Introduction

Nine years ago, I remember sharing on my now-deleted Facebook account a post about 9 Inspiring Muslim Men That Ruled 2016. I did not realise it then until a friend called me out—I just wanted to make it on that list someday.

It is 2026 now, and I am still nowhere near that index. When you have reached your 30s, as fellow millennials might have also experienced, sometimes you wonder whether you have wasted your 20s sleepwalking through life and falling into irrelevance.

However, a recent once-in-a-generation phenomenon has forced me to scrutinise my life and reignited my drive to achieve more as a Muslim man. I wholly blame Zohran Mamdani and his meteoric rise for inducing this life crisis in my head.

But first, a context: I do not usually compare myself to others (especially other men) after getting off most social media platforms in 2023. Moreover, I also do not really have a fixed male role model, contrary to what my friends and acquaintances might think.

These only inflated Mamdani’s impact when he first became known to me. He has become the new face of a major political party, won political contests against big money and establishments, and been elected mayor in the United States’ largest city. He achieved all these while being unabashedly progressive and unashamedly Muslim.

At 34, he has achieved what most people could only conceive as their final fantasy. Compared to that, I, a 33-year-old man, waste my time these days playing Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. If you do not follow, the in-game’s bizarre logic dictates that I will not have a future in fame and glory, as I will be erased from existence before turning 34 (gommaged). Oh, the irony!

Mamdani’s incredible success has led me to ask anyone who would listen to me why I cannot be like him in Makassar. Indeed, if we stretch this wider, why is it that Muslim-majority countries like Indonesia and Malaysia have not seen any individual lately as groundbreaking as he is?

Problematic Men

The adoption of Mamdani as a role model could perhaps be explained as my way of responding to a larger problem of which I am also a part: the global masculinity crisis. In essence, this is a chronic situation whereby dramatic structural and societal changes in the last few decades have led men to feel that they are losing direction and relevance in life.

Books such as Of Boys and Men and Notes on Being a Man explore this topic further and discuss its consequences at great length. In short, some of the challenges facing men today include academic underachievement, economic irrelevance, cultural obsolescence, adoption of online misogyny and the lack of role models.

The authors of both books agree that the presence of a male role model is one of the guardrails preventing men from succumbing to the problems often associated with being male these days. Dina Zaman’s famous article contextualises this discussion in a Malaysian setting and gives a few examples. However, if you still wonder how masculinity crisis usually manifests, it ranges from engagement in toxic masculinity attitudes, subscription to rabid online manosphere, development of severe mental health problems, being emotionally unavailable to adoption of questionable behaviours, such as gaslighting and ghosting.

It is no wonder, then, that “cowok red flag” (red flag boys) is a common topic in Indonesia’s dating-speak today, at least among my circles.

Role Model

My fascination towards Mamdani is multi-layered. First, by achieving something incredible, he is showing an example to all men out there that we need not be defined by this global crisis and can still succeed under this climate.

His privileges, including high education, a stable family and a supporting wife, only emphasise why men need to keep engaged with something bigger – be it positive institutions or the society – to be able to create “surplus value” for the people around him. I doubt Mamdani would have attained such a magnitude if he subscribed to the popular toxic ideologies of “lone wolf-ism” and “sigma male-ism”.

Second, Mamdani’s political success did not require him to keep his identity as a Muslim in the closet. When one belongs to a minority group in a society, oftentimes there is a societal pressure (or even expectation) to repress his identity or diminish her principles. All for approval and acceptance, to the point where it could feel like someone has to apologise for professing the Islamic faith, in the Muslim context.

Mamdani reversed this. His campaign trail, victory speech and inauguration all exemplify a tremendous confidence in his religious belief and refusal to apologise for his Muslimness. His presence in the political domain is a welcome change, especially after trends in the past few decades to approach Muslims from a security lens (I used to research counter-violent extremism). His example is also a call for everyone to reach a common point of understanding, less by asking Muslims to explain themselves and more by demanding others try to understand Muslims with all their multifaceted experiences and backgrounds.

Some might see the problem in my thinking. We are already living in Muslim-majority countries like Indonesia and Malaysia, so don’t we already have the space and opportunity to showcase our Muslim pride?

