The Guardian
Religious persecution of the Ahmadiyah tarnish Indonesia's reputation as a bulwark of moderate, democratic Islam
, Friday 18 February 2011 08.00
Members of the Ahmadiyah pray before the biers bearing the bodies of fellow members, killed by a Muslim mob. Photograph: Nurani Nuutong/AFP/ Getty Images
The first week of February marked the annual celebration of World Interfaith Harmony Week, a UN resolution that aimed to promote religious and cultural understanding among people of different faiths. But proceedings were marred by the cruellest of events in Indonesia, with celebrations tarnished by a string of vicious attacks on the nation's religious minorities.
The most serious attack was waged against the Ahmadiyah sect in Banten, which resulted in three of its members being beaten to death at the hands of the Islamic Defenders Front, a hardline Islamic group. The history between the two has been fractious at best, but in recent times the conflict has assumed an internecine edge. Footage of the bloody attack in Banten on 6 February showed police officers providing an embarrassingly feeble match for a crowd of 1,500 villagers, equipped with machetes, rocks and bamboo sticks.
Ahmadiyah Muslims believe Mirza Ghulam Ahmad was Islam's last prophet, and as such find themselves at odds with the Islamic Defenders Front, which has repeatedly called upon local and provincial authorities to disband the sect, in addition to vandalising mosques and physically harassing members. The group even receives tacit encouragement from members of the Indonesian government, such as the federal religious affairs minister, who proposed that Ahmadiyah followers renounce their identification with Islam and refrain from using Islamic symbols.
Indonesia has undergone a remarkable transition after decades of repression under the Suharto regime. It can now claim a thriving democracy, a burgeoning civil society and record levels of economic growth to its name. It is touted as a bastion of a more moderate, democratic Islam; it has staked its nationhood on a mantra of "unity in diversity". But Indonesia remains plagued by vast economic inequalities, disenfranchised youth and porous borders: elements conducive to encouraging radicalism. Lately, there have been an increasing number of attacks on religious freedom spearheaded by hardline Islamic groups, who see themselves as the sole vanguard of morality amid the nation's anxious lurch towards modernity.
The attack in Banten is merely one in a string of attacks on Ahmadiyah Muslims, which has also included sect members being driven out of Lombok and vandalism of Ahmadiyah headquarters in Makassar and South Sulawesi. But Ahmadiyah followers are not the only target of extremists. Last week there were reports of vandalism and firebombing of Catholic schools and churches in Central Java, once again suspected to be the work of the Islamic Defenders Front. An Indonesian human rights group, the Setara Institute for Democracy and Peace, reported that 64 attacks on religious freedom - which include incidents of physical abuse, preventing groups from performing prayers and burning places of worship - took place in 2010, a sharp increase from 18 in 2009 and 17 in 2008.
As religious hate crimes blemish the archipelago' s moderate and tolerant image, the government faces pressure from human rights groups and disgruntled citizens to enshrine religious pluralism in law. International groups, such as Amnesty International, have declared that religious freedom in Indonesia is "in tatters", while peace rallies have been staged across the nation, urging the government to protect the right to religious freedom. And still, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono has been keen to trumpet Indonesia as a poster-child for unity amid diversity, emboldening a once-fractured nation by its embrace of religious, cultural and ethnic pluralism.
But in the aftermath of all the violence, his remarks ring hollow. While Yudhoyono has condemned the actions of those responsible for the killings in Banten, he also implored the Ahmadiyah community to "respect the joint [ministerial] agreement signed in 2008", which refers to a decree banning the sect from public worship and disseminating its beliefs. This decree, coupled with the decision of the Indonesian constitutional court to uphold a controversial law banning religious blasphemy, shows that religious pluralism in Indonesia is far from fully realised. Instead, it reveals that institutional sclerosis systemically undermines the very values that are an intrinsic part of Indonesia's national identity.
