more measured approach.

The discussion also traces Prabowo’s long and complex history: his elite family background, his rise as commander of Indonesia’s special forces and son‑in‑law of Suharto, his disgrace and exile after the fall of Suharto, and his eventual reinvention as a “gemoy” or cheek‑pinchingly cute grandfather figure popular among young Indonesians on TikTok. This reinvention has allowed him to win the presidency in 2024, despite his controversial past.

The speakers highlight Indonesia’s paradox: it is the fourth most populous nation and the largest economy in South‑East Asia, yet it often fails to project significant global influence and is frequently described as “punching below its weight.” They argue that domestic challenges, oligarchic structures, and political amnesia among the younger generation have hindered Indonesia’s ability to fully realise its potential.

Finally, they discuss Prabowo’s decision to name Suharto a national hero, which provoked little public outrage, suggesting either nostalgia or deliberate forgetting of the authoritarian past. The conversation closes on a sober note: Indonesia remains an oligarchy dominated by powerful business elites, and despite the optimism of reform after Suharto’s fall, little has changed in the underlying structures of power. The future of Prabowo’s presidency, and that of Indonesia itself, remains unsettled.

The speakers did not make a firm prediction that President Prabowo’s popularity will inevitably decline, but they did suggest that his support is already facing strains. They observed that although his public profile remains high, the ambitious free lunch programme has encountered serious difficulties, including budgetary pressures, food poisoning incidents, and widespread protests against cuts to local government funding. These problems illustrate the gap between populist promises made during the election campaign and the realities of policy implementation. At the same time, they acknowledged that Prabowo’s carefully crafted image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate strongly with younger Indonesians, many of whom are either unaware of or indifferent to his controversial past. In essence, the conversation implied that his popularity may be vulnerable if the failures of execution persist, but for now, it is sustained by his social media appeal and the political amnesia of a youthful electorate.

The potential decline in President Prabowo’s popularity can be understood through several interconnected dimensions. Ideologically, his reliance on populist promises such as the free lunch programme risks eroding trust if these initiatives fail to deliver tangible improvements. Philosophically, his leadership style, which is highly centralised and driven by personal ambition, may alienate those who value consensus, transparency, and institutional strength. Politically, the concentration of power within a loyalist circle and the perception of oligarchic dominance could provoke disillusionment among citizens who expect democratic accountability. Economically, the enormous costs of his flagship programme, coupled with unrealistic growth targets, may generate frustration if fiscal pressures lead to cuts in other essential services or if promised prosperity does not materialise. Socially, the persistence of inequality, corruption, and youth unemployment could undermine the appeal of his “gemoy” persona, especially if younger generations begin to connect their hardships with his governance. Culturally, the deliberate amnesia surrounding Indonesia’s authoritarian past may not endure indefinitely; if historical memory resurfaces, his association with Suharto and the military could tarnish his image. Taken together, these factors suggest that while his popularity is currently buoyed by charisma and social media, it remains vulnerable to ideological contradictions, philosophical tensions, political realities, economic disappointments, social grievances, and cultural reckonings.

The possibility that President Prabowo’s popularity might remain static rather than rise or fall can be explained through a combination of ideological, philosophical, political, economic, social, and cultural factors. Ideologically, his populist promises may neither fully succeed nor completely fail, leaving the public in a state of cautious acceptance rather than enthusiasm or rejection. Philosophically, his centralised and decisive style of leadership may continue to appeal to those who value strong authority, while simultaneously frustrating those who prefer consensus, thus producing a balance that prevents either significant gains or losses in popularity. Politically, the entrenched oligarchic structures of Indonesia mean that power is often recycled among elites, creating a sense of continuity that stabilises his position without generating fresh excitement. Economically, if growth remains moderate and the free lunch programme continues to function at a basic level without dramatic success or collapse, the public may simply adjust to the status quo, neither rewarding nor punishing him. Socially, younger generations may persist in their indifference to his past while tolerating present shortcomings, which sustains a plateau of support. Culturally, the deliberate amnesia surrounding Suharto and the authoritarian legacy may endure just enough to prevent backlash, but not enough to inspire renewed admiration. In this scenario, Prabowo’s popularity would remain steady, caught between competing forces that neutralise one another, resulting in stagnation rather than movement.

The rise of President Prabowo’s popularity could be facilitated by a convergence of ideological, philosophical, political, economic, social, and cultural circumstances. Ideologically, if his populist vision of providing free lunches succeeds in visibly reducing child malnutrition and stunting, it would reinforce the perception that he is a leader who delivers on promises, thereby strengthening public trust. Philosophically, his decisive and centralised style of leadership may resonate with a society that values strong authority and swift action, particularly in times of uncertainty, allowing his image as a firm and pragmatic leader to flourish. Politically, his ability to consolidate power within loyalist networks while projecting stability could reassure both elites and ordinary citizens, creating a sense of continuity that enhances his standing. Economically, if Indonesia experiences steady growth, improved infrastructure, and tangible benefits from his policies, the public may associate prosperity with his leadership, thereby rewarding him with greater support. Socially, his carefully cultivated “gemoy” persona may continue to charm younger generations, especially if combined with policies that address their immediate concerns such as jobs, education, and digital opportunities. Culturally, the persistence of selective amnesia regarding Indonesia’s authoritarian past may allow his reinvention to remain convincing, while his invocation of national pride and historical continuity could further endear him to the public. In such a scenario, Prabowo’s popularity would rise not only because of charisma and social media appeal, but also because his governance would appear to deliver concrete improvements aligned with the aspirations of a diverse and youthful nation.

History shows that succeeding a failed leader is often more curse than blessing. For example, Gerald Ford in the United States inherited the presidency after Richard Nixon’s resignation in 1974. Although Ford himself was not implicated in the Watergate scandal, his decision to pardon Nixon meant that he remained trapped in the shadow of his predecessor’s disgrace, which contributed heavily to his electoral defeat in 1976. Similarly, in post-Soviet Russia, Boris Yeltsin’s chaotic economic reforms and political instability left Vladimir Putin with both an opportunity and a burden: while Putin capitalised on Yeltsin’s failures to consolidate power, Yeltsin’s legacy of corruption and weakened institutions shaped the authoritarian trajectory that followed. In Britain, James Callaghan’s premiership was overshadowed by the economic turmoil and union unrest that had already plagued Harold Wilson’s government; the “Winter of Discontent” sealed Labour’s defeat and ushered in Margaret Thatcher. These examples reveal a recurring pattern: when a predecessor leaves behind scandal, instability, or broken institutions, the successor often struggles to escape that shadow, and their downfall becomes tied to the failures of the past.

Throughout history, leaders have often relied on the accuracy of reports delivered by their subordinates, and when those reports proved false, the consequences could be catastrophic. One of the most famous examples is Napoleon Bonaparte, whose disastrous invasion of Russia in 1812 was worsened by misleading intelligence and overly optimistic reports from his generals, which convinced him that supplies and reinforcements were more secure than they truly were. Similarly, during the Vietnam War, American political and military leaders were repeatedly misled by overly positive reports from commanders in the field, creating the illusion of progress while the reality was far more dire; this erosion of credibility contributed to the eventual collapse of public trust and the political downfall of those in charge. In the corporate world, leaders such as Bernie Ebbers of WorldCom fell because subordinates concealed the true state of finances with falsified reports, leading to one of the largest bankruptcies in history. These cases illustrate a recurring pattern: when leaders are deprived of truthful information, whether through deception or incompetence, their ability to govern collapses, and their downfall becomes almost inevitable.

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When Does the Tolerance Cross the Line?

