theroguequill

[theroguequill]

Where Faith Meets Freedom—And Where It Doesn’t

Having spent much of my professional life trying to make sense of human systems—laws, rights, social contracts—I’ve long been drawn to the bigger question behind the rules: what shapes the values of a society? Growing up, I’d always been fascinated by how people come to believe what they believe, and how those beliefs either bring people together or push them apart. And over time, it became clear to me that religion—regardless of flavour—sits at the centre of most of those deeper currents.

The idea for this reflection started, as these things often do, with a conversation. A series of questions that led me down a winding path: are all religions equal in the good they do? Is there such a thing as a religion that works better for society than others? Why do some countries grant their people full freedom of belief, while others control what they’re allowed to think, say, or practice?

As I followed the thread, one theme emerged above the rest: it’s not so much about the religion itself, but the system it’s sitting inside.

Let’s start with what’s clear. In places like Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, Canada, and much of Western Europe, you find governments that generally keep their hands off religion. They don’t enforce belief, they don’t punish apostasy, and they don’t use religion as a political tool. In those places, the result is simple—people are more free. Free to believe or not believe. Free to express themselves. Free to live next to people who are different from them without seeing it as a threat.

Compare that with the other end of the spectrum—think Iran, Saudi Arabia, Taliban-led Afghanistan, Myanmar. These are states where religion is hardwired into the political system. Where laws are written directly from sacred texts, and where religious institutions and governments are often one and the same. Here, religion isn’t just personal—it’s mandatory. And if you don’t comply, the consequences can be severe.

What separates these two worlds? It’s not theology—it’s power. Authoritarian regimes tend to cling tightly to religion, not out of devotion, but out of convenience. It becomes a tool to consolidate control, to silence dissent, and to justify law and punishment.

The moment religion becomes inseparable from the state, it stops being a choice. Suddenly it’s not just a worldview—it’s a legal system, a national identity, a measuring stick for who belongs and who doesn’t. That’s when we start to see the worst social outcomes: persecution of minorities, systemic discrimination, restricted freedoms, and in some cases, violent enforcement.

Countries where religion dominates politics often suffer from:

Legal inequality, especially for women and religious minorities

Lack of freedom of speech or press

Political use of religious identity to marginalise or punish

Absence of checks and balances to hold power accountable

It’s not the religion causing the problem—it’s how it’s being used.

And then there are the places that seem to get the balance right. Countries where religion is welcomed, but not weaponised. Where you can be Christian, Muslim, atheist, or anything in between, and not have your rights change with your beliefs. These countries tend to have:

Secular constitutions that protect freedom of belief

Strong, independent institutions

A culture of pluralism and tolerance

Civil society that holds both government and religion to account

Here, religion has the space to thrive—but so do people’s rights. It’s a live-and-let-live approach that recognises something very human: belief is powerful, but it should never be forced.

It’s tempting to want to compare religions directly. To ask which ones are ‘better’ for society. But the deeper you look, the more you realise that every religion has the potential to do good or harm—it all depends on who’s holding the reins.

In open societies, religion often inspires community service, charity, justice, and peace. In closed ones, the same beliefs can become tools of oppression. The dividing line isn’t between religions—it’s between freedom and control.

Much like the ocean I fell in love with all those years ago, religion is vast, deep, and layered with meaning. It can nourish, or it can drown. It all depends on how we engage with it—and whether we let it remain personal, or turn it into a system of force.

If there’s a lesson in all this, it’s that belief is not the enemy. Control is. And the most powerful thing a society can do is protect people’s right to believe freely—without fear, and without favour.

[theroguequill]

From South Africa to Australia: A Different Landscape, the Same Struggle

Frustration and Alienation: Navigating Racial Policies in Australia

Having grown up in South Africa, I’m no stranger to feeling like a minority. It’s a strange thing to be on the other side of the world and suddenly find myself in a new country with its own set of challenges and policies around race. Australia, like any country, has its fair share of issues. While I have yet to experience any outright prejudice from Australia’s racial policies, there’s still something that bothers me—a frustration that builds up over time, a sense of alienation that weighs on me more than I would like to admit.

Tired of the Policies, Not the People

In Australia, I’m not a direct victim of racial injustice, but there’s a significant part of me that is tired of hearing about policies aimed at acknowledging, protecting or benefiting indigenous communities. These initiatives, though important, seem to overlook the deeper nuances of social inequality. When I look at these policies through the lens of my South African background, where I too was once a disadvantaged minority, it feels like the focus is always on one group, to the exclusion of others, and it gets old. I’ve heard enough of the endless Acknowledgement of Country ceremonies, where the words get said, but over time they feel like little more than empty gestures that lose their meaning with repetition.