While these incidences of religious persecution may be specific to Indonesia, their implications are universal. Its struggles for democracy and pluralism are now being fought by other Muslim-majority nations such as Egypt and Tunisia. Clearly, the Indonesian narrative has much to teach the rest of the world: it challenges the misconception that moderate Islam and democracy are incompatible, and also shows that Muslim-majority nations are willing to embrace a more secular brand of nationalism. Of Indonesia's 250 million inhabitants, 86% are Muslims, yet presidents from secular political parties have repeatedly been elected to office.
Of course, Indonesia's transformation also highlights some inconvenient truths: that the road to progress is a rocky one, and that clashes between competing ideologies are inevitable. Nonetheless, it is how one resolves these clashes that is of greater significance. If the Indonesian government is serious about maintaining Indonesia's reputation as a bulwark of pluralism, democracy and moderate Islam, it must realise that its actions will speak much louder than its rhetoric.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Politics of religious knowledge
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Politics of religious knowledge
Ahmad Ali Khalid
The bitter truth for the liberals to concede is that ijtihad has been and can easily be used for conservative ends and conservative means. Thus, there needs to be a systematic exposition of the liberals' vision of ijtihad to counter any possible conservative assertions about it
In liberal circles of religious scholarship there is a contention that 'ijtihad' is the tool that will solve all our grapples and puzzles of establishing a suitable religiosity for our time, which accepts human rights, democracy, freedom and economic development.
Ijtihad is elevated from its formal place as a mere tool of legal reasoning restricted in the classical tradition to books of law, to that of an intellectual principle and a citadel of a rational religiosity. Ijtihad indeed forms part of the rationalist tradition of Islam and as such is the natural ally for reformists and liberals in the Muslim world. But ijtihad, which means intellectual exertion and in a technical sense juridical adjudication to solve legal problems, which have no precedent in the normative texts or in the jurists' corpus is not naturally a tool for liberals.
Ijtihad can also be illiberal and can also be disastrous; one can argue that the totally unprecedented phenomenon of violent extremism instigated by demagogues and ideologues is indeed ijtihad gone tragically wrong. If ijtihad is taken to mean that all Muslims can interpret their faith as they wish in accordance to what they see as new socio-political circumstances and new contexts, then we must be cautious. After all, conservatives and radicals can forward absolutely shocking and regressive opinions as ijtihad as much as a liberal can forward progressive and enlightened opinions as ijtihad. We need to avoid this anarchism and try and elaborate sensible parameters.
The determination of these parameters in terms of dealing with violent extremism will be easy as violent extremism and radicalism clearly are beyond the pale of Islam and clash with the fundamentals of Islam. The real argument is between the conservatives and liberals/reformists - a form of 'culture wars'.
The bitter truth for the liberals to concede is that ijtihad has been and can easily be used for conservative ends and conservative means. Thus, there needs to be a systematic exposition of the liberals' vision of ijtihad to counter any possible conservative assertions about it.
The one who does ijtihad is a mujtahid. Hence the question still remains: what ijtihad is, whose ijtihad is valid, who has the authority to carry it out, what are the qualifications of it, how can we institutionalise it and do we need to rethink the classical notions of ijtihad? Perhaps the most important question is: who has the right to carry out ijtihad? We need to answer these questions to reach a sensible consensus to distinguish between intellectual anarchy and truly enlightened understanding of religion. How do we establish a framework of determining whether a certain tendency of reasoning and deliberation of the religious sources is acceptable? Or do we simply rely on political convenience, and drag the religious discourse as the conservatives have towards a crass utilitarianism? In short, who speaks for the legal discourse in Islam, and how do classical notions of authority clash with the liberals' call for a comprehensive ijtihad?
These are all pressing questions. Prominent reformist intellectual Abdolkarim Soroush calls for an ijtihad on ijtihad itself. Many others say that the classical notions of ijtihad that the clergy have constructed as a purely legal notion to do with fiqh need to be abandoned. There needs to be a more expansive ijtihad, and if this is the case then the liberals and reformists have to quickly ground this new type of ijtihad on the normative texts of the faith. There are many other Muslim reformists and liberals grappling with these questions of modernity and reform. A discourse, which we can term as 'reformist Islam', is dealing frankly with these questions of change, modernity and reform.
