NEWSWEEK, July 1, 2002 Issue
Battle of the Greens
The military and radical Muslims square off once again in Indonesia, in a confrontation
with far-reaching consequences for the worldwide struggle against Islamic extremism
By Melinda Liu and Joe Cochrane NEWSWEEK INTERNATIONAL
July 1 issue — Indonesia has been viewed through a red lens lately—the red and white
of its flag, hoisted proudly over a resurgent democracy; the red of the blood spilled in
anger on several of its 17,000 islands. The country has twisted uneasily between
those poles ever since the fall of Suharto in 1998. The dictator's ouster unleashed a
whirlwind of pent-up civic forces—politicians, journalists, activists, artists. It also
released less appealing spirits, the jinns that have fueled communal riots in Ambon,
ethnic killings in Borneo, atrocities in East Timor.
INCREASINGLY, THOUGH, the battle for the soul of Indonesia looks to be painted in
shades of green—the flags of militant Islamists versus the camouflage of the Army.
"The government's weakness is breeding radicals," says Ulil Abshar-Abdalla, head of
a moderate Muslim group. That's true on both sides: without effective civilian
leadership, the debate over which kind of country Indonesia should be is slowly being
ceded to fire-breathing fundamentalists and their opponents in the military.
The two camps have been wary of each other since the early days of the Indonesian
republic. Now their relationship has taken on a critical significance. With more than 85
percent of its 215 million people professing some form of Islam, the archipelago is the
world's most populous Muslim nation. As during the Vietnam War—when the country
was seen as a key domino in the anti-communist fight—Washington believes
Indonesia occupies a pivotal place in the struggle against Islamic extremism. "If
Jakarta can pull off this democratic transition successfully, Indonesia will be a positive
role model for the world's Muslims," says U.S. Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul
Wolfowitz.
Of course, the picture of a spreading fundamentalism in Indonesia is distorted by the
magnifying glass of September 11. As the United States began to bomb Afghanistan,
a few spirited crowds rallied in front of the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta. Firebrands like
Laskar Jihad founder Jafar Umar Thalib denounced America, and other militants
launched recruitment drives for the Taliban. Those looking for radical madrasas found
one in the town of Solo, where a cleric named Abu Bakar Bashir is accused of leading
a terrorist ring that had cells in Malaysia, the Philippines and Singapore. (Even today
students at his Al Mukmin boarding school wear Osama bin Laden T shirts and insist
that Washington "has no proof" Al Qaeda was behind the September 11 attacks.) A
good deal of the Islamic militancy on display since last fall cannot be separated from
hype and a broader anti-Americanism.
Yet a more subtle shift is taking place as well. Since independence Indonesian
leaders have promoted a secular nationalism—not religion—as the only glue that can
hold together their far-flung and dazzlingly diverse country. For his three decades in
power, Suharto brutally enforced allegiance to the national mythology of pancasila
—the "five principles" of civility, national unity, democracy, social justice and belief in one
God. But Indonesia's post-Suharto presidents—the buffoonish B. J. Habibie and
Abdurrahman Wahid, the inscrutable Megawati Sukarnoputri—have proved a weak
bunch, more concerned with internal political squabbles than able to articulate a broad
new vision for Indonesia. Pancasila has lost its luster partly out of disgust with civilian
leaders and partly because it "rekindles memories of the bad old days of Suharto,"
says former Defense minister Juwono Sudarsono.
That has allowed other forces to push their own agendas, including, most recently,
fundamentalist Muslim groups that had typically not found much of an audience
among the country's open-minded faithful. In a survey conducted by the Center for
International Cooperation last December, 58 percent of respondents said they favored
the implementation of Sharia (Islamic law) throughout the country. Nearly three in four
supported making Indonesia an Islamic state, while 62 percent said that Islamic
fundamentalism was needed in a society that had grown immoral. A mild form of
Sharia is now practiced in the province of Aceh, and has been or is being introduced
in districts in Java, West Sumatra and Sulawesi. Some Muslim parties in Parliament
are pushing to reinstate a clause in the Constitution, known as the Jakarta Charter,
that calls for "Sharia law for religious followers."
Much of the new religiosity stems from a desire for order amid the apparent cha-os
spread by Suharto's downfall. When probed more closely, most Indonesians say they
do not approve of draconian punishments like stoning adulterers to death or
amputating the hands of thieves. Instead their embrace of religious law is a measure
of widespread dismay at the failure of civilian institutions. "The state apparatus is
weak, and the vacuum is filled by radical groups which are small but vocal," says
Ahmad Syafii Maarif, the chairman of Muhammadiyah, the country's second largest
moderate Muslim organization.