The Weight of Sensitivity

What frustrates me even more is the overwhelming sensitivity many white Australians display towards indigenous issues. I didn’t have the luxury of such well-meaning, but often misplaced, attention growing up. In South Africa, I fought tooth and nail for opportunities as a minority, only to have those struggles largely ignored or glossed over by those who didn't share my experience. Here in Australia, I sometimes feel like these policies are framed in a way that assumes I’m part of the problem just because I’m white, even though I had no role in creating these issues.

Exhaustion of the System

The exhaustion of navigating these policies compounds. I didn’t leave South Africa to escape racial politics only to find myself drowning in a new set of them. I feel alienated by policies that seem to perpetuate division rather than unity. The focus on the past continues to shape the present, even in a place where I’m supposed to be starting fresh. It becomes tiring, repetitive, and ultimately frustrating.

A Different Kind of Struggle

It’s not about being unsympathetic to the needs of indigenous Australians. It’s about the feeling that these policies often create a skewed sense of what true equality looks like. I came to Australia seeking a chance to move forward, but I find myself bogged down by the never-ending focus on a past that, though tragic, continues to define the present. The same feelings of frustration I had in South Africa now follow me across the world, only in a different form. In both countries, the struggle for recognition, equality, and opportunity has been distorted by policies that seem more intent on perpetuating division than fostering real change.

Being White in Australia: The Overlooked Experience

When I’m asked to contribute to initiatives that centre indigenous affairs, I don’t deny the importance of these issues. However, there’s a part of me that feels disillusioned. The more I hear, the more I’m reminded of the endless talk in South Africa about restitution and reparation, about fighting against systems that leave certain people behind. Here, it feels like that same cycle is repeating itself. Policies aimed at uplifting one group feel like they come at the expense of others, creating a hierarchy of struggles, and I find myself exhausted by it all.

Frustration with the Same Old Game

So, what does all of this mean for me, a white South African in Australia? It means that I carry with me a baggage of frustration, of exhaustion, and, at times, a sense of alienation. It means I’m trying to find a way to navigate a society that seems bent on repeating the same racial divisions of the past, even when the context has changed. And it means I’m left wondering when, or if, we will ever truly move forward, away from the policies that continue to define us by our race and not by our shared humanity.

Seeking Unity, Not Division

If you find yourself reading this and thinking I’m bitter or cynical, perhaps that’s true to some extent. But it’s not about denying the need for change; it’s about being tired of policies that seem more concerned with managing perceptions than addressing real, meaningful inequality. It's about wanting to move past the divisions that have been in place for far too long and embrace a future where everyone is given the opportunity to succeed—not based on race, but on merit and opportunity.

The Hope for Change

In the end, it's about hoping that one day, I’ll no longer feel like a stranger in this land of endless possibilities—because, at this point, I feel like I’m simply another player in the same old game of racial politics, only on the other side of the world.

[theroguequill]

A South African Spearo in South Australia

There are many perceptions about Australia, some good and some bad. Aussies are often perceived as being unfriendly but very laid back, while Australia itself is perceived as infested with deadly spiders, snakes, jellyfish, massive sharks, but to name a few. Coming from South Africa this was certainly the picture given to me from the many “armchair” experts who heard that I was going to be emigrating.

The destination was Adelaide, in South Australia. Adelaide is the capital of South Australia with a population of around 1.3 million people. It is by far the smallest city I have ever lived in and I was looking forward to a slower pace of life. Being a devoted spearfisherman, I landed in Adelaide in August 2018 with my speargun, dive gear and a few clothes, eager to hit the water and try out the local dive spots.  

Being a regional area with low population density, South Australia has a very small community of serious spearo’s. This made it quite a difficult task to meet other like minded spearo’s however, after much Facebook searching I eventually joined a spearfishing Facebook group and made a few dive friends.

As any good spearo will know, 95% of spearfishing involves proper research of local conditions and species and reconnaissance of dive locations. The remaining 5 % involves the actual hunting and shooting of the fish. Being new to South Australia I threw myself into this wholeheartedly and I was surprised at some of the similarities between diving in South Australia and diving in Cape town, South Africa.

