The first thing I do is list the variables. 1. Physical hazard: fire, heat, running. 2. Frequency: how often do they do it? 3. Historical injuries: any record of burns, drownings, accidents? 4. Cultural payoff: is it a central part of identity, or just a party trick? If the tribe has a long history with no serious casualties, that’s a big sign they’ve already built mitigation—ropes, water, trained guides. The risk is not just the act itself but the likelihood of something going wrong. I would set a tolerance level: if the probability of serious injury is under, say, 1 % per event and the cultural value is high, I’d allow it with strict safety protocols. If the risk climbs beyond that, the cost outweighs the benefit. So, yes, my model would accept it only if the tribe has a proven safety system in place and the ritual is truly integral to their social fabric. Otherwise, I’d say it’s a recipe for tragedy masquerading as renewal.

The moral that pops out is that risk can become a double‑edged sword. If you let a single incident turn a cleansing rite into a cautionary tale, you’ve lost the original purpose. So the lesson is two‑fold: keep the ritual safe, or replace it with a safer one that still carries the same symbolic weight. In short, the story warns that the bravest thing you can do is to respect the limits of what’s safe, even if it means rewriting a tradition.