Holiday Calendars and the Idealisation of Tolerance

The long Eid al-Adha holiday this year—stretching up to six days—feels like a luxurious collective pause. We stop together, even if we do not always share the same faith. On paper, this is a beautiful portrait of tolerance: the state provides space for all religions to be celebrated, and citizens immerse themselves in that rhythm.

However, experiences in the coastal regions of South Sulawesi—for instance, among fishing communities in Paksep and Takalar—offer a no less honest perspective. There, religious rhythms frequently negotiate with the rhythms of nature. When the fishing season arrives and the weather is favourable, boats continue to head to sea even on days that are normatively considered sacred. Time from dawn until midday is spent at sea, and congregational worship often adjusts to the schedule of returning to land. There is no commotion, nor any emerging sense of guilt; everything proceeds as a form of silent compromise between faith and the pressing, non-deferrable needs of livelihood.

At this point, we must ask honestly: does stopping together on holidays truly bring us closer to one another? Because the reality is, many of us merely enjoy the holiday as a period of rest—not as an opportunity to understand the beliefs of others. This is a fragile form of tolerance: we are socially compliant, but not necessarily emotionally connected. We live side by side, but have not yet truly greeted one another. Our tolerance is neat on the calendar, but often fragile in our relationships. This is where idealisation at work: we feel we are sufficiently tolerant simply because we possess many religious holidays. On the other hand, there is a quieter but equally important question: what happens to our work rhythm?