Though there is agreement among liberals and progressive scholars on expanding the notion of ijtihad as a principle of intellectual change, the free exchange of ideas and encompassing fields other than law such as philosophy, theology and the social sciences. There can be an ijtihad in theology, Quranic hermeneutics, religious interpretation, usual al-fiqh - in short there can be total reconstruction of the Islamic tradition when put into critical conversation with other traditions and phenomena.
Hence liberals conceive ijtihad almost as a tool of intellectual liberation, freeing the believer from the shackles of retrograde traditionalism whilst appropriating the fundamentals of the faith with parts of the tradition that are deemed acceptable whilst putting the Islamic traditions in critical conversation with modernity. Ijtihad has become from being a humble legal tool to a way of thinking as a powerful idea for reform. Hence Ibn Rushd, Ibn Sina, the rationalism of the Mu'tazilites, to the powerful spirituality of Sufi poets can all be deemed as that quest for knowledge on the path of ijtihad. Furthermore, ijtihad is deemed as an evidence of Islam's inherent respect for the robust workings of human reason.
However, conservatives and traditionalists regard ijtihad as something far more mundane, a mere tool for solving unprecedented legal problems. Not even legal problems that have been pronounced on can be reconsidered by some traditionalists. Ijtihad is not a way of thinking; it is subsumed under a conservative and traditionalist framework and as such is subservient and thoroughly restricted by the parameters set up by the clergy and traditionalists. Conservative ijtihad is trapped by limits and penalties.The importance of ijtihad they can conceive is important. However, traditionalists argue that liberals are merely using ijtihad as a guise for harmful innovation (bid'ah). Hence the age-old debate in terms of distinguishing bid'ah from ijtihad, creativity from heresy has been re-ignited. This is a delicate debate. What is creativity and what is heresy? There has always been a fine line between heresy and creativity in Islam and trying to determine that line now is perhaps harder than ever.
Reconciling the issue of ijtihad is a much-needed resolution in the current Pakistani encounter with modernity. Whilst the ulema have erected socially constructed and restrictive parameters and contours on the question of ijtihad to guard their sphere of religious exclusivity, the liberals and progressives have never really come to grips with the issue of ijtihad in relation to multiple traditions in law, ethics and political thought in Islam and to that of modernity. When is ijtihad not valid and when is it heresy? When is it regressive and when is it progressive? When does it adhere to the spirit of Islam, and when does it violate it?
It is clear that the classical definition of ijtihad is too restrictive and does not take into account advances in human knowledge in other domains. Iqbal regarded ijtihad quite clearly as an intellectual attitude, calling it the principle movement in the structure in Islam. Pakistan is today grappling with extremism and needs progress on a political, economic and religious level.
The writer is a freelance columnist. He can be reached at ahmadalikhalid@ ymail.com
Politics of religious knowledge
Ahmad Ali Khalid
The bitter truth for the liberals to concede is that ijtihad has been and can easily be used for conservative ends and conservative means. Thus, there needs to be a systematic exposition of the liberals' vision of ijtihad to counter any possible conservative assertions about it
In liberal circles of religious scholarship there is a contention that 'ijtihad' is the tool that will solve all our grapples and puzzles of establishing a suitable religiosity for our time, which accepts human rights, democracy, freedom and economic development.
Ijtihad is elevated from its formal place as a mere tool of legal reasoning restricted in the classical tradition to books of law, to that of an intellectual principle and a citadel of a rational religiosity. Ijtihad indeed forms part of the rationalist tradition of Islam and as such is the natural ally for reformists and liberals in the Muslim world. But ijtihad, which means intellectual exertion and in a technical sense juridical adjudication to solve legal problems, which have no precedent in the normative texts or in the jurists' corpus is not naturally a tool for liberals.