This is where Mamdani’s progressiveness adds depth and complexity to his Muslim identity. He embraces many groups and issues that the more conservative streams of the faith would not approach with a ten-foot pole: socialism and LGBT, among others. A deeper discussion on his contrarian views falls outside the scope of this write-up; however, it is fascinating how he can both claim his faith while at the same time also challenge the views of most of his co-religionists, often in the same breath. That requires a tremendous amount of courage, self-conviction and security with one’s faith.

I wonder if, in a way, he has validated an emerging trend among Indonesian millennials and Gen Z whereby faith is being reinterpreted and realigned to match personal values, emotional needs, and daily experiences. My biggest curiosity at this point is if he has experienced a degree of internal conflict as he balances between the Islamic faith and his political convictions, but I would leave this to the psychologists and philosophers out there. This, however, has not alienated him from Muslim New Yorkers, some of whom expressed their joy at seeing a Muslim inst

Some may call this a contradiction. I call it on-the-ground realities. Personally, I am something of a non-conformist myself, often questioning the establishments and wondering why the majority subscribe to the same conventions.

Mamdani somewhat fits this bill when he demonstrates his paradox—a Muslim with contrarian views. But beyond my private convictions, he has successfully proven to the world that Muslims are more than just the one-dimensional image that the West has painted in the past few decades (i.e. backward and a security risk). This only reinforces the narrative that Muslims are just as complex, as grounded and as human as the rest of the people on the planet.

Mamdani has inspired me to achieve more as a Muslim and stand for what I believe in, even if it means ruffling some feathers sometimes.

Identity over Substance?

Mainstream as well as social media in both Malaysia and Indonesia erupted with a rare euphoria that more often than not highlights Mamdani’s Muslim background.

Such an excitement, nevertheless, has invited a degree of scepticism from some observers for what they call the people’s obsession with identity over substance.

To a large extent, this kind of criticism holds true. Southeast Asian political culture often emphasises personal identity, background and leadership style over ideology and policy. The fascination towards Mamdani’s Islamic faith, for instance, is not coupled with a similar degree of attention to his policies, which include rent freezes, universal childcare, free city buses and others.

If scrutiny over local politicians’ politics and policies is already at a bare minimum, it is unlikely that the people here would also give a second look at the programmes of a politician in a far-off place.

Even more problematic is the fact that this attention to Mamdani’s identity appears to be selective. Mamdani is a follower of Twelver Shi’ism, which should send many Muslims in Southeast Asia, who are followers of Sunni Islam, to an anxious state of mind. However, this fact did not get as many mentions. He is also a socialist, which to some people is worse, considering how leftist politics often gets associated with atheism still.

His more controversial positions, such as support towards the LGBT group, do complicate the reception towards him. However, this is not usually followed by a more in-depth discussion about various Muslim beliefs and identity, as it often quickly devolves into a binary discourse of whether Mamdani is Muslim or not. A trainer in my gym, for instance, both celebrated and deplored Mamdani within 10 seconds for this reason.

This presents an interesting facet of identity politics here, whereby individuals generally only pay attention to certain identities of a politician but not others. Clearly a new research question for those who are interested to explore this topic further.

Validating the Celebration

Nevertheless, such criticism ignores the people’s psyche as to why there is so much celebration over Mamdani’s election as New York City’s first Muslim mayor. I am offering a few takes as to why Muslims in this region are obsessed with Mamdani’s faith.

Firstly, there is a (perceived) shortage of inspirational Muslim figures today. A quick Google search or Gemini prompt for Muslim role models in Indonesia, for instance, usually yields examples that lean heavily towards certain categories, such as religious clerics, businessmen or historical figures. There is also a lack of a poll or survey detailing which Muslim figures are venerated in the region.

There are, of course, notable Muslims today who also inspire others. My Gemini offered a few names that include sportsmen (Mo Salah, Khabib Nurmagomedov), entertainers (Riz Ahmed, Ramy Youssef), religious leaders (Husein Ja’far Al Hadar, Ustadz Adi Hidayat) and politicians (Anwar Ibrahim, Anies Baswedan), among others.

However, there are no statistics detailing how many people are idolising such names or if they have motivated others as role models. My social circles are also dry; we do not really discuss inspirational Muslim figures. Meanwhile, social media continue to glorify the usual suspects, such as Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Rafi Ahmad or Atta Halilintar, ostensibly for their financial achievements or virality.

