I

n many parts of the world, the debate over what constitutes a religion is just a matter of semantics, whereas the words “faith” and “religion” are often used interchangeably. As the old saying goes, one’s superstition is another man’s religion.

But in Indonesia, the subject has long become a contentious political issue that could determine whether or not one could be elected president, or to any kind of public post.

Great scholars on religion, like Reza Azlan, would argue that “faith” and “religion,” or “organized religion,” are two different things. Faith, they say, is constant, deeper and way more personal, while religion is changing, typically superficial, if not banal, and more impersonal.

But the debate over what makes one’s belief a religion or a superstition is far less scholastic in Indonesia, where religious beliefs are a major factor in politics. For decades, the state has been faced with the big question of whether it should consider native faiths as religions that are equal to their foreign, globalist counterparts that have culturally invaded the country for centuries: Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism.

Indonesian ethnic groups had had their own belief systems — such as Sunda Wiwitan, Marapu or Parmalim — way before the great world religions came to the archipelago. They are seen as indigenous, or pribumi, to the country and many of their followers have survived centuries of systemic proselytization by the major religions.

Life has not been easy for native-faith followers. In modern Indonesia, they have been socially and legally considered second-class citizens. The root problem lies in the fact that the state has been forced by the more dominant, hegemonic religions to distinguish “religions” and “faiths.”

While the 1945 Constitution recognizes their existence and guarantees the rights of their followers, native faiths are still considered inferior to the six major religions in legislation. In 1978, the People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR) issued a decree saying that native faiths “are not religions.” The decree further stipulates that native faiths should be managed “in a direction that they would not be made into new religions.”

Since then, native-faith followers were forced to identify with one of the five officially recognized religions on their ID cards, because IDs should identify their religions, not their traditions.

In 2006, legislators enacted a Civil Administration Law requiring them to leave the religion field on their ID cards blank, a policy that, while well-intended, has inadvertently made native-faith followers look like they do not believe in religions, or worse, be perceived as atheists or communists.

The Constitutional Court ruling last week, which declares the policy unconstitutional, was thus lauded by many as a victory for religious freedom.

The court stated that agama (religion) and kepercayaan (native faiths) are equal and should have been given equal rights. Native-faith followers, the court concludes, should be allowed to identify themselves as penghayat kepercayaan (native-faith follower) on their ID cards.

But the ruling will by no means stop discrimination against followers of indigenous religions, simply because they have long been stigmatized as pseudo-religions. And the state has no plan to end the stigma.

The Religious Affairs Ministry has until now refused to acknowledge native faiths as religions that deserve their services. As they are considered mere traditions, the Education and Culture Ministry has been tasked with catering to the needs of the native-faith followers.

The latter has given only partial service to native faith followers, whose children are often alienated during religious study sessions at school. During an examination, for example, children of native-faith followers are often offered to do the religious tests on Islam or Christianity or told to bring their question sheets to test their knowledge about their own faiths.

The Indonesian Ulema Council (MUI), meanwhile, has warned the government to be cautious in implementing the ruling, with one member saying that it has “set the country back to the Stone Age.”

It is encouraging that all political parties except the United Development Party (PPP) are willing to revise the existing Civil Administration Law to accommodate native faiths. But there is no guarantee that lawmakers will make a difference either, simply because no politicians are open-minded or brave enough to acknowledge the fact that the main problem could be the policy of forcing people to state their beliefs on ID cards itself.

In defending the policy, the government says the religion field is needed for a number of administrative issues. But as long as religious group followers consider others inferior or illegitimate, the idea of putting a religion field on ID cards would lead to nothing but discrimination.

Imagine having to mention your race or ethnicity on your ID card — would such a policy be considered racist? Most people would say yes. It may serve some administrative purposes, but is it worth it?

Invoking the word pribumi and depicting those claiming to be such as “pariah” to highlight the problem of equality in the country has now largely been considered anachronistic, or even racist. That’s because racial-based discrimination is practically over after Indonesia gained independence, with the 1945 Constitution clearly stating that “freedom is the inalienable right of all nations.”

While racism persists, the state — with a few exceptions — no longer implements the regulations that sustain it.

The situation is totally different with regard to religious-based discrimination. The country’s native-faith followers know that such a problem is alive and well: Pribumi faiths have always been a pariah in their own country.