Ijtihad can also be illiberal and can also be disastrous; one can argue that the totally unprecedented phenomenon of violent extremism instigated by demagogues and ideologues is indeed ijtihad gone tragically wrong. If ijtihad is taken to mean that all Muslims can interpret their faith as they wish in accordance to what they see as new socio-political circumstances and new contexts, then we must be cautious. After all, conservatives and radicals can forward absolutely shocking and regressive opinions as ijtihad as much as a liberal can forward progressive and enlightened opinions as ijtihad. We need to avoid this anarchism and try and elaborate sensible parameters.
The determination of these parameters in terms of dealing with violent extremism will be easy as violent extremism and radicalism clearly are beyond the pale of Islam and clash with the fundamentals of Islam. The real argument is between the conservatives and liberals/reformists - a form of 'culture wars'.
The bitter truth for the liberals to concede is that ijtihad has been and can easily be used for conservative ends and conservative means. Thus, there needs to be a systematic exposition of the liberals' vision of ijtihad to counter any possible conservative assertions about it.
The one who does ijtihad is a mujtahid. Hence the question still remains: what ijtihad is, whose ijtihad is valid, who has the authority to carry it out, what are the qualifications of it, how can we institutionalise it and do we need to rethink the classical notions of ijtihad? Perhaps the most important question is: who has the right to carry out ijtihad? We need to answer these questions to reach a sensible consensus to distinguish between intellectual anarchy and truly enlightened understanding of religion. How do we establish a framework of determining whether a certain tendency of reasoning and deliberation of the religious sources is acceptable? Or do we simply rely on political convenience, and drag the religious discourse as the conservatives have towards a crass utilitarianism? In short, who speaks for the legal discourse in Islam, and how do classical notions of authority clash with the liberals' call for a comprehensive ijtihad?
These are all pressing questions. Prominent reformist intellectual Abdolkarim Soroush calls for an ijtihad on ijtihad itself. Many others say that the classical notions of ijtihad that the clergy have constructed as a purely legal notion to do with fiqh need to be abandoned. There needs to be a more expansive ijtihad, and if this is the case then the liberals and reformists have to quickly ground this new type of ijtihad on the normative texts of the faith. There are many other Muslim reformists and liberals grappling with these questions of modernity and reform. A discourse, which we can term as 'reformist Islam', is dealing frankly with these questions of change, modernity and reform.
Though there is agreement among liberals and progressive scholars on expanding the notion of ijtihad as a principle of intellectual change, the free exchange of ideas and encompassing fields other than law such as philosophy, theology and the social sciences. There can be an ijtihad in theology, Quranic hermeneutics, religious interpretation, usual al-fiqh - in short there can be total reconstruction of the Islamic tradition when put into critical conversation with other traditions and phenomena.
Hence liberals conceive ijtihad almost as a tool of intellectual liberation, freeing the believer from the shackles of retrograde traditionalism whilst appropriating the fundamentals of the faith with parts of the tradition that are deemed acceptable whilst putting the Islamic traditions in critical conversation with modernity. Ijtihad has become from being a humble legal tool to a way of thinking as a powerful idea for reform. Hence Ibn Rushd, Ibn Sina, the rationalism of the Mu'tazilites, to the powerful spirituality of Sufi poets can all be deemed as that quest for knowledge on the path of ijtihad. Furthermore, ijtihad is deemed as an evidence of Islam's inherent respect for the robust workings of human reason.
However, conservatives and traditionalists regard ijtihad as something far more mundane, a mere tool for solving unprecedented legal problems. Not even legal problems that have been pronounced on can be reconsidered by some traditionalists. Ijtihad is not a way of thinking; it is subsumed under a conservative and traditionalist framework and as such is subservient and thoroughly restricted by the parameters set up by the clergy and traditionalists. Conservative ijtihad is trapped by limits and penalties.The importance of ijtihad they can conceive is important. However, traditionalists argue that liberals are merely using ijtihad as a guise for harmful innovation (bid'ah). Hence the age-old debate in terms of distinguishing bid'ah from ijtihad, creativity from heresy has been re-ignited. This is a delicate debate. What is creativity and what is heresy? There has always been a fine line between heresy and creativity in Islam and trying to determine that line now is perhaps harder than ever.