The first question I always get asked is “what is the water temperature like”? As all Cape Town spearos will know, temperatures between 10 and 14 degrees Celsius all year round is the norm in Cape Town, unless you dive False Bay in summer. In South Australia water temperatures fluctuate between 13 degrees Celsius in winter and 22 degrees Celsius in summer. What a win!

Like Cape Town, Adelaide is located on a peninsula, called the Fleurieu Peninsula, so it doesn’t matter what direction the wind is blowing, there is always a diveable spot to be found. This, coupled with the fact that St Vincents Gulf (the “False Bay” side of the Fleurieu Peninsula) gets very little swell (a few feet at most,) or wind means that almost every day will be divable. When the odd “dirty” day does occur, the lack of any meaningful swell usually means the next day has great diving conditions once again. I learned very quickly that my perception of “dirty water” was very different to that of my dive mates in Australia. I can remember many times in Cape Town when I was scratching around in half a meter of vis for crayfish and spearing a fish in one meter of vis. This doesn’t seem to be something done here where ten meter plus vis seems to be the norm.

While consistently good vis is fantastic, one can’t always have things their way, and the consistency of the good conditions is counterbalanced by the lack of depth and underwater structure. While Cape Town is surrounded by mountains, which make for brilliant underwater structures and deep water dives, the ocean surrounding the Fleurieu Peninsula is largely flat, shallow and uninteresting by Cape Town standards. While Cape Town offers massive kelp forests, the ocean surrounding the Fleurieu Peninsula has only sea grass. While this is great for your float line, it’s a pain trying to identify hidey-holes for fish and crayfish.

In the five months I have been diving around the Fleurieu Peninsula I have yet to find a good shore dive that will offer me depths deeper than eight meters. While I am yet to do some boat diving, St Vincents Gulf unfortunately does not seem to drop below 20 meters. While in Cape Town my dives usually only started in around eight meters of water, here in South Australia they usually start in about one meter of water. This can be frustrating at times, especially when you are out for three hours and can’t dive beyond three meters.

And now to the most important question I get asked, “what is the marine life like”? There is a diverse range of fish, molluscs, and crustaceans in South Australia offering a much bigger selection to a spearo than in Cape Town. For one thing, you can harvest abalone (five per day) and the crayfish season is from 01 November to 31 May each year, with a bag limit of four crayfish per day. Interestingly enough, it seems to be quite hard to find a spot that has legal size crayfish (being 10.5 cm, and not 8cm as is the case for West Coast Rock Lobster in Cape Town) on the Fleurieu Peninsula. Stocks seem to have been severely depleted around the Fleurieu Peninsula and I have been told that one has to travel quite a bit further to find decent crayfishing spots. Anyway, the search will continue and I still have a lot of exploring to do. Hopefully I will find my “secret spot” soon.

Overall the fish life is more diverse than in Cape Town waters, and the fish is much tastier. This is again a big win, considering that Cape Town offers a very limited selection of reef fish to choose from. If I never see a Hottentot (Seabream) again in my life I will really happy.

The reef fish most frequently found and shot include Sweep, Flathead, Boarfish, Whiting, Squid, Snook, Wrasse, Silver Drummer, Dusky Morwong, Perch and Salmon, to name but a few. Picking up a few Abalone on a dive is also very common (another win). So far I have been limited to shore diving and therefore limited in what I can find. I’m looking forward to the day when I can buy myself another boat and start targeting bigger fish further out on the numerous wrecks and artificial reefs to be found in St Vincents Gulf.

One last point to mention, which comes up every time I discuss spearfishing, is the topic of sharks. There are over 160 species of shark that inhabit Australian waters of which the Great White Shark is considered the most dangerous. Other sharks that you may encounter in South Australia include the Thresher Shark, Mako Shark, Bronze Whaler And Dusky Shark. South Australia has quite an effective shark spotter system. Unlike Cape Town, where the shark spotters sit on the side of the mountains, in South Australia they fly around in helicopters. It is very common to see the shark spotter helicopter patrolling and if it starts to circle you at a low altitude (as it did for two of my mates a few days ago) you had better get out of the water quickly.

The most common sightings include Bronze Whalers and Great Whites. And the Great Whites here are BIG, frequently in excess of four meters! Another difference to Cape Town is that in South Australia the sharks seem to come into very shallow water more frequently. For example on 17 December there were three different sightings of Great Whites at three different locations, each sighting being within 20 meters of the shore. The number of shark sightings is certainly a lot higher than what I experienced in South Africa. I think this could possibly be due to the very clean water and shallow ocean found around the Fleurieu Peninsula, along with the patrolling shark spotters.