From the perspective of Islamic ethics, the policy discourse surrounding a state-sponsored or ministry-led “joint Christmas celebration in Indonesia” raises a fundamental question about the limits of tolerance (tasāmuh) and the distinction between social coexistence and theological participation. Islamic ethical reasoning, grounded in the Qur’an and classical Sunni scholarship, clearly affirms peaceful coexistence, justice, and respect for human dignity across religious boundaries. At the same time, it maintains firm boundaries in matters of creed (‘aqīdah) and ritual worship (‘ibādah). The ethical concern does not lie in wishing others well or ensuring their freedom to worship, but in the symbolic implications of state actions that may blur doctrinal distinctions.

Within Islamic ethics, intention and symbolism matter deeply. Acts that appear morally commendable in social terms may still be ethically problematic if they imply endorsement of beliefs that contradict Islamic monotheism. Classical Sunni scholars consistently distinguished between mu‘āmalāt (social dealings), where cooperation and kindness are encouraged, and ‘ibādāt (acts of worship), where participation is strictly regulated by faith commitments. When a Muslim-majority state, through its religious ministry, uses language suggesting collective religious celebration, ethical unease arises not because of hostility to others, but because of the fear that theological clarity is being sacrificed for symbolic harmony.

From the standpoint of Indonesia’s constitutional norms, the issue must be analysed through the principles of Pancasila and the 1945 Constitution. The state is neither secular in the Western sense nor theocratic, but constitutionally committed to belief in One Supreme God and to the protection of all recognised religions. The constitution guarantees freedom of religion and obliges the state to facilitate religious life without coercion or discrimination. In this framework, the state’s role is to ensure that each religious community can practise its faith safely and with dignity, not to merge religious expressions into a single symbolic narrative.

A policy framed as a “joint celebration” risks constitutional ambiguity. While the intention may be inclusivity, the language can unintentionally suggest state involvement in theological matters beyond its mandate. The constitution does not authorise the state to reinterpret religious rituals or to redefine their boundaries in the name of unity. Therefore, constitutional prudence requires clear differentiation between facilitating religious observance and symbolically participating in it. Clarification from state officials becomes crucial to prevent misunderstandings that could undermine public trust.

Regarding the issues raised at the beginning, there was a response from the public who hoped that the Ministry of Religion would fulfil its commitment regarding the nature of the celebration. The impact of this policy discourse on public debate has been significant. Rather than strengthening harmony, the initial framing triggered polarised reactions, revealing deep sensitivities in Indonesian society regarding religion, state authority, and identity. For some, the policy appeared as moral progress and a sign of national maturity. For others, it raised concerns about religious dilution, performative tolerance, and the overreach of bureaucratic power into matters of faith. This divergence reflects a broader global tension between institutionalised tolerance and lived religious conviction.

In the public sphere, the controversy illustrates how language and symbolism can shape political meaning beyond formal policy intent. When tolerance is perceived as being administratively orchestrated rather than organically practised, it risks being seen as coercive or insincere. This perception can erode the very social cohesion it seeks to promote. In a plural society like Indonesia, where religion is deeply embedded in public life, policy communication must be ethically sensitive, constitutionally precise, and socially aware.

An ethically sound and constitutionally consistent approach would reaffirm three principles simultaneously: the Islamic ethical commitment to clear faith boundaries alongside social justice, the constitutional duty of the state to protect religious freedom without theological interference, and the need for public discourse that respects genuine differences rather than masking them with ambiguous symbolism. Tolerance, in this sense, is not the absence of boundaries, but the disciplined respect for them.

In general usage, tolerance refers to the attitude and practice of allowing the existence of differences in beliefs, opinions, behaviours, or identities without hostility, coercion, or discrimination. It involves recognising that individuals or groups may hold views and ways of life different from one’s own, while choosing to coexist peacefully despite disagreement. Tolerance does not necessarily require agreement or approval, but it does require restraint, respect, and the refusal to impose one’s preferences by force.

In social and political contexts, tolerance is often understood as a foundational principle for pluralistic societies. It enables diverse communities to live together by ensuring that differences are managed through dialogue and mutual respect rather than conflict. This form of tolerance emphasises legal equality, protection of rights, and freedom of conscience, allowing people to express and practise their beliefs within a shared public order.

From a moral perspective, tolerance is commonly associated with virtues such as patience, open-mindedness, and empathy. It reflects an awareness of human diversity and the limits of one’s own perspective. However, tolerance does not imply moral relativism or the absence of boundaries. Most definitions acknowledge that tolerance operates within certain limits, particularly when actions cause harm, violate the rights of others, or undermine social order.

Thus, in its general sense, tolerance is a balanced stance between acceptance and disagreement. It seeks peaceful coexistence without demanding uniformity, and it promotes social harmony without erasing meaningful differences. It is less about surrendering convictions and more about managing diversity in a way that preserves dignity, stability, and mutual respect.

In its general sense, tolerance is commonly understood as the willingness to allow differences in belief, opinion, or way of life to exist without hostility or coercion. It prioritises peaceful coexistence despite disagreement and assumes that social harmony can be maintained when individuals restrain themselves from imposing their views on others. This definition is largely practical and descriptive, focusing on behaviour and social interaction rather than on deeper philosophical or theological foundations.

In Western philosophy, tolerance developed as a response to religious conflict and political violence, particularly in early modern Europe. Thinkers such as John Locke framed tolerance as a moral and political necessity to prevent civil unrest and protect individual conscience. In this tradition, tolerance is grounded in epistemic humility, namely the recognition that human beings are fallible and cannot claim absolute certainty in matters of belief. Over time, this philosophical framework evolved to associate tolerance with liberal values such as autonomy, individual rights, and freedom of expression. Here, tolerance is often justified not by truth claims, but by the need to safeguard personal liberty and social stability in a pluralistic society.

In the context of human rights law, tolerance is institutionalised rather than merely moral. It is embedded in legal principles such as freedom of religion, equality before the law, and non-discrimination. Human rights frameworks do not primarily ask whether beliefs are true or false, but whether individuals are protected from harm, exclusion, or coercion. Tolerance in this sense functions as a legal guarantee that diversity may exist within a shared civic order, provided that fundamental rights are not violated. Its authority derives from international consensus and legal norms, rather than from philosophical reasoning or religious revelation.

In moral philosophy, the concept of tolerance has been shaped significantly by liberal thinkers such as John Stuart Mill, John Rawls, and Bernard Williams, each of whom grounds tolerance in a distinct moral concern. While they share a commitment to peaceful coexistence in morally diverse societies, their justifications for tolerance differ in emphasis, scope, and philosophical depth.

John Stuart Mill conceives tolerance primarily through the lens of individual liberty and intellectual progress. In On Liberty, Mill argues that suppressing opinions, even those widely regarded as false or harmful, impoverishes society as a whole. For Mill, tolerance is justified because human beings are fallible and because exposure to dissent is necessary for truth to be tested, refined, and kept alive. Moral tolerance, therefore, serves an epistemic function: it protects the conditions under which reason and individuality can flourish. However, Mill’s tolerance is limited by the harm principle, according to which interference is justified only to prevent harm to others, not merely to enforce moral conformity.

John Rawls approaches tolerance from a different angle, grounding it in fairness rather than truth-seeking. In a society characterised by what he calls reasonable pluralism, Rawls argues that citizens inevitably hold incompatible yet reasonable moral and philosophical doctrines. Tolerance, in this framework, arises from the recognition that no single comprehensive doctrine can justly dominate the public sphere. Rawls’s idea of political liberalism thus reframes tolerance as a requirement of justice: citizens ought to tolerate differences because social cooperation among free and equal persons depends on mutually acceptable principles. Tolerance here is institutional and procedural, embedded in the structure of public reason rather than in personal moral virtue.

Bernard Williams offers a more sceptical and historically sensitive account of tolerance. He rejects the notion that tolerance can be fully justified by abstract principles alone. Instead, Williams emphasises the reality of moral conflict and the persistence of deep disagreement that cannot always be resolved through reason. For him, tolerance is a practical response to the fact that moral life is marked by tragedy, contingency, and the limits of consensus. Toleration, in Williams’s view, is less about endorsing pluralism as an ideal and more about managing unavoidable disagreement without resorting to cruelty or domination.