Reconciling the issue of ijtihad is a much-needed resolution in the current Pakistani encounter with modernity. Whilst the ulema have erected socially constructed and restrictive parameters and contours on the question of ijtihad to guard their sphere of religious exclusivity, the liberals and progressives have never really come to grips with the issue of ijtihad in relation to multiple traditions in law, ethics and political thought in Islam and to that of modernity. When is ijtihad not valid and when is it heresy? When is it regressive and when is it progressive? When does it adhere to the spirit of Islam, and when does it violate it?
It is clear that the classical definition of ijtihad is too restrictive and does not take into account advances in human knowledge in other domains. Iqbal regarded ijtihad quite clearly as an intellectual attitude, calling it the principle movement in the structure in Islam. Pakistan is today grappling with extremism and needs progress on a political, economic and religious level.
The writer is a freelance columnist. He can be reached at ahmadalikhalid@ ymail.com
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Churches destroyed after blasphemy sentence handed down
From Kathy Quiano, CNNFebruary 10, 2011 1:30 p.m. EST
Jakarta, Indonesia (CNN) -- Three Christian churches in Indonesia were destroyed by an angry mob during clashes with police Tuesday that erupted after a local court handed down a verdict against a Christian man accused of blasphemy against Islam, authorities said.
The man was given a five-year sentence, said national police spokesman Col. Boy Rafli Amar, but the protesters wanted him to face a stiffer penalty.
The destroyed churches were in Temanggung, Central Java, Amar said. "The scene is now under police control," he said. "It's calm but security is high."
Security personnel are searching for those responsible for the attack on the churches, and authorities are "asking local religious leaders to stay calm and find diplomatic ways to solve the problem."
The attacks were the second violent incident against minority religious groups in Indonesia in the past three days. On Sunday, a mob of about 1,000 people, wielding knives and stones, attacked about 25 members of the Muslim minority sect, Ahmadiyah, in Cikeusik village in West Java's Banten province. Three people were killed and six others injured. The crowd opposed the presence of the Ahmadiyah in the village and demanded the group stop its activities.
Indonesia's minority religions targeted RELATED TOPICS
Indonesian Politics
Central Java
Islam
Police
Amateur video of the incident obtained by Human Rights Watch showed people pummeling what looked like lifeless bodies with sticks and rocks. The video has been posted on the internet, fueling public outrage.
In a televised statement Monday, Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono condemned the violence against Ahmadiyah and ordered a thorough investigation. Human rights activists, however, are calling for the government to revoke a ministerial decree issued in 2008 that bans the community's religious activities.
"How many Ahmadiyah have to die at the hands of mobs before the police step in?" said Elaine Pearson, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch. "The Indonesian government should end this wave of hate crimes and immediately revoke the 2008 anti-Ahmadiyah decree, which encourages these vicious attacks."
The Setara Institute for Peace and Democracy, a local think tank, noted in a recent report a marked increase in the number of attacks against Ahmadiyah and other minority religions in Indonesia in recent years.
The most populous Muslim country in the world, Indonesia has previously been touted as an example of tolerance and democracy in the Islamic world. But a 2009 study from the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life in Washington suggested it was actually among the most restrictive countries when it comes to religion.
Jakarta, Indonesia (CNN) -- Three Christian churches in Indonesia were destroyed by an angry mob during clashes with police Tuesday that erupted after a local court handed down a verdict against a Christian man accused of blasphemy against Islam, authorities said.
The man was given a five-year sentence, said national police spokesman Col. Boy Rafli Amar, but the protesters wanted him to face a stiffer penalty.
The destroyed churches were in Temanggung, Central Java, Amar said. "The scene is now under police control," he said. "It's calm but security is high."