Groups like the Justice Party, which holds seven seats in Parliament, have begun to
provide social services in villages ignored by the central government. Others have
assigned to themselves more controversial tasks, like fighting crime. In some cities
and towns, vigilante justice is dispensed by Muslim radicals. The Java-based Islamic
Defenders' Front, which made a name for itself by trashing discos and hunting for
American guests at local hotels, claims to have performed at least 100 of its
"sweeps" since September 11—the latest a raid on a Chinese-owned warehouse found
to contain 8,000 bottles of alcohol. "It's obvious the owner was out to destroy national
morality," says Jafar Siddiq, who has led several such sweeps. "Since the police are
also fighting porn, prostitution, gambling, alcohol and drugs, they've been kind to us.
Our goals are the same."
Perhaps an even greater share of the popularity of radical Islam has to do with more
ephemeral issues of identity and self-esteem. Indonesians, says Sudarsono, are
seeking solace in religion "because of the trials and tribulations of economic
displacement. There's a fad with Islam." Indeed, Muslim symbology has become
downright trendy over the last year. Islamic music is newly popular. Muslim preachers
appear on TV with smartly produced, viewer-friendly sermons that sound like self-help
infomercials. Corporate managers have been flocking to something called the
"Emotional Spiritual Quotient Leadership Center," which provides Islam-based
management-training seminars.
Mainstream politicians have begun to take notice. Religiously defined candidates have
traditionally not done well in Indonesian elections. In 1999, the most prominent
Islamic parties—the PPP, led by Vice President Hamzah Haz, and the Crescent and
Star Party—took only 11 percent of the seats in Parliament; even the Justice Party,
which claims to have been the most successful new party in the 1999 polls, won only
1.4 percent of the vote. Yet Megawati and other secular leaders have been painfully
reluctant to criticize the more outspoken fundamentalists. Mega, says one Western
diplomat in Jakarta, is "not even reactive, much less proactive" when it comes to
taking on the Islamists. That has allowed figures like Haz, who is facing a leadership
challenge within his own party, to stake out extreme positions: in recent weeks he
has visited Laskar's Thalib in detention, and Bashir at his madrasa in Solo. ("I call on
the authorities to arrest me first before arresting them," says Haz.) Secular and
moderate Muslim parties still dominate Parliament. But, says former president Wahid,
"Muslim hard-liners are better recognized and better financed. They look like a threat."
Indonesia has been here before. In the mid-1900s, another period of rapid social
change and economic turmoil, various Islamic groups flourished in the anti-colonial
struggle against the Dutch. In the rocky early years after independence in 1949, when
Sukarno's scattershot rule helped fuel separatist movements across the archipelago,
a Pan-Islamic organization called Darul Islam, which envisaged an Islamic state
encompassing Indonesia and Malaysia, was ruthlessly suppressed by the Army.
Bashir was allegedly a member of the organization. The current Muslim revival, says
Sudarsono, represents a "cycle that repeats itself every 40 years or so."
What's most worrying this time is not the plethora of firebrands denouncing U.S.
imperialism; if he were alive, Sukarno would be Indonesia's most eloquent
anti-Western spokesman. Instead it's what these subtle changes say about where the
country is heading. Most Indonesians would call themselves Abangan Muslims, who
have fused a tolerant form of Islam with the beliefs of Buddhism, Hinduism and
Javanese mysticism. Those who espouse a stricter interpretation of the Qur'an are
increasingly drawn from a younger, well-educated, more tech-savvy generation. Amien
Rais, former head of Muhammadiyah, says that militant clerics "recruit followers from
campuses. Students in engineering and architecture are particularly vulnerable... They
want life to be exact, black and white." The Justice Party got its start in a Muslim
Internet forum, and most of its 300,000 members are between the ages of 20 and 35.
Many of these believers are too young to have taken part in the political system or
been indoctrinated in pancasila.
They are turning to Islam at a time when the religion seems better suited to
expressing their frustrations than a more inchoate nationalism.
The armed forces, on the other hand, are looking to turn back the clock. Top brass
argue that the Islamic threat demands an all-too-familiar degree of military
involvement. The generals "fear the new radical [Muslim] leaders coming up in the
next 10 to 20 years," says a senior active-duty officer. "I fear that nationalism is
becoming weaker because of missteps in building democracy in Indonesia. [It's gone]
too fast and too far." NEWSWEEK has learned that some officers have hatched a
secret plan to help rally moderate Muslim organizations to challenge Islamic militants.
Part of the strategy involves attracting international funding—U.S. officials have
reportedly been briefed on the plan—to open madrasas that will teach a more inclusive
form of Islam. The echoes of the military's Suharto-era sway over domestic politics are
clear and a bit chilling. "It should be the job of the government, not the armed forces,
to take the lead in this sort of thing," says one Western diplomat in Jakarta.
With Peter Janssen and Natasha Tampubolon in Jakarta
© 2002 Newsweek, Inc.
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