When contrasted with these liberal moral frameworks, the Islamic concept of tolerance presents a fundamentally different moral orientation. In Islam, tolerance is not grounded in epistemic uncertainty, procedural fairness, or moral scepticism, but in obedience to divine revelation and accountability before God. Islam affirms peaceful coexistence and prohibits coercion in matters of faith, yet it does not suspend truth claims or treat all moral doctrines as equally valid. Tolerance in Islam operates through a clear distinction between social conduct and theological commitment: Muslims are commanded to act justly and kindly towards others while maintaining firm adherence to their own creed.

Unlike Mill or Rawls, Islamic tolerance does not justify itself by appealing to individual autonomy or political neutrality. Its limits are defined not only by harm or fairness, but also by loyalty to divine commands and the preservation of moral and spiritual integrity. As a result, certain actions may be socially permissible or even praised in liberal societies, yet remain morally impermissible within Islamic ethics because they contradict revealed principles.

In contrast to Western liberalism, many Eastern ethical traditions frame tolerance less as an individual right and more as a relational virtue. In Confucian ethics, for example, tolerance is embedded in the pursuit of social harmony, role-based responsibility, and moral self-cultivation. Differences are managed not through rights-based restraint, but through propriety, moderation, and mutual adjustment within hierarchical relationships. Similarly, in Buddhist ethics, tolerance arises from compassion, non-attachment, and the recognition of suffering as a universal human condition. Here, tolerance is less about permitting difference and more about reducing conflict through inner transformation.

The contrast becomes clear when considering moral motivation. Western liberal tolerance prioritises protecting freedom amid disagreement, Islamic tolerance prioritises obedience and moral boundaries amid coexistence, and Eastern ethical tolerance prioritises harmony and self-discipline amid relational complexity. Each framework responds to pluralism, but they do so with different moral starting points, different limits, and different conceptions of what ultimately matters.

So, tolerance is not a single moral ideal with a universal foundation, but a family of related practices shaped by distinct moral worldviews. Mill, Rawls, and Williams articulate tolerance as a response to human fallibility, fairness, and moral conflict within liberal societies. Islam frames tolerance within a theocentric moral order that balances mercy with truth. Eastern ethical traditions approach tolerance as a virtue of harmony and moral cultivation. Understanding these differences clarifies why debates over tolerance often involve not merely policy disagreements, but deeper conflicts about the sources and purposes of moral authority.

The Islamic concept of tolerance, often referred to as tasāmuh, differs significantly in its foundation and scope.  In Islamic scholarly discourse, religious tolerance is commonly referred to by the term tasāmuḥ, although this term must be understood with careful conceptual precision. Linguistically, tasāmuḥ derives from the Arabic root s-m-ḥ, which conveys meanings of leniency, generosity, forbearance, and moral spaciousness. In the context of Islam, tasāmuḥ denotes an ethical attitude of fairness and gracious conduct towards others, including those who adhere to different religious beliefs, without compromising one’s own doctrinal convictions.

Although the word tasāmuḥ does not appear explicitly in the Qur’an, its underlying principles are firmly embedded within Qur’anic teachings. The Qur’an clearly affirms freedom of belief by stating, “There is no compulsion in religion” (Al-Baqarah 2:256), thereby establishing that faith cannot be imposed by force. Furthermore, the Qur’an commands justice and benevolence towards non-Muslims who live peacefully, as expressed in the verse, “Allah does not forbid you from being just and kind towards those who do not fight you because of religion” (Al-Mumtaḥanah 60:8). These verses form the normative foundation of tasāmuḥ as a moral and social principle.

The Prophetic tradition further reinforces this concept through its emphasis on gentleness and ease in human interactions. The Prophet ﷺ prayed for divine mercy upon those who are lenient in their dealings, using the term samḥ, which shares the same linguistic root as tasāmuḥ. This indicates that tolerance and forbearance are not marginal virtues in Islam, but essential aspects of Islamic moral character.

Sunni scholars have consistently clarified that tasāmuḥ does not imply theological relativism or the equalisation of all religious truths. Islam maintains a firm commitment to its own doctrinal claims, while simultaneously obligating justice, dignity, and ethical restraint in relations with followers of other faiths. Ibn Taymiyyah affirmed that justice is obligatory towards all people regardless of their religion, while contemporary scholars such as Yusuf al-Qaradawi have stressed that tasāmuḥ operates in the realm of social relations and human coexistence, not in the dilution of core beliefs.

Religious tolerance in Islam may appropriately be described as tasāmuḥ, provided it is understood as moral openness and justice in social life, coupled with steadfastness in belief. Islam thus teaches tolerance in coexistence and consistency in faith, presenting a balanced framework in which religious conviction and peaceful pluralism are held together through ethical discipline.

Tasāmuh is often used both for general tolerance and for what is commonly called religious tolerance because it lies in the structure of Islamic moral language itself. In classical Islamic thought, tasāmuh is not a technical term confined to one specific domain, such as religion alone. Rather, it is a broad moral disposition that governs how Muslims interact with others in social life, including matters of belief, difference, and disagreement.

Unlike modern Western discourse, which tends to create separate conceptual categories such as social tolerance, political tolerance, and religious tolerance, Islamic ethical vocabulary is less compartmentalised. Moral terms in Islam usually refer to general virtues that are then applied contextually. Tasāmuh literally conveys meanings such as leniency, forbearance, and ease in dealing with others. These qualities apply to interpersonal relations, economic dealings, social conflict, and also interactions with people of other faiths.

What differentiates religious tolerance in Islam from general tolerance is therefore not the terminology, but the boundaries within which tasāmuh operates. When applied to everyday social matters, tasāmuh encourages flexibility, patience, and generosity. When applied to religious difference, tasāmuh still governs conduct, but it does not extend to theological endorsement, ritual participation, or the blurring of doctrinal boundaries. The same virtue functions under different normative constraints.

This contrasts with modern secular frameworks, where religious tolerance is often treated as a distinct concept rooted in freedom of belief and the suspension of truth claims in the public sphere. In Islam, truth claims are not suspended. The Qur’an affirms coexistence and prohibits coercion in matters of faith, yet simultaneously maintains clear distinctions between belief and disbelief. As a result, tasāmuh regulates behaviour and social relations, not belief itself.

Classical Sunni scholars implicitly recognised this distinction. They used tasāmuh or related moral concepts to describe fairness, kindness, and restraint towards non-Muslims, while also emphasising barā’ah (disassociation in belief) and ḥifẓ al-dīn (the protection of faith). The same moral virtue could not be allowed to undermine foundational theological commitments.

Therefore, the use of the same term for general tolerance and religious tolerance does not indicate conceptual confusion within Islam, but rather reflects a unified moral framework in which virtues are stable while their applications are context-sensitive. The modern tendency to expect separate terms for each domain is itself a product of secular moral and legal categorisation, not a requirement of Islamic ethical reasoning.

Tasāmuh is not rooted in moral relativism, epistemic uncertainty, or legal neutrality, but in divine revelation and moral responsibility before God. Islam recognises diversity as a reality of human existence and affirms peaceful coexistence with others, yet it does so within a framework that maintains clear theological boundaries. The Qur’an explicitly affirms that there is no compulsion in religion, while simultaneously asserting the distinctiveness and truth-claims of Islamic belief.

Unlike general or liberal conceptions of tolerance, tasāmuh does not treat all beliefs as equally valid, nor does it suspend judgment in the name of harmony. Instead, it separates social conduct from theological conviction. Muslims are commanded to act justly, kindly, and peacefully towards those of other faiths, but they are also instructed to preserve their own creed and ritual integrity. Tolerance in Islam therefore, means allowing differences without endorsing it, respecting persons without affirming all beliefs, and coexisting without dissolving religious identity.

