Ajivika thinkers anchored their universe on the principle of niyati, an unbending cosmic fate that sweeps aside any notion of free will. By and large, they pointed to the regularity of natural phenomena—sunrise and sunset, monsoon patterns, even eclipses—as proof that every event unfolds like clockwork. If fate governs the turning of seasons, they argued, why should human choices escape the same iron grip?

Tapping into a secular critique, Ajivikas highlighted the moral neutrality of natural disasters. A tsunami or earthquake shows no preference for virtue or vice; innocence and guilt alike are swept away. That indiscriminate force seemed to them a smoking gun against karma-based ethics, suggesting instead that there’s no moral ledger keeping track of deeds.

On the philosophical front, these ascetics likened existence to a chain of dominoes. Every moment carries within it the necessary conditions for what comes next. Since antecedents cannot be altered once they exist, true agency becomes a mirage. Events cascade from one cause to the next in an unbroken sequence, just as modern neuroscience—courting controversy in recent debates—finds neuronal firings preceding conscious decisions.

An early form of reductionism also came into play. Human beings, like all matter, consist of atoms bound by fixed laws. To Ajivikas, complexity doesn’t grant spontaneity; it merely disguises the machinery at work. And rather than shrug off this grim outlook, they embraced rigorous asceticism—detaching from worldly comforts to endure the path laid out by fate.

Fast-forward to today, and echoes of Ajivika determinism emerge in discussions around genetic engineering and AI. When DNA edits or algorithmic predictions seem to script our futures, the question resurfaces: is freedom just an illusion? The ancient debate lives on, proving that even a vanished tradition can cast a long shadow.