While I admit I still have a hell of a lot to learn about spearfishing in Australia and the local conditions, and acknowledge that I am by no means an expert, I have tried to accurately cover my experience so far. Since arriving I have found a great bunch of dive mates who have been fantastic in sharing their knowledge of local conditions with me. Too all those people who told me Australian’s were unfriendly, you have clearly never visited South Australia. If anyone reading this ever finds themselves in Adelaide please feel free to contact me to hook up for a dive.

Cheers

Nic

[theroguequill]

The Indian Ocean in all her glory! 06:45am in Durban, KwaZulu Natal, South Africa. Warm winters morning. Temperature about 22 degrees Celsius.

[theroguequill]

Freediving

The ocean is the life force of earth and covers over 70% of the planet's surface, yet 95% of this realm remains unexplored, unseen and untouched by humans.

Having grown up on the east coast of South Africa, swimming and surfing in the warm Indian Ocean, I have always been fascinated with the ocean and have always had a burning desire to explore its depths. My journey into the ocean depths began about nine years ago, when I was introduced to the concept of breath hold diving by my then scuba diving instructor, who was trying to sell me a second hand speargun. Since this time my life has been a whirlwind of learning and adventure. Freediving has become a lifestyle which has me constantly looking at weather and ocean conditions and finding every excuse to spend time in the deep.

So what is freediving exactly?

According to Wikipedia, freediving is “a form of underwater diving that relies on divers' ability to hold their breath until resurfacing rather than on the use of a breathing apparatus such as scuba gear”. However, if you ask any true freediver, this definition barely touches on the true meaning of being freediver. Rather, a freediver will tell you that freediving equates to freedom and liberation, focusing only on the moment, while pushing your body to depths unimaginable to the average person.

Freediving has become a lot more scientific in recent times, with an increased focus on freediving physiology. It is no longer a matter of simply holding your breath and swimming under water. Understanding how your body works underwater is one of the most fundamental aspects of freediving and is essential if one wants to avoid injuries or death. In addition, understanding why you get the urge to breathe while holding your breathe is essential to diving deeper, longer and safer. The simple understanding of these concepts allows one to push beyond their preconceived limits.

Every mammal (including humans) have a diving reflex known as the Mammalian Dive Reflex, which consists of a set of responses that are activated when our face is cooled (as it is when submerged in water) or when we hold our breath. The Mammalian Dive Reflex allows the body to manage and withstand much lower levels of oxygen. When the Mammalian Dive Reflex kicks in, a number of things happen to the human body, such as the slowing of the heart rate (up to 20 beats per minute for trained freedivers) and the narrowing of blood vessels in the limbs. The narrowing of blood vessels ensures that oxygenated blood is directed away from the limbs and moved to vital organs like the brain and heart.

When asking the question, “Why do you get the urge to breathe when holding your breath”, the answer seems obvious … because you are running out of oxygen! In fact, this is not correct!

Rather, it is the increasing concentration of carbon dioxide in your bloodstream that brings on the desire to breathe, and not, contrary to popular belief, the lack of oxygen available in your lungs. When holding your breath oxygen in the lungs is metabolized, which in turn increases the level of carbon dioxide in your bloodstream. The higher the level of carbon dioxide in your bloodstream, the stronger your urge to breath.

The urge to breathe manifests itself in a number of ways, such as swallowing, contractions through the diaphragm and burning sensations. The key to freediving and long breath holds is to train yourself to push through these sensations while continuing to hold your breath. As a freediver, you can use these sensations of discomfort as a warning that it is time to head calmly to the surface.

Having a clear understanding of the above is the key difference between a 1 minute breath hold and a 5 minute breath hold, a 5m dive and 30m dive, and blacking out under water or making it to the surface alive.

Since discovering freediving I have managed to dive to depths previously unimaginable to me and hold my breath for longer than I ever thought possible. I have discovered freedom in an unexplored and wild environment where the only limits are those set by me. Freediving is a personal journey which is different for everyone, where learning and limits can never end.        

Current standing world freediving records

Longest breath hold underwater (breathe up on pure oxygen) – 24 min 03 sec

Longest breath hold underwater (breathe up without on pure oxygen) – 11 min 54 sec

Deepest dive without fins or weights – 102 meters

Deepest dive with weight – 253.20 meters