I am also guilty—it was really difficult to think of names even after a hard consideration. Only a few names popped up: J Robert Oppenheimer of the nuclear bomb or the fictional Hawke from the Dragon Age series.

Mamdani’s rise, thus, becomes relevant here. His achievements are one thing, but he also motivates other Muslims to be proud of who they are and what they believe in. He shows that one can be an exemplary model without having to be heavy-handed with religion, instead marrying religious obligations with the lived realities that Muslims experience. This ensures that he is accessible to a wide array of Muslims from different backgrounds.

Secondly, the impact of decades of Muslim securitisation. For so long, thanks to policies like the Global War on Terror, many Muslims have been led to believe that there is something inherently wrong with professing the faith. Instead of pursuing the ultimate truth through intellectual curiosity, a critical mind and an open heart, Muslims have been encouraged to approach religion with suspicion, fear, and insecurity. The growth of radical extremism certainly did not help, compelling Muslims to view the world through a lens of fire and hatred. To put a cherry on top, the sizeable Islamophobia industry further bolsters a global atmosphere that seeks to suppress Muslim identity and expression.

As competing actors dictate the “correct version of Islam”, the space for many Muslims to pursue and arrive at their spiritual truth organically becomes limited. Such actors offer discourses that are often embarrassingly ignorant of the vast Islamic history, worldview and values, creating a reductionist view of Islam that disrespects the agency of Muslims who are simply yearning for their God. Many have fallen into the fissures of both extremes – becoming radical Muslims or committing apostasy – while others may struggle to grow a sincere pride in the faith.

As touched on above, Mamdani challenged this trend, assuring Muslims worldwide that they do not have to apologise for embracing Islam or justify their faith to others. Whether one practices diligently or not is a separate question (Mamdani’s religious practice is something of an internet conundrum as well)—the point is, Muslims should be able

Thirdly, the euphoria bloomed against the backdrop of prevailing mindsets of many Muslims in Southeast Asia. These include ghazwul fikr (invasion of ideas), or the massive Westernisation of popular culture in Southeast Asia, and the siege mentality that perceives the West as an oppressor aiming to eliminate Islam, among others. Perspectives such as these cause many Muslims to y

Being a product of Islamic education institutions almost all my life (which means I was always in the company of committed Muslims), perspectives like these were a constant leitmotif, particularly in the 2000s, when the full force of globalisation began to mould life here in Indonesia. Even today, their expressions continue to manifest in various discussions about the Muslim world, usually coupled with discussions on the failure of Muslims to reclaim the Islamic renaissance that marks the zenith of this civilisation.

Mamdani’s win, thus, presented a refreshing break against this gloomy mood. A Muslim now presides as mayor at the United States’ capitalist and liberal heart, projecting a glimmer of hope towards the rise of Islam and – in the more binary mindset of some people – its (eventual) victory against the West. Mamdani’s anti-genocide stance further reinforces his credence among the audience that he is here to fight for the oppressed Palestinians.

These are just some perceptions that need to be considered to understand why Southeast Asian Muslims celebrated Mamdani’s win, with a special emphasis on his faith. This did not occur in a vacuum—the attention to his (selected) identity is the outcome of decades of history and experiences of what being a Muslim is here.

If there is one lesson that we could learn from this debate, it is that there is an imperative to understand Muslims for who they are truly: their rituals, mindsets, histories, experiences, practices and, oxymoronically, faiths.

Mamdani’s opponents and detractors only saw him as a member of a minority group and a potential security threat. They ignored his education, history, family values and connection to the society, as if any Muslim is devoid of all these things that make him/her a human. Of course other Muslims cheered when he won.

Conclusion

Mamdani might have inspired people like me and others in Southeast Asia, but it is unlikely that we will bloom into someone as revolutionary and impactful as he is soon.

To be a Mamdani is to be someone who does not shy away from sitting on the opposite side of other people, including other Muslims. In Southeast Asia’s conservative sphere, the opportunity to do this is restricted. Furthermore, it takes a great deal to grow confidence in one’s ideals and principles—going out of the mainstream way, to stand for what you believe in, means you are likely to be cast as an individualistic person, which is often scorned here. You need quality education, a robust support system and humility to negotiate with the masses to navigate the opposition that comes in your way.