A key contrast lies in the limits of tolerance. In Western liberal and human rights frameworks, the limits are primarily defined by harm, rights violations, or threats to public order. In Islam, the limits of tolerance are additionally defined by loyalty to divine commands and the protection of faith itself. Actions that symbolically affirm beliefs contrary to Islamic theology may be considered unacceptable, even if they are socially applauded or legally permissible.

While general, philosophical, and legal definitions of tolerance emphasise coexistence, restraint, and pluralism, the Islamic concept of tasāmuh integrates these values within a theocentric moral order. Tolerance in Islam is not an open-ended endorsement of diversity, but a disciplined ethical stance that balances mercy with truth, coexistence with conviction, and social peace with fidelity to God.

In Western philosophical thought, tolerance is not understood in a single, uniform way, and it is therefore not always treated as a policy. Rather, tolerance occupies multiple conceptual levels, depending on whether it is discussed within moral philosophy, political philosophy, or legal theory.

From the perspective of moral philosophy, tolerance is primarily regarded as a virtue or moral attitude rather than a policy. It refers to a personal disposition of restraint, patience, and respect towards beliefs or practices one disapproves of. Thinkers such as John Stuart Mill discuss tolerance in terms of individual liberty and moral self-restraint, not as a directive imposed by the state, but as a condition for moral and intellectual flourishing. At this level, tolerance cannot be reduced to policy because it concerns character and ethical judgement.

In political philosophy, however, tolerance often becomes institutionalised and takes the form of public policy. Early modern thinkers like John Locke argued that the state should adopt toleration as a political principle in order to prevent religious conflict and ensure civil peace. In this sense, tolerance is indeed a policy choice, meaning that the government deliberately refrains from coercing certain beliefs or practices, even if they are regarded as erroneous by those in power. Here, tolerance is a strategy of governance rather than a moral endorsement.

In contemporary liberal theory, particularly in the work of John Rawls, tolerance is embedded in the structure of political institutions and constitutional arrangements. It functions as a procedural principle that governs how diverse moral doctrines coexist within a shared political framework. Although it operates through laws and policies, Rawlsian tolerance is justified not as moral approval, but as a requirement of fairness among free and equal citizens. Thus, tolerance becomes policy-like in implementation, but moral in justification.

Legal theory and human rights law further reinforce this institutional dimension. Tolerance appears in the form of protections for freedom of belief, expression, and association. In this domain, tolerance is no longer merely an attitude but a legally enforceable framework. However, even here, it is better understood as a principle underlying policy, rather than a policy itself, because it shapes how laws are designed rather than prescribing specific behaviours.

Therefore, in Western philosophical thought, tolerance can be a policy at the political and legal levels, but it is not reducible to policy alone. It originates as a moral virtue, becomes a political strategy, and is eventually institutionalised as a legal principle. Confusing these levels often leads to misunderstandings, particularly when tolerance as a personal moral ideal is conflated with tolerance as a state-imposed obligation.

In Western philosophical discourse, tolerance is not merely understood as a personal virtue or an interpersonal attitude, but very often as a matter of public policy and institutional design. This understanding becomes particularly clear in modern liberal political philosophy, where tolerance is closely connected to the role of the state in managing pluralism, diversity, and conflicting moral worldviews within a single political community.

John Stuart Mill, for instance, did not conceptualise tolerance simply as passive forbearance. In On Liberty, he argued that the state should actively protect freedom of thought, expression, and lifestyle choices, not because all beliefs are equally true, but because coercion stifles human development and social progress. In this sense, tolerance becomes a governing principle: the state restrains itself from imposing moral conformity, except where harm to others can be clearly demonstrated. Here, tolerance is embedded in policy through legal limits on state power.

John Rawls further institutionalised tolerance by framing it as a structural requirement of a just society. In Political Liberalism, Rawls argued that a pluralistic society inevitably contains incompatible yet reasonable comprehensive doctrines. The state, therefore, must enforce a framework of tolerance by remaining neutral among these doctrines and by guaranteeing equal basic liberties. Tolerance, in Rawls’s view, is not optional generosity but a constitutional necessity, upheld through laws, courts, and public reason.

However, this policy-based understanding of tolerance has faced serious criticism in contemporary debates about what is often called “state-enforced tolerance.” Critics argue that when tolerance is transformed into an obligation mandated by law or bureaucracy, it can paradoxically become a new form of coercion. Bernard Williams, for example, warned that moral and political systems that demand universal endorsement of certain values risk suppressing genuine ethical disagreement. When the state dictates not only permissible actions but also acceptable moral attitudes, tolerance ceases to be tolerance and becomes moral conformity enforced by power.

Contemporary critics extend this concern by pointing out that state-enforced tolerance often operates selectively. It may protect certain identities, expressions, or beliefs while marginalising others, particularly traditional or religious moral frameworks. In such cases, tolerance functions less as mutual restraint and more as an ideological project, where dissent is reframed as intolerance and therefore delegitimised. This dynamic raises the question of whether enforced tolerance undermines the very pluralism it claims to protect.

When this Western framework is contrasted with the Islamic concept of tolerance, often expressed through the term tasāmuh, a fundamental difference becomes evident. In Islam, tolerance is not primarily a state policy nor a moral relativism, but an ethical posture grounded in divine command. The Qur’an affirms the reality of religious diversity while clearly maintaining doctrinal boundaries, as seen in verses such as “For you is your religion, and for me is my religion” (Qur’an 109:6). Tolerance, therefore, means peaceful coexistence, justice, and non-coercion in faith, but not the erasure of theological distinctions.

Classical Sunni scholars consistently emphasised that tolerance does not require affirming the truth of all beliefs, nor participating in religious practices that contradict Islamic creed. Contemporary Sunni fatwas continue this tradition by distinguishing between respecting human dignity and endorsing religious pluralism at the level of belief. From this perspective, tolerance is ethical restraint guided by revelation, not a political tool to homogenise moral outlooks.

In contrast to state-enforced tolerance, Islamic ethics places moral responsibility primarily on individuals and communities, not on the state compelling internal convictions. While the Islamic state historically protected religious minorities, it did so through legal justice and social order, not by requiring Muslims to symbolically affirm other faiths. Tolerance, in this sense, is principled coexistence rather than policy-driven moral alignment.

Thus, the contemporary debate on state-enforced tolerance reveals a central philosophical tension: whether tolerance is best preserved through institutional coercion or through moral self-restraint. Western liberalism tends to answer this through law and policy, while Islam approaches tolerance as a moral obligation bounded by theological truth. The contrast does not lie in the presence or absence of tolerance, but in its source, limits, and ultimate purpose.

Religious tolerance refers to an attitude of respect, recognition, and fairness towards people of different religious beliefs, allowing them to practise their faith freely without coercion or discrimination. It does not require an individual to accept, adopt, or agree with the theological claims of other religions. Rather, religious tolerance is grounded in the principle that truth is a matter of personal conviction, while peaceful coexistence is a matter of shared social responsibility.

In this sense, religious tolerance acknowledges the fundamental right of every individual to choose, profess, and practise their religion according to conscience, as long as this practice does not infringe upon the rights of others or disturb public order. It involves refraining from mocking, obstructing, or demeaning the religious rituals, symbols, and places of worship of others, even when one holds firm and exclusive beliefs about one’s own faith.

Furthermore, religious tolerance requires a clear distinction between personal belief and social relations. A person may sincerely believe that their religion represents the ultimate truth, yet still engage with followers of other religions in social, civic, and humanitarian contexts with fairness, dignity, and mutual respect. Tolerance, therefore, does not negate religious commitment; instead, it disciplines it through ethical conduct.

Religious tolerance rejects violence, coercion, and intimidation carried out in the name of religion. It affirms the possibility and necessity of living together peacefully amid enduring differences of belief, recognising diversity as a social reality that must be governed by moral restraint, law, and mutual respect.