Security personnel are searching for those responsible for the attack on the churches, and authorities are "asking local religious leaders to stay calm and find diplomatic ways to solve the problem."
The attacks were the second violent incident against minority religious groups in Indonesia in the past three days. On Sunday, a mob of about 1,000 people, wielding knives and stones, attacked about 25 members of the Muslim minority sect, Ahmadiyah, in Cikeusik village in West Java's Banten province. Three people were killed and six others injured. The crowd opposed the presence of the Ahmadiyah in the village and demanded the group stop its activities.
Indonesia's minority religions targeted RELATED TOPICS
Indonesian Politics
Central Java
Islam
Police
Amateur video of the incident obtained by Human Rights Watch showed people pummeling what looked like lifeless bodies with sticks and rocks. The video has been posted on the internet, fueling public outrage.
In a televised statement Monday, Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono condemned the violence against Ahmadiyah and ordered a thorough investigation. Human rights activists, however, are calling for the government to revoke a ministerial decree issued in 2008 that bans the community's religious activities.
"How many Ahmadiyah have to die at the hands of mobs before the police step in?" said Elaine Pearson, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch. "The Indonesian government should end this wave of hate crimes and immediately revoke the 2008 anti-Ahmadiyah decree, which encourages these vicious attacks."
The Setara Institute for Peace and Democracy, a local think tank, noted in a recent report a marked increase in the number of attacks against Ahmadiyah and other minority religions in Indonesia in recent years.
The most populous Muslim country in the world, Indonesia has previously been touted as an example of tolerance and democracy in the Islamic world. But a 2009 study from the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life in Washington suggested it was actually among the most restrictive countries when it comes to religion.
The Great Divider: Religion at Odds With Four Other Principles of Pancasila
The Great Divider: Religion at Odds With Four Other Principles of Pancasila
Johannes Nugroho | February 08, 2011
When Sukarno presented the five principles of Pancasila, heated arguments erupted, especially concerning the article about divinity, which later became "belief in the one and only God." At first, Sukarno formulated this article almost as an afterthought - it was originally "ketuhanan yang berkebudayaan" (divinity based on cultural traditions), and as the last, not the first article of Pancasila.
The deadly Banten clash between right-wing Muslims and followers of the Ahmadiyah sect may have shocked many, yet in light of what had been brewing between the two groups, it should come as little surprise. It serves as further evidence, in a country where obtaining an ID card or opening a new bank account requires stating your religious affiliation, that Indonesia is a nation unhealthily obsessed with religions.
This obsession goes back a long way, at least five centuries ago, when the Majapahit empire crumbled in the face of resurgent Islamic kingdoms.
The religious conflict escalated as the fight for Java's soul continued into the 16th century with the older Shiva-Buddha followers either converting to Islam or retreating into the last bastion of Majapahit, the island of Bali.
It must have been such a chaotic time that everyone seemed to be caught off guard when European nations, bent on colonialism, suddenly appeared on the horizon.
The various new Islamic kingdoms, failing to maintain the unity that Majapahit had before them, one by one capitulated to the Portuguese and then the Dutch.
As the powers of the Islamic aristocracy waned, the religious obsession continued unabated well into the Dutch colonial days, especially as the religious factions found a new common enemy in European-educated Marxist intellectuals such as Tan Malaka.
It was then when the first modern Indonesian political landscape was formed, a marshland divided between nationalist, Islamic and communist groups.
Before the declaration of independence, the flame of discord reignited when our founding fathers discussed what were to be the nation's guiding principles.
When Sukarno presented the five principles of Pancasila, heated arguments erupted, especially concerning the article about divinity, which later became "belief in the one and only God."
At first, Sukarno formulated this article almost as an afterthought - it was originally "ketuhanan yang berkebudayaan" (divinity based on cultural traditions), and as the last, not the first article of Pancasila.
Faced with pious protests from the religious factions, the last article in the end became the first, but not before its wording became another source of bickering.