Forget the masses; many men do not even know what they want and what they are doing in life. Sadly, I have come across many men who are struggling with these questions lately, with various manifest consequences. Maybe they are also Mamdanis deep down but are significantly affected by the global masculinity crisis. In other words, the cards may be stacked up against us. For now, however, I am just glad I finally have someone that I can relate and look up to.

Artikel ini diterjemahkan dari versi Bahasa Inggris menggunakan Goog

Pendahuluan

Sembilan tahun lalu, saya ingat pernah membagikan sebuah unggahan di akun Facebook yang kini sudah dihapus tentang 9 Pria Muslim Inspiratif yang Berjaya di Tahun 2016. Saya tidak menyadarinya sampai seorang teman menegur saya—bahwa saya hanya ingin masuk ke dalam daftar itu suatu hari nanti.

Sekarang sudah tahun 2026, dan saya masih jauh dari daftar tersebut. Ketika Anda mencapai usi

Namun, sebuah fenomena langka baru-baru ini telah memaksa saya untuk mencermati hidup dan menyalakan kembali semangat untuk meraih lebih banyak hal sebagai seorang pria Muslim. Saya sepenuhnya menyalahkan Zohran Mamdani dan keberhasilannya yang telah memicu krisis kehidupan dalam kepala saya.

Izinkan saya menyediakan sebuah konteks di awal: Saya biasanya tidak membandingkan diri saya dengan orang lain (terutama pria lain) setelah menghapus sebagian besar platform media sosial pada tahun 2023. Selain itu, teman-teman saya mungkin juga terkejut bahwa saya sebenarnya tidak memiliki sosok teladan pria.

Hal-hal inilah yang justru menambah impak Mamdani ketika saya pertama kali mengikuti gerak-geriknya. Dia telah menjadi wajah baru dari sebuah partai politik besar, memenangkan kontestasi politik melawan elit politik dan pendukungnya yang mapan, serta terpilih sebagai wali kota di kota terbesar di Amerika Serikat. Ia meraih semua itu tanpa menanggalkan statusnya sebagai sosok progresif yang lantang dan Muslim yang bangga dengan imannya.

Di usia 34 tahun, ia telah mencapai apa yang hanya bisa dibayangkan kebanyakan orang sebagai puncak fantasi mereka. Dibandingkan dengan itu, saya, seorang pria berusia 33 tahun, menghabiskan waktu belakangan ini dengan bermain Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. Bagi Anda yang ti

Kesuksesan luar biasa Mamdani membuat saya bertanya kepada siapa pun yang mau mendengarkan: mengapa saya tidak bisa menjadi seperti dia di Makassar? Kalau pertanyaannya kita tarik lebih luas, mengapa negara-negara mayor

Pria-Pria Bermasalah

Menjadikan Mamdani sebagai sosok teladan mungkin bisa dijelaskan sebagai sebuah respons pribadi terhadap masalah besar yang juga menimpa diri saya: krisis maskulinitas global. Intinya, krisis ini adalah situasi kronis di mana perubahan struktural dan sosial yang drastis dalam beberapa dekade terakhir telah membuat para pria merasa kehilangan arah dan relevansi dalam hidup.

Buku-buku seperti Of Boys and Men dan Notes on Being a Man menelaah topik ini lebih jauh dan membahas konsekuensinya secara panjang lebar. Singkatnya, beberapa tantangan yang banyak dihadapi pria-pria saat ini termasuk prestasi akademik yang rendah, keterpinggiran ekonomi, keusangan fungsi budaya, adopsi misogini daring dan kurangnya sosok teladan.

Penulis kedua buku tersebut sepakat bahwa kehadiran sosok teladan pria adalah salah satu pagar pembatas yang mencegah para pria terjerumus ke dalam masalah-masalah yang sering dikaitkan dengan laki-laki pada era ini. Artikel dari Dina Zaman membumikan diskusi ini dalam konteks Malaysia dan juga memberikan beberapa contoh. Namun, jika Anda masih bertanya-tanya bagaimana krisis maskulinitas biasanya hadir di tengah-tengah kita, Anda mungkin sudah pernah terkena dampaknya akhir-akhir in, sadar atau tidak. Mulai dari keterlibatan dalam sikap kejantanan yang merusak, fanatisme terhadap dunia manosphere daring, perkembangan masalah kesehatan mental yang parah, ketidakhadiran secara emosional (emotionally unavailable), hingga timbulnya perilaku bermasalah seperti manipulasi psikologis (gaslighting) dan pengabaian sepihak (ghosting).