From the perspective of Islam, religion is understood as a conscious and voluntary submission to Allah, grounded in faith, knowledge, and moral responsibility. The Qur’an presents religion not merely as a set of rituals, but as a comprehensive way of life that governs belief, worship, ethics, and social conduct. This submission is rooted in the recognition of Allah’s oneness, sovereignty, and ultimate authority over human life, as expressed in the declaration that there is no compulsion in religion, since guidance and error have been made clear.

The Qur’an emphasises that faith must arise from inner conviction rather than external pressure. Belief imposed by force is considered devoid of spiritual value, because genuine faith requires sincerity of the heart. For this reason, the Qur’an repeatedly addresses human reason, conscience, and reflection, inviting individuals to observe creation, history, and their own inner selves as signs pointing towards divine truth. Religion, therefore, is inseparable from moral awareness and intellectual engagement.

Sunni scholars have consistently understood Islam as encompassing both outward practice and inward belief. Acts of worship such as prayer, fasting, and charity are regarded as expressions of faith, but they are not meaningful unless accompanied by sincerity, ethical conduct, and humility. Classical scholars such as Al-Ghazālī stressed that religious practice without moral refinement risks becoming empty formalism. In contrast, scholars like Ibn Taymiyyah emphasised that correct belief must be reflected in just behaviour and social responsibility.

Furthermore, Islam recognises religious diversity as part of divine wisdom in human history. The Qur’an acknowledges the existence of diverse religious communities and affirms that human beings will continue to differ in their beliefs. While Islam maintains the theological claim of truth regarding its own message, it simultaneously commands justice, kindness, and peaceful coexistence with those of other faiths. This balance between doctrinal conviction and ethical restraint forms a central feature of the Sunni understanding of religion.

From the Islamic perspective, being religious means living in conscious accountability before Allah, where belief shapes character and character governs action. Religion is not reduced to identity or symbolism, but is measured by sincerity, justice, and compassion in both private and public life. In this sense, Islam presents religion as a moral covenant that binds the believer to God while regulating their responsibilities towards fellow human beings.

From the Islamic perspective, religion is understood as a conscious and willing submission to Allah, founded upon faith, knowledge, and moral accountability. The Qur’an defines religion as a comprehensive way of life rather than a mere collection of rituals, as stated in the verse, “Indeed, the religion in the sight of Allah is Islam” (Āl ʿImrān 3:19). This submission is not imposed by force, for the Qur’an explicitly declares, “There is no compulsion in religion; the right path has become distinct from error” (Al-Baqarah 2:256). Faith, therefore, is meaningful only when it arises from sincere conviction rather than coercion.

The Qur’an repeatedly links belief with the use of reason and moral reflection. It calls human beings to contemplate creation and history, as in the verse, “We shall show them Our signs on the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth” (Fuṣṣilat 41:53). In this sense, religion in Islam addresses both the intellect and the conscience, presenting faith as an informed and reflective commitment. The Qur’an further emphasises moral responsibility by stating, “Whoever does an atom’s weight of good shall see it, and whoever does an atom’s weight of evil shall see it” (Az-Zalzalah 99:7–8), thereby grounding religious life in ethical accountability.

Classical Sunni scholars consistently affirmed that Islam integrates inward belief with outward action. Imām Al-Ghazālī argued that acts of worship devoid of sincerity and ethical refinement are spiritually hollow, writing in Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm ad-Dīn that “acts without inner awareness are like a body without a soul.” This view reflects the Qur’anic principle that Allah looks not merely at external forms but at the hearts and deeds of human beings. Similarly, Ibn Taymiyyah defined religion as encompassing belief, speech, and action, stating in Majmūʿ al-Fatāwā that true faith necessarily manifests itself in justice, honesty, and responsibility towards others.

Islam also recognises religious diversity as part of divine wisdom. The Qur’an states, “Had your Lord willed, He could have made mankind one community, but they will continue to differ” (Hūd 11:118). While affirming its own theological truth, Islam commands justice and kindness towards those of other faiths, as articulated in the verse, “Allah does not forbid you from being just and kind towards those who do not fight you because of religion” (Al-Mumtaḥanah 60:8). This establishes a framework in which firm belief coexists with ethical restraint and peaceful coexistence.

Contemporary Sunni scholars have reiterated this balanced understanding of religion. Shaykh Yusuf al-Qaradawi emphasised that Islam is a religion of conscience and moral responsibility, not mere outward conformity, arguing that coercion in matters of faith contradicts the Qur’anic spirit. Similarly, Shaykh Abdullah bin Bayyah has stressed that the higher objectives of Islamic law, particularly justice, mercy, and human dignity, must guide religious practice in plural societies. These contemporary interpretations remain firmly rooted in classical Sunni theology while addressing modern social realities.

From the Islamic perspective, being religious means living in constant awareness of accountability before Allah, where belief shapes character and character governs action. The Qur’an encapsulates this principle by declaring, “Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous among you” (Al-Ḥujurāt 49:13). Religion, therefore, is not reduced to identity or symbolism, but is measured by sincerity, justice, and compassion in both private and public life, binding the believer to God while regulating their moral responsibilities towards fellow human beings.

Tolerance is generally considered to have exceeded its legitimate boundaries when it begins to erode fundamental principles of belief, justice, or moral responsibility. In religious contexts, tolerance crosses the line when it requires individuals to suppress or deny their own core convictions in order to accommodate others, thereby transforming respect for difference into enforced conformity. Genuine tolerance allows disagreement to persist; it does not demand the abandonment of truth claims or ethical commitments.

Another clear indicator that tolerance has gone beyond its proper limits is when it legitimises or excuses actions that violate universal moral standards or legal norms. When harmful practices are defended under the banner of tolerance, such as coercion, exploitation, or violence, tolerance ceases to function as a moral virtue and instead becomes a mechanism for normalising injustice. In such cases, the refusal to judge wrongdoing is no longer an expression of openness, but a failure of ethical discernment.

Tolerance is also considered excessive when it silences critical reasoning and moral critique. A society that labels all forms of disagreement as intolerance effectively undermines freedom of thought and responsible moral debate. In this situation, tolerance mutates into a tool of ideological pressure, where questioning dominant narratives or practices is treated as moral failure rather than civic responsibility.

Furthermore, tolerance exceeds its limits when it erases meaningful distinctions between beliefs, values, and practices. When all positions are treated as equally valid regardless of their coherence, evidence, or moral consequences, tolerance degenerates into relativism. This condition weakens the capacity of individuals and communities to uphold standards of truth, justice, and accountability, which are essential for social trust and moral order.

Tolerance loses its moral legitimacy when it no longer protects human dignity and social harmony, but instead undermines them. Proper tolerance is bounded by commitment to truth, justice, and the common good, and once these boundaries are crossed, tolerance ceases to be a virtue and becomes a liability to both moral integrity and social cohesion.

From the Islamic perspective, religious tolerance is considered to have exceeded its legitimate boundaries when it compromises or negates core principles of ʿaqīdah (creed). Islam commands justice, kindness, and peaceful coexistence with followers of other religions, yet it draws a clear line when tolerance requires the dilution, suspension, or concealment of fundamental beliefs such as the oneness of Allah or the finality of prophethood. When tolerance demands theological concessions that blur the distinction between truth and falsehood, it ceases to be tasāmuḥ and becomes doctrinal confusion.

Tolerance in Islam is also regarded as excessive when it leads to participation in or endorsement of religious practices that contradict Islamic worship. While Islam permits social interaction, cooperation, and goodwill across religious boundaries, it does not permit acts that imply validation of non-Islamic rites or symbols as religiously equivalent. When tolerance shifts from respecting the freedom of others to affirm their beliefs as religiously true, it crosses the boundary established by Islamic law and theology.