The Islamic faction at first demanded that the article contain an injunction for Muslim Indonesians to adhere to Shariah law but the others objected.
The word Allah was rejected by the Hindus because of its bias toward Semitic religions, and hence dropped in favor of the more native word of "tuhan." The Muslims, as even voiced by today's right-wing Islamic groups, have resented this ever since.
In complete non-repentance, further wrangling occurred when it was time to design the country's Coat of Arms.
Sultan Hamid II of Pontianak first submitted the Garuda Yaksa, an ancient native symbol of a Vishnu-incarnate king, to the consternation of the Islamic faction which rose up in arms, claiming that the symbol was too mythological and biased toward Hinduism.
In the end, a compromise was patched and the current design of Garuda Pancasila took shape.
The "divinity" article of Pancasila, represented by a five-pointed star, took central position in the center of the shield on the eagle's chest, superimposed on the other four.
During his presidency, Sukarno also had to juggle the potentially explosive fireballs of religion.
Caught between secularism and religious fervor of the populace, he even tried a compromise when he expounded his Nasakom (Nationalist, Religious and Communist) doctrine, again emphasizing the need for the three major forces to work together for the benefit of the nation.
But it was not to be.
The 1965 Communist purge - or coup, depending on one's point of view - saw the bloody persecution of communists, socialists and other secularists by religious groups.
We may now see Nahdlatul Ulama as a moderate Islamic force but back in 1965 several organizations under NU such as its youth wing Ansor, took part in the purge.
Some one million Indonesians lost their lives. President Suharto probably realized the extent of destructive power religion could unleash, and decided to regulate it.
Enforcing Pancasila with rigor, he suppressed hard-line Islamic groups with determination unmatched so far by today's administration.
When Reformasi swept Suharto from power in 1998, the aftermath was predictable.
It was as if, after being silenced for more than three decades, all the pent-up forces of Islamic right-wingers rematerialized with a vengeance.
It is thus ironic that our democracy has made the reincarnation of such an anti-democratic group possible.
Henceforth, it has sought to redefine Indonesia, aided by successive governments eager to avoid offending the Muslim constituents.
Since Reformasi, we have seen more and more Indonesian women take up the jilbab (headscarf).
We have seen acts of terrorism committed in the name of religion. The entertainment industry has to fake non-existence during Ramadan just to please the whims of the fanatical.
Pancasila, our final vanguard against religious extremism, is on its last legs. Perhaps, six decades ago, when our founding fathers decided to superimpose the religious star on the other four symbols on the Garuda shield, they unwittingly sealed our fate.
The move has proved to be sadly prophetic.
As the country's history shows from time to time, religious matters continue to override other issues.
Religion has turned out to be a force of fragmentation, as well as obstruction against our own desire to realize the other four fundamental principles: Just and Civilized Humanity, Unity, Democracy and Social Justice.
Johannes Nugroho is a writer based in Surabaya
Johannes Nugroho | February 08, 2011
When Sukarno presented the five principles of Pancasila, heated arguments erupted, especially concerning the article about divinity, which later became "belief in the one and only God." At first, Sukarno formulated this article almost as an afterthought - it was originally "ketuhanan yang berkebudayaan" (divinity based on cultural traditions), and as the last, not the first article of Pancasila.
The deadly Banten clash between right-wing Muslims and followers of the Ahmadiyah sect may have shocked many, yet in light of what had been brewing between the two groups, it should come as little surprise. It serves as further evidence, in a country where obtaining an ID card or opening a new bank account requires stating your religious affiliation, that Indonesia is a nation unhealthily obsessed with religions.
This obsession goes back a long way, at least five centuries ago, when the Majapahit empire crumbled in the face of resurgent Islamic kingdoms.
The religious conflict escalated as the fight for Java's soul continued into the 16th century with the older Shiva-Buddha followers either converting to Islam or retreating into the last bastion of Majapahit, the island of Bali.