Makanya, tidak heran jika istilah “cowok red flag” menjadi topik umum dalam percakapan dunia kencan di Indonesia saat ini, setidaknya di lingkaran pertemanan saya.

Sosok Teladan

Ketertarikan saya terhadap Mamdani terdiri dari berbagai lapisan. Pertama, dengan mencapai sesuatu yang luar biasa, ia menjadi contoh kepada para pria lain bahwa kita masih tetap bisa sukses walaupun terkena dampak krisis ini.

Faktor-faktor keistimewaan yang ia miliki, termasuk pendidikan tinggi, keluarga yang stabil dan istri yang suportif, justru menegaskan mengapa pria perlu terus terlibat dengan sesuatu yang lebih besar dari dirinya sendiri – baik itu institusi yang positif maupun masyarakat – agar mampu menciptakan “nilai tambah” bagi orang-orang di sekitarnya. Saya ragu Mamdani akan seberhasil ini jika ia mengikuti ideologi beracun yang populer seperti “lone wolf-ism” dan “sigma male-ism”.

Kedua, kesuksesan politik Mamdani tidak menuntut untuk menyembunyikan identitasnya sebagai seorang Muslim. Ketika seseorang menjadi bagian dari kelompok minoritas dalam suatu masyarakat, seringkali ada tekanan sosial (atau bahkan ekspektasi) untuk menyembunyikan identitasnya atau mengabaikan prinsipnya. Hal-hal ini dilakukan demi mendapatkan penerimaan dari masyarakat ramai, bahkan sampai di titik di mana seseorang merasa harus meminta maaf karena memeluk agama Islam, dalam konteks Muslim.

Mamdani membalikkan hal ini. Jejak kampanyenya, pidato kemenangannya dan pelantikannya mencontohkan kepercayaan diri yang luar biasa pada keyakinan agamanya dan penolakan untuk meminta maaf atas ke-Musliman-nya. Kehadirannya di ranah politik adalah perubahan yang menyegarkan, terutama setelah tren beberapa dekade terakhir yang sering memandang Muslim sebagai ancaman keamanan (saya dulu pernah meneliti tentang kontra ekstremisme kekerasan). Teladannya juga merupakan seruan bagi semua orang untuk mencapai titik pemahaman bersama, bukan dengan meminta umat Islam untuk menjelaskan diri dan agama mereka, melainkan dengan dorongan kepada kaum lain untuk mencoba memahami umat Islam dengan segala pengalaman dan latar belakang mereka yang beragam.

Beberapa orang mungkin melihat celah dalam pemikiran saya. Kita sudah tinggal di negara mayoritas Muslim seperti Indonesia dan Malaysia, jadi bukankah kita sudah memiliki ruang dan kesempatan untuk menunjukkan kebanggaan kita sebagai Muslim?

Di sinilah progresivitas Mamdani menambah nuansa dan kompleksitas pada identitas Muslimnya. Ia merangkul banyak konsep dan isu yang tidak akan disentuh oleh penganut Muslim yang lebih konservatif: sosialisme dan LGBT, di antaranya. Diskusi lebih mendalam tentang pandangannya yang berseberangan berada di luar cakupan tulisan ini; namun, sangat menarik bagaimana ia bisa mengklaim imannya tapi juga menantang pandangan sebagian besar rekan seagamanya sekaligus. Hal itu membutuhkan keberanian, keyakinan diri dan kenyamanan dengan imannya yang besar.