Another indicator that tolerance has surpassed its proper limits is when it results in injustice or moral compromise. The Qur’an repeatedly emphasises that justice is an obligation that cannot be suspended for the sake of social harmony. If tolerance is invoked to excuse oppression, moral corruption, or violations of divine commandments, it becomes a form of negligence rather than virtue. Islam does not recognise tolerance as a justification for remaining silent in the face of clear wrongdoing.

From an Islamic viewpoint, tolerance also exceeds its bounds when it suppresses moral counsel and principled disagreement. The Qur’an commands believers to enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong with wisdom and good conduct. When tolerance is interpreted in such a way that it forbids ethical critique or silences sincere advice, it undermines a central moral responsibility of the Muslim community. Respectful disagreement is not contrary to tolerance; rather, it is an essential component of moral integrity.

Ultimately, religious tolerance in Islam is deemed to have crossed its limits when it undermines loyalty to Allah and the ethical framework revealed in the Qur’an. Proper tasāmuḥ operates within clearly defined moral and theological boundaries, balancing firmness in belief with gentleness in conduct. When tolerance abandons this balance, it loses its Islamic legitimacy and transforms from a moral virtue into a source of spiritual and ethical harm.

As a closing, try to compare the story presented at the beginning with the following tale that has a different angle:

In a country where the majority of citizens are Muslim, the announcement by the Ministry of Religion Officials that the state will organise a joint Christmas celebration is presented as a historic milestone, as though history itself had been waiting for this ceremonial breakthrough. The media eagerly frames it as progress, novelty, and proof of advanced tolerance, while quietly overlooking the more uncomfortable question of whether symbolism has begun to replace substance. What is striking is not the celebration itself, but the assumption that religious harmony must now be performed publicly through ritual borrowing rather than protected through justice and restraint.

The policy suggests that tolerance has been reimagined as a stage performance, where religious identity is treated like interchangeable costumes in a national pageant. In this performance, the Minister appears as a master of ceremonies, confidently blurring theological boundaries in the hope that confusion might pass as unity. The irony is that, in trying to demonstrate openness, the policy risks reducing religion to a decorative instrument of public relations, rather than a matter of sincere belief and conscience.

From the perspective of Islam, this is precisely where tolerance becomes conceptually distorted. Islamic tolerance, or tasāmuḥ, does not require Muslims to participate in or institutionalise the religious rites of other faiths. The Qur’an firmly establishes coexistence without theological fusion, affirming peaceful relations while preserving clear distinctions in worship and creed. When a Muslim-majority state officially sponsors a religious celebration that is theologically specific to another faith, the act shifts from respecting difference to symbolically endorsing religious equivalence, which Islam does not demand and does not permit.

When examined in light of Sunni scholarly fatwas, the policy of organising a joint Christmas celebration in a Muslim-majority country appears less as an act of principled tolerance and more as a departure from established juristic boundaries. Classical and contemporary Sunni scholars have consistently distinguished between respecting the religious rights of others and participating in, endorsing, or institutionalising religious rituals that are theologically specific to another faith. This distinction is central to understanding why public discomfort emerges in such cases.

Classical Sunni jurists such as Ibn Taymiyyah addressed this issue explicitly in his discussions on religious festivals, arguing that participation in the distinctive religious celebrations of non-Muslims constitutes a form of tacit approval of beliefs that Islam does not affirm. In his work Iqtiḍāʾ aṣ-Ṣirāṭ al-Mustaqīm, he maintained that while Islam commands justice and good conduct towards non-Muslims, it also requires clear differentiation in matters of worship and religious symbolism. For Ibn Taymiyyah, maintaining this distinction was not hostility, but fidelity to Islamic creed.

Similarly, Imām Ibn al-Qayyim emphasised that congratulating or participating in religious festivals rooted in non-Islamic theology risks normalising beliefs that contradict Islamic monotheism. He argued that such actions blur doctrinal boundaries and may mislead the public into assuming religious equivalence. His concern was not social harmony, but theological clarity and moral responsibility, especially for public figures whose actions carry symbolic authority.

Contemporary Sunni fatwa bodies have largely echoed these classical positions. Institutions such as Al-Azhar scholars and juristic councils affiliated with mainstream Sunni thought have repeatedly stated that Muslims may uphold peaceful coexistence, protect churches, and guarantee freedom of worship, yet should refrain from participating in religious rites that are doctrinally incompatible with Islam. Shaykh Yusuf al-Qaradawi, for instance, distinguished sharply between social courtesy and religious participation, permitting kindness and neighbourly goodwill while cautioning against involvement in rituals that affirm theological doctrines foreign to Islam.

Viewed through this juristic lens, a state-sponsored joint Christmas celebration does not merely express goodwill, but symbolically relocates the state from the role of neutral guarantor of religious freedom to an active participant in religious symbolism. For Sunni scholars, this shift is problematic because the state in a Muslim-majority society carries a moral responsibility to reflect Islamic ethical boundaries, particularly in public religious representation. When the state blurs these boundaries, it risks institutionalising confusion rather than fostering genuine coexistence.

The public discomfort, therefore, is not rooted in hostility towards Christians or Christmas itself, but in the intuition that something essential has been misplaced. Islam teaches that justice, security, and freedom of worship for all religions are the true markers of tolerance, not the ceremonial merging of sacred traditions. By confusing tolerance with participation, the policy risks suggesting that faith boundaries are obstacles to harmony rather than meaningful commitments worthy of respect.

In this sense, the so-called historic moment reveals less about the maturity of tolerance and more about its misunderstanding. True Islamic tolerance is quiet, principled, and firm, ensuring that Christians can celebrate Christmas fully and freely, while Muslims remain faithful to their own creed without theatrical gestures of inclusion. When tolerance demands that religion be diluted for the sake of optics, it ceases to be tolerance and becomes a spectacle, leaving behind not harmony but theological ambiguity dressed as progress.

The decision by the Ministry of Religion Officials appears to mandate love and promote compassion among fellow creatures, yet may not necessarily be pleasing to Allah,” captures a fundamental tension that frequently emerges in public discourse within Muslim-majority societies. At first glance, such policies are often framed as moral advances, clothed in the universal language of love, harmony, and goodwill. These values are emotionally resonant and socially appealing, especially in pluralistic contexts. However, the question that deserves serious reflection is not whether an action feels morally attractive to the public, but whether it coheres with the theological framework that defines Islam itself.

In Islamic thought, moral value is not determined solely by human consensus or emotional intuition. While compassion and kindness are central virtues, they are not autonomous principles detached from revelation. The Qur’an repeatedly reminds believers that human judgment is limited and fallible, and that divine knowledge transcends popular sentiment. It explicitly states that people may desire things that are harmful to them and dislike beneficial things, because God knows while humans do not. This principle challenges the modern assumption that widespread approval is a reliable measure of moral truth.

When religious policy is justified primarily through the language of shared humanity and emotional symbolism, it risks shifting the centre of moral authority away from revelation and towards public feeling. The issue, therefore, is not hostility towards others, nor a rejection of coexistence, but the gradual redefinition of religious boundaries in the name of social harmony. Islam recognises coexistence as a social necessity and a moral obligation, yet it also insists that theological identity cannot be dissolved into general ethical sentiment without consequence.

Classical and contemporary Sunni scholars have consistently drawn a distinction between social interaction and religious participation. They affirm justice, kindness, and peaceful relations with people of other faiths, while simultaneously warning against practices that blur doctrinal lines or imply endorsement of beliefs contrary to Islamic creed. Actions that symbolically affirm another religion’s theological claims, even when motivated by goodwill, are therefore treated with caution. What is praised as inclusive by society may still be problematic within the framework of Islamic belief.

There are numerous examples in Islamic jurisprudence where actions widely regarded as good are nevertheless deemed unacceptable. Charity derived from unlawful wealth may generate admiration and gratitude, yet it is rejected by God because its foundation contradicts divine law. Similarly, devotional practices invented without prophetic guidance may feel spiritually fulfilling, but are considered misdirected because sincerity alone does not substitute for adherence to revelation. These examples illustrate a consistent principle: moral appearance does not guarantee spiritual validity.