It must have been such a chaotic time that everyone seemed to be caught off guard when European nations, bent on colonialism, suddenly appeared on the horizon.
The various new Islamic kingdoms, failing to maintain the unity that Majapahit had before them, one by one capitulated to the Portuguese and then the Dutch.
As the powers of the Islamic aristocracy waned, the religious obsession continued unabated well into the Dutch colonial days, especially as the religious factions found a new common enemy in European-educated Marxist intellectuals such as Tan Malaka.
It was then when the first modern Indonesian political landscape was formed, a marshland divided between nationalist, Islamic and communist groups.
Before the declaration of independence, the flame of discord reignited when our founding fathers discussed what were to be the nation's guiding principles.
When Sukarno presented the five principles of Pancasila, heated arguments erupted, especially concerning the article about divinity, which later became "belief in the one and only God."
At first, Sukarno formulated this article almost as an afterthought - it was originally "ketuhanan yang berkebudayaan" (divinity based on cultural traditions), and as the last, not the first article of Pancasila.
Faced with pious protests from the religious factions, the last article in the end became the first, but not before its wording became another source of bickering.
The Islamic faction at first demanded that the article contain an injunction for Muslim Indonesians to adhere to Shariah law but the others objected.
The word Allah was rejected by the Hindus because of its bias toward Semitic religions, and hence dropped in favor of the more native word of "tuhan." The Muslims, as even voiced by today's right-wing Islamic groups, have resented this ever since.
In complete non-repentance, further wrangling occurred when it was time to design the country's Coat of Arms.
Sultan Hamid II of Pontianak first submitted the Garuda Yaksa, an ancient native symbol of a Vishnu-incarnate king, to the consternation of the Islamic faction which rose up in arms, claiming that the symbol was too mythological and biased toward Hinduism.
In the end, a compromise was patched and the current design of Garuda Pancasila took shape.
The "divinity" article of Pancasila, represented by a five-pointed star, took central position in the center of the shield on the eagle's chest, superimposed on the other four.
During his presidency, Sukarno also had to juggle the potentially explosive fireballs of religion.
Caught between secularism and religious fervor of the populace, he even tried a compromise when he expounded his Nasakom (Nationalist, Religious and Communist) doctrine, again emphasizing the need for the three major forces to work together for the benefit of the nation.
But it was not to be.
The 1965 Communist purge - or coup, depending on one's point of view - saw the bloody persecution of communists, socialists and other secularists by religious groups.
We may now see Nahdlatul Ulama as a moderate Islamic force but back in 1965 several organizations under NU such as its youth wing Ansor, took part in the purge.
Some one million Indonesians lost their lives. President Suharto probably realized the extent of destructive power religion could unleash, and decided to regulate it.
Enforcing Pancasila with rigor, he suppressed hard-line Islamic groups with determination unmatched so far by today's administration.
When Reformasi swept Suharto from power in 1998, the aftermath was predictable.
It was as if, after being silenced for more than three decades, all the pent-up forces of Islamic right-wingers rematerialized with a vengeance.
It is thus ironic that our democracy has made the reincarnation of such an anti-democratic group possible.
Henceforth, it has sought to redefine Indonesia, aided by successive governments eager to avoid offending the Muslim constituents.
Since Reformasi, we have seen more and more Indonesian women take up the jilbab (headscarf).
We have seen acts of terrorism committed in the name of religion. The entertainment industry has to fake non-existence during Ramadan just to please the whims of the fanatical.
Pancasila, our final vanguard against religious extremism, is on its last legs. Perhaps, six decades ago, when our founding fathers decided to superimpose the religious star on the other four symbols on the Garuda shield, they unwittingly sealed our fate.
The move has proved to be sadly prophetic.
As the country's history shows from time to time, religious matters continue to override other issues.
Religion has turned out to be a force of fragmentation, as well as obstruction against our own desire to realize the other four fundamental principles: Just and Civilized Humanity, Unity, Democracy and Social Justice.
Johannes Nugroho is a writer based in Surabaya
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