Saya bertanya-tanya apakah, dalam satu sisi, ia telah memvalidasi tren yang muncul di kalangan milenial dan Gen Z Indonesia di mana iman sedang ditafsirkan ulang dan diselaraskan untuk menyesuaikan dengan nilai-nilai pribadi, kebutuhan emosional dan pengalaman sehari-hari. Pertanyaan yang ada di benak saya adalah apakah Mamdani juga mengalami konflik internal dalam upayanya menyeimbangkan antara iman dan pandangan politiknya, tetapi saya akan menyerahkan hal ini kepada para psikolog dan filsuf. Namun, hal ini tidak mengasingkan dirinya dari warga Muslim New York yang gembira menyambut seorang Muslim dilantik sebagai wali kota. Faktanya, sebuah jajak pendapat menemukan bahwa 97% pemilih Muslim memilih Mamdani saat pemilu.

Beberapa orang mungkin menyebut ini sebagai sebuah kontradiksi. Saya menyebutnya sebagai kenyataan hidup. Secara pribadi, saya sendiri adalah seorang non-konformis, sering mempertanyakan tatanan masyarakat dan bertanya-tanya mengapa mayoritas orang lain mengikuti tren yang sama.

Mamdani menciptakan sebuah paradoks – seorang Muslim dengan pandangan yang berseberangan – dan hal ini mempunyai beberapa kesamaan dengan sudut pandang saya. Namun di luar keyakinan pribadi saya, Mamdani telah berhasil membuktikan kepada dunia bahwa umat Islam lebih dari sekadar citra dangkal yang dilukiskan dunia Barat dalam beberapa dekade terakhir (yakni terbelakang dan berbahaya). Hal ini memperkuat narasi bahwa umat Islam sama kompleksnya, sama membuminya dan sama manusianya dengan penduduk lain di planet ini.

Mamdani telah menginspirasi saya untuk meraih lebih banyak hal sebagai seorang Muslim dan membela apa yang saya yakini, bahkan jika saya terkadang harus berseberangan dengan beberapa pihak lain.

Identitas di Atas Substansi?

Media arus utama maupun media sosial di Malaysia dan Indonesia meledak dengan euforia yang seringkali menyoroti latar belakang Mamdani sebagai seorang Muslim.

Namun, kegembiraan tersebut mengundang kesangsian dari beberapa pengamat atas apa yang mereka sebut sebagai obsesi terhadap identitas di atas substansi.

Dalam taraf tertentu, kritik semacam ini ada benarnya. Budaya politik Asia Tenggara seringkali lebih menyoroti identitas pribadi, latar belakang dan gaya kepemimpinan dibanding ideologi dan kebijakan. Ketertarikan terhadap agama Mamdani, misalnya, tidak dibarengi dengan perhatian yang sama terhadap kebijakannya yang mencakup pembekuan harga sewa, layanan pengasuhan anak universal, bus kota gratis dan sebagainya.

Jika pengawasan terhadap politik dan kebijakan politisi lokal saja sudah berada pada tingkat minimal, kecil kemungkinannya warga di sini akan mencermati program-program politisi di tempat yang jauh.

Yang lebih bermasalah adalah kenyataan bahwa perhatian terhadap identitas Mamdani tampaknya bersifat selektif. Mamdani adalah pengikut Syiah Dua Belas Imam, fakta yang bisa membuat banyak pengikut Sunni Muslim di Asia Tenggara merasa cemas. Namun, hal ini tidak banyak disebutkan. Ia juga seorang sosialis, yang mungkin bagi beberapa orang jauh lebih buruk, mengingat bagaimana politik sayap kiri seringkali masih dikaitkan dengan ateisme.

Posisi-posisinya yang lebih kontroversial, seperti dukungan terhadap kelompok LGBT, memang memperumit penerimaan terhadap dirinya. Namun, hal ini biasanya tidak diikuti oleh diskusi yang lebih mendalam tentang keyakinan dan identitas Muslim yang bervariasi, karena seringkali perdebatan tersebut dengan cepat merosot menjadi wacana biner tentang apakah Mamdani itu betul seorang Muslim atau bukan. Seorang pelatih di pusat kebugaran saya, misalnya, memuji sekaligus mencela Mamdani dalam waktu 10 detik karena alasan ini.

Hal ini menyajikan sisi menarik dari politik identitas di Asia Tenggara, di mana pemilih umumnya hanya memperhatikan identitas tertentu dari seorang politisi tetapi mengabaikan yang lain. Jelas ini adalah pertanyaan penelitian baru bagi mereka yang tertarik untuk mengeksplorasi topik ini lebih jauh.