The broader concern raised by such policies is not merely theological, but ethical in a deeper sense. When religion is expected to continuously adjust its internal boundaries to align with contemporary moral fashion, it risks losing its role as a moral compass and becoming instead a mirror of prevailing social trends. Islam, however, positions itself as a source of moral critique as much as moral comfort. It affirms compassion, but within a structure defined by divine limits rather than public enthusiasm.

Ultimately, genuine tolerance in Islam does not require the dilution of faith, nor does it demand symbolic gestures that compromise theological clarity. It requires justice without prejudice, kindness without confusion, and coexistence without surrendering the principles that give religion its meaning. A policy may succeed in pleasing society, generating positive headlines, and projecting an image of harmony, yet still fall short of fulfilling the standards by which Islam measures faithfulness to Allah. 

The decision by the Ministry of Religion Officials, in this tale, “looks touching and promotes compassion among fellow creatures, yet may not necessarily be pleasing to God. At first glance, such policies are often framed as moral advances, clothed in the universal language of love, harmony, and goodwill. These values are emotionally resonant and socially appealing, especially in pluralistic contexts. However, the question that deserves serious reflection is not whether an action feels morally attractive to the public, but whether it coheres with the theological framework that defines Islam itself.

In Islamic thought, moral value is not determined solely by human consensus or emotional intuition. While compassion and kindness are central virtues, they are not autonomous principles detached from revelation. The Qur’an repeatedly reminds believers that human judgement is limited and fallible, and that divine knowledge transcends popular sentiment. It explicitly states that people may desire things that are harmful to them and dislike things that are beneficial, because God knows while humans do not. This principle challenges the modern assumption that widespread approval is a reliable measure of moral truth.

When religious policy is justified primarily through the language of shared humanity and emotional symbolism, it risks shifting the centre of moral authority away from revelation and towards public feeling. The issue, therefore, is not hostility towards others, nor a rejection of coexistence, but the gradual redefinition of religious boundaries in the name of social harmony. Islam recognises coexistence as a social necessity and a moral obligation, yet it also insists that theological identity cannot be dissolved into general ethical sentiment without consequence.

Classical and contemporary Sunni scholars have consistently drawn a distinction between social interaction and religious participation. They affirm justice, kindness, and peaceful relations with people of other faiths, while simultaneously warning against practices that blur doctrinal lines or imply endorsement of beliefs contrary to Islamic creed. Actions that symbolically affirm another religion’s theological claims, even when motivated by goodwill, are therefore treated with caution. What is praised as inclusive by society may still be problematic within the framework of Islamic belief.

There are numerous examples in Islamic jurisprudence where actions widely regarded as good are nevertheless deemed unacceptable. Charity derived from unlawful wealth may generate admiration and gratitude, yet it is rejected by God because its foundation contradicts divine law. Similarly, devotional practices invented without prophetic guidance may feel spiritually fulfilling, but are considered misdirected because sincerity alone does not substitute for adherence to revelation. These examples illustrate a consistent principle: moral appearance does not guarantee spiritual validity.

The broader concern raised by such policies is not merely theological, but ethical in a deeper sense. When religion is expected to continuously adjust its internal boundaries to align with contemporary moral fashion, it risks losing its role as a moral compass and becoming instead a mirror of prevailing social trends. Islam, however, positions itself as a source of moral critique as much as moral comfort. It affirms compassion, but within a structure defined by divine limits rather than public enthusiasm.

Ultimately, genuine tolerance in Islam does not require the dilution of faith, nor does it demand symbolic gestures that compromise theological clarity. It requires justice without prejudice, kindness without confusion, and coexistence without surrendering the principles that give religion its meaning. A policy may succeed in pleasing society, generating positive headlines, and projecting an image of harmony, yet still fall short of fulfilling the standards by which Islam measures faithfulness to God.

Thus, the criticism that such tolerance is “excessive” aligns closely with Sunni fatwas that define tolerance as protection without participation. Islamic tolerance, according to these scholars, means ensuring that Christians can celebrate Christmas freely, safely, and with dignity, while Muslims, individually and institutionally, refrain from acts that compromise their own creed. When tolerance is redefined as shared ritual rather than shared justice, it moves beyond the limits set by Sunni jurisprudence and transforms from ethical restraint into symbolic overreach. And only Allah knows the absolute truth.

[Bahasa]

Environmental Ethics: Rethinking Our Place in a Burning World (8)

When a natural forest is cleared to make way for oil palm plantations, the most immediate and devastating consequence is the profound loss of biodiversity. Instead of a complex ecosystem supporting thousands of species, the land becomes a monoculture that can only sustain a fraction of the original wildlife, often pushing endangered animals like orangutans and pygmy elephants further toward extinction. From a climate perspective, this transition triggers a massive release of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, particularly if the forest sits on carbon-rich peatlands that are drained for cultivation. Furthermore, the removal of the dense forest canopy and intricate root systems leads to significant soil erosion and alters the local water cycle, which frequently results in more severe flooding and a reduction in water quality for nearby communities. Ultimately, while such plantations provide significant economic revenue and versatile products used globally, they often come at the heavy expense of irreplaceable ecological services and the long-term health of our planet's atmosphere.

Biodiversity represents the immense variety of life on Earth and serves as the essential foundation for the health and stability of our entire planet. It is not merely a count of different species, but rather a complex and interconnected system that includes genetic variation within populations and the vast array of different ecosystems like wetlands, forests, and oceans. This natural variety ensures that ecosystems remain resilient and capable of recovering from environmental stresses, such as droughts or disease, because a diverse environment is far more likely to contain species that can adapt to changing conditions. Furthermore, humanity relies heavily on these biological resources for fundamental needs, including the pollination of our crops, the discovery of new medicines, and the purification of the water we drink. When we protect biodiversity, we are effectively safeguarding the natural services that make human life possible and ensuring that the global environment remains balanced for future generations.

Indonesia's tropical rainforests are home to an extraordinary array of endemic species that cannot be found anywhere else on the planet, making the archipelago one of the most significant hotspots for global biodiversity. One of the most iconic inhabitants is the Critically Endangered Orangutan, particularly the Tapanuli species found in North Sumatra, which represents the rarest great ape in existence. Deep within the dense undergrowth, one might also encounter the magnificent Rafflesia arnoldii, a parasitic plant that produces the largest individual flower in the world and emits a pungent scent to attract pollinators. Furthermore, the Indonesian wilderness provides a sanctuary for the elusive Javan Rhinoceros and the Sumatran Tiger, both of which are currently teetering on the edge of extinction due to habitat fragmentation. These forests also support unique avian life such as the Maleo bird, which relies on geothermal heat to incubate its eggs, as well as the vibrant Birds of Paradise in Papua that exhibit some of the most complex mating rituals in the animal kingdom.

The forests of Papua represent some of the most pristine and biodiverse wilderness areas remaining on the planet, hosting a spectacular array of wildlife that has evolved in relative isolation over millions of years. Perhaps the most celebrated examples of this unique biodiversity are the various species of Birds of Paradise, such as the Wilson’s Bird-of-Paradise and the Greater Bird-of-Paradise, which are renowned for their extraordinarily vibrant plumage and the complex, theatrical courtship dances performed by the males. In addition to these avian wonders, Papua is home to the remarkable tree kangaroo, a marsupial that has adapted to a life high in the canopy rather than on the ground, and the long-beaked echidna, a primitive egg-laying mammal that is found nowhere else in the world. The region also boasts an incredible variety of flora, including thousands of unique orchid species and the towering Agathis trees that dominate the primary forest landscape. Protecting these forests is of paramount importance, as many of these species are highly specialised and remain extremely vulnerable to any significant changes in their natural habitat.

