A Tradition Beginning to Lose Direction
After Eid al-Fitr, apartment residents usually organize Halal bihalal gatherings. A tradition born from a very human need—to repair relationships and strengthen brotherhood. It is not merely a post-Eid ceremony, but a social space to ease egos, erase prejudice, and reconnect strained relationships. This tradition is strong not because of rules, but because of its meaning.
However, precisely because it is wrapped in cultural legitimacy, its practice has begun to shift without many daring to correct it. In times of economic tightening and rising fuel prices, along with an increasingly severe global recession, prices continue to rise and purchasing power weakens—halal bihalal sometimes turns into something contradictory: a gathering meant for togetherness that instead becomes a burden.
Halal bihalal does not originate from formal Islamic worship practices, but rather from a social tradition that grew in Indonesia in the mid-20th century. It is often associated with the early independence period, when the term was popularized to ease political and social tensions through national reconciliation. Substantively, it is rooted in Islamic values such as mutual forgiveness and maintaining brotherhood, but the form of the event itself is not specifically regulated in Islamic law. Therefore, halal bihalal is not obligatory in religious law; it falls within the realm of recommendation (permissible to sunnah in the context of maintaining ties), as long as it is conducted without elements that contradict fundamental principles such as coercion, showing off, or dishonesty, then halal bihalal holds high spiritual value. In other words, what carries value is not the event itself, but the intention and how it is carried out.
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When Togetherness Turns Into Pressure
Togetherness that should feel light begins to feel heavy when contributions become an unwritten obligation, when participation is treated as a measure of social loyalty, and when attendance is no longer about intention but pressure. At this point, the tradition no longer unites but quietly filters who is “compliant” and who is considered “resistant.”
In such an atmosphere, the social space loses its natural character. People attend not because they want to, but because they feel uneasy not attending. And when “uneasy” becomes the main reason, what remains is not togetherness, but enforced compliance.
Donations Without Numbers: A Gap That Gets Exploited
Behind collective moments like this, patterns often emerge that are rarely discussed openly. Halal bihalal becomes an entry point for fundraising wrapped in narratives of togetherness, yet lacking accountability. Emotions are mobilized, while logic is asked to stay silent.
Funds are collected, but proper numerical reports never truly appear. Expenses are presented in general terms, often only in the form of images, or merely bundled reports such as “5 packages,” “5 boxes,” and similar descriptions, without detailed contents and without figures that can be verified. When questions are raised, the response is often not clarification, but moral pressure: “it’s already sincere, isn’t it?”
Here, the focus is deliberately shifted. As if the problem lies with the donor who asks questions, not with the manager who lacks transparency. Yet the critical point is clear: the issue is not the sincerity of the giver, but the obligation of the receiver to be accountable.Â
If there is no numerical report, the public has every right to question where the funds have gone.
Sincerity was never designed to eliminate accountability. Without transparency, trust is only waiting for the right moment to collapse—and when it does, what breaks is not just the event, but the social relationships within it.
Restoring Common Sense in Tradition
Deliberation, which should be the foundation, often turns into mere formality. Decisions are already made, and participation is only sought as legitimacy. In fact, openness from the beginning is the simplest way to prevent suspicion and conflict.
On the other hand, the urge to make an event appear “proper” often overrides common sense. In difficult economic conditions, forcing extravagance only reflects a loss of sensitivity. Halal bihalal does not require a large scale to be meaningful. In simplicity, its essence is actually more profound.
At this point, every individual has a choice. Asking questions is natural. Demanding transparency is a right. Even refusing to participate in an unclear system is not a rejection of togetherness, but a form of concern for healthy governance.
In the end, halal bihalal will only retain its value if it is upheld with honesty, openness, and awareness of shared conditions. Otherwise, it will continue as an annual ritual—crowded on the outside, but empty within.
FAQ:
1. Is it mandatory to attend halal bihalal?
No. Halal bihalal is not mandatory, but a voluntary tradition.
2. Is it acceptable to refuse contributions if they are not transparent?
Yes. Every individual has the right to know how collected funds are used.
3. How should objections be expressed?
Convey them politely, clearly, and based on principles of transparency and togetherness.
4. Does halal bihalal have to be expensive?
No. It can be conducted simply without reducing its meaning.
5. What should be done if there is no deliberation?
Propose holding a discussion. If there is no response, you have the right not to participate.
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