Mengabsahkan Perayaan atas Mamdani

Meskipun demikian, kritik tersebut mengabaikan kondisi psikis orang-orang yang merayakan terpilihnya Mamdani sebaga

Pertama, adanya (persepsi) kekurangan sosok Muslim yang inspiratif saat ini. Pencarian di Google atau riset singkat menggunakan Gemini, misalnya, lebih menyediakan contoh-contoh yang sangat condong ke kategori tertentu, seperti ulama, pengusaha sukses atau tokoh sejarah. Ada juga kekurangan jajak pendapat atau survei yang merinci mengenai tokoh Muslim mana yang dihormati di kawasan ini.

Tentu saja, ada Muslim terkemuka saat ini yang juga menginspirasi orang lain. Gemini menawarkan beberapa nama yang mencakup olahragawan (Mo Salah, Khabib Nurmagomedov), penghibur (Riz Ahmed, Ramy Youssef), pemimpin agama (Husein Ja’far Al Hadar, Ustadz Adi Hidayat) dan politisi (Anwar Ibrahim, Anies Baswedan).

Namun, tidak ada statistik yang merinci berapa banyak o

Saya pun turut bersalah—sangat sulit menemukan sosok-sosok yan

Oleh karena itu, kebangkitan Mamdani menjadi relevan di sini. Di samping pencapaiannya, ia juga memotivasi Muslim lainnya untuk menumbuhkan rasa bangga dengan dengan diri sendiri dan dengan keyakinan mereka. Ia juga menunjukkan bahwa seseorang dapat menjadi teladan tanpa harus bersikap keras dan menggurui dalam beragama; malahan, dia menggabungkan kewajiban agama dengan realitas hidup yang dialami umat Islam. Hal ini memastikan bahwa ia dapat dijangkau oleh berbagai kalangan umat Islam dari latar belakang yang berbeda-beda.

Kedua, dampak dari sekuritisasi Muslim di beberapa dekade terakhir. Sudah begitu lama, berkat kebijakan seperti Global War on Terror, banyak umat Islam diarahkan untuk percaya bahwa ada sesuatu yang salah secara hakiki dalam memeluk Islam. Alih-alih mengejar kebenaran sejati melalui rasa ingin tahu, pikiran kritis dan hati yang terbuka, umat Islam justru didorong untuk mendekati agama dengan kecurigaan, ketakutan, dan rasa tidak aman. Pertumbuhan ekstremisme radikal merunyamkan situasi dengan memaksa umat Islam untuk memandang dunia melalui kacamata api dan kebencian. Sebagai pelengkap, industri Islamofobia yang besar semakin memperkuat atmosfer global yang berupaya menekan identitas dan ekspresi Muslim.

Ketika para aktor bersaing mendiktekan “versi Islam yang benar”, ruang bagi banyak Muslim untuk mengejar dan mencapai kebenaran spiritual mereka secara alami menjadi terbatas. Aktor-aktor tersebut menawarkan wacana yang sering kali sangat mengabaikan sejarah, pandangan dunia dan nilai-nilai Islam yang luas; akibatnya, tercipta pandangan reduksionis tentang Islam yang tidak menghargai agensi umat Islam yang sekadar merindukan Tuhan mereka. Banyak yang terjatuh ke dalam celah dari kedua ekstrem tersebut – menjadi Muslim radikal atau murtad – sementara yang lain berjuang untuk menumbuhkan kebanggaan yang tulus pada iman tersebut.

Sebagaimana disinggung di atas, Mamdani menantang tren ini, meyakinkan umat Islam bahwa mereka tidak perlu meminta maaf karena memeluk Islam atau membenarkan iman mereka kepada orang lain. Apakah seseorang beribadah dengan rajin atau tidak adalah pertanyaan terpisah (religiusitas Mamdani sendiri merupakan sebuah teka-teki di internet)—intinya, umat Islam semestinya bisa mengejar kebenaran mereka tanpa rasa tidak aman. Sepanjang masa kampanye, Mamdani harus menangkis tuduhan Islamofobia dan rasis yang mengaitkan dirinya dengan Islam radikal. Oleh karena itu, kemenangannya di pemilu meromantisasi perjuangan sesama