The "Land Ethic" is a revolutionary philosophical concept introduced by Aldo Leopold in his seminal work, "A Sand County Almanack", which was published posthumously in 1949 by Oxford University Press. At its core, the Land Ethic suggests that the boundaries of the human community should be expanded to include soils, waters, plants, and animals, collectively referred to as "the land." Leopold argued that we must shift our perspective from seeing the natural world merely as a commodity to be exploited for economic gain to viewing ourselves as "plain members and citizens" of a wider biotic community. He famously proposed that an action is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community, and wrong when it tends otherwise. This ethical framework demands that humans exercise moral restraint and assume a sense of stewardship, ensuring that our interactions with nature are guided by respect and a deep understanding of the interconnectedness of all living things.

Aldo Leopold asserts that humans must transition from being conquerors of the land to becoming plain members and citizens of the biotic community. The assertion is rooted in the belief that the traditional "conqueror" role of humans is ultimately self-defeating and intellectually flawed. He argued that throughout history, the conqueror mentality has led humans to believe they possess a superior understanding of the natural world, when in reality, the immense complexity of ecosystems means that our interventions often cause unforeseen and disastrous consequences. By viewing ourselves as members of a wider biological community, we acknowledge that our existence is inextricably linked to the health of the soil, water, and wildlife, thereby necessitating a shift from exploitative mastery to a role characterised by humility and mutual respect. This perspective essentially demands that we apply the same ethical standards we use within human society to our relationship with the environment, recognising that the integrity of the whole depends upon the well-being of every interconnected part.

Applying Aldo Leopold’s Land Ethic to the recurring floods in Sumatra requires a radical shift in how we manage the island’s landscapes, moving away from a model of aggressive land exploitation toward one of ecological restoration. Under the "conqueror" mentality, the vast rainforests and peatlands of Sumatra have been drained and cleared for industrial plantations, a process that destroys the natural sponge-like capacity of the soil to absorb heavy tropical rainfall. If we were to act as "plain members" of the biotic community, our primary objective would be to protect and restore the integrity of these critical watersheds and peat domes, recognising that the stability of human settlements downstream is entirely dependent on the health of the forests upstream. This would involve a transition toward "nature-based solutions," such as reforestation and the preservation of riparian buffer zones, which respect the natural flow of water rather than attempting to control it through inadequate infrastructure. Ultimately, adopting this philosophy would mean acknowledging that the frequent flooding is not merely a natural disaster, but a direct symptom of a broken relationship between human industry and the biological community of Sumatra.

Applying Aldo Leopold’s Land Ethic to the proposed expansion of palm oil plantations in Papua necessitates a profound re-evaluation of how we value one of the world’s last remaining frontiers of primary rainforest. From the perspective of a "conqueror," these vast landscapes are often viewed merely as underutilised capital or "empty" spaces ripe for economic transformation; however, the Land Ethic demands that we recognise Papua as a complex, living biotic community with its own inherent right to exist and function. Adopting the role of a "plain member" would mean that any development plan must first ensure the integrity and stability of the existing ecosystem, which in Papua's case includes irreplaceable peat swamps and unique high-altitude forests that serve as critical carbon sinks. Furthermore, this philosophy would prioritise the traditional ecological knowledge of indigenous Papuan communities, who have lived as members of this biological community for millennia, over industrial models that rely on total land clearance and monoculture. Ultimately, applying this ethical framework suggests that the long-term biological health of Papua’s soil, water, and endemic wildlife should never be sacrificed for short-term economic gains, as the loss of such a unique environment would represent a moral failure and an irreversible rupture in the global biotic community.

In his influential book "Biodiversity and Environmental Philosophy: An Introduction" (2005), Sahotra Sarkar defines biodiversity not as a fixed biological entity, but as a normative concept that represents the intended target of conservation biology. He argues that biodiversity encompasses the total variety of life across all levels of biological organisation—from genetic variation and species richness to the complexity of entire ecosystems—while acknowledging that it is practically impossible to measure every single biological feature. Consequently, Sarkar suggests that in the field, we must use "surrogates," such as indicator species or specific habitat types, to operationally represent this vast diversity for the purpose of systematic conservation planning.

Regarding its connections with environmental philosophy, Sarkar bridges the gap between scientific epistemology and ethics by critiquing the traditional notion of "intrinsic value" in nature, which he finds philosophically insufficient for policy-making. Instead, he proposes an anthropocentric justification based on "transformative value," asserting that biodiversity is vital because our interactions with the natural world—through aesthetic appreciation, scientific inquiry, and exploration—have the power to fundamentally transform and enrich human preferences and intellectual lives. By framing conservation biology as a goal-oriented or "normative" science, Sarkar argues that the choice of what we conserve is ultimately a philosophical decision, while the methods used to achieve those goals remain a matter of rigorous scientific and mathematical modelling.

According to Sarkar, the decision regarding what specifically should be preserved is not merely a biological question but a deeply philosophical one that depends on identifying which components of the natural world hold "transformative value" for humanity. He argues that we must prioritise the conservation of biological entities and systems that have the potential to challenge and expand our existing human values, such as rare species, unique evolutionary lineages, and complex ecosystems that provide opportunities for scientific discovery and aesthetic awe. Sarkar posits that since we cannot preserve every single element of the living world due to limited resources, we must philosophically choose "surrogates" that represent the broader diversity of life, ensuring that the most distinct and irreplaceable features of our planet's biological heritage are protected. Ultimately, he suggests that we should conserve those aspects of nature that ensure the continued flourishing of both the physical environment and the human intellectual experience, framing conservation as a deliberate choice to maintain the richness of the world for the sake of future human transformation.

The central message of Aldo Leopold’s "A Sand County Almanac" is that humanity must cultivate a new ethical consciousness known as the "Land Ethic," which shifts our role from being masters of nature to being humble members of a wider biological community. He asserts that we have a moral obligation to protect the integrity and beauty of the ecosystem not because of its economic utility, but because the land itself possesses an inherent right to exist and thrive. In contrast, Sahotra Sarkar’s "Biodiversity and Environmental Philosophy" conveys the message that conservation is a normative, value-driven science that must be grounded in rational human interests rather than abstract claims of nature’s intrinsic rights. Sarkar argues that we must protect biodiversity primarily for its "transformative value," meaning its profound ability to enrich the human experience, expand our knowledge, and alter our cultural preferences through scientific and aesthetic engagement. While Leopold speaks to our moral conscience and our spiritual connection to the earth, Sarkar provides a logical and systematic framework for making difficult conservation choices in a world of limited resources, yet both authors ultimately urge us to recognise that the survival of a diverse natural world is essential for the future of humanity.

The contrasting philosophies of Aldo Leopold and Sahotra Sarkar could profoundly reshape the drafting of environmental laws in Indonesia by providing two different, yet complementary, justifications for stricter regulations. If Indonesian legislators adopted Leopold’s "Land Ethic," the legal framework would likely move toward granting legal personhood to natural features, such as rivers or forests, similar to the "Rights of Nature" laws seen in other nations, thereby making the destruction of ecosystems a violation of inherent rights regardless of economic impact. Conversely, applying Sarkar’s "transformative value" would lead to laws that prioritise the protection of biodiversity as a vital resource for human intellectual and cultural development, justifying the preservation of Papuan or Sumatran forests as irreplaceable laboratories for scientific research and sites of national aesthetic heritage. While a Leopold-inspired law would focus on the moral duty to protect the "integrity and beauty" of the Indonesian archipelago, a Sarkar-inspired policy would focus on "systematic conservation planning" to ensure that the most unique biological "surrogates" are maintained for the benefit of future generations. Ultimately, integrating both perspectives could result in a robust legal system that protects Indonesia's natural wealth both for its own sake and for its power to transform and enrich the lives of its citizens.

[Part 9]
[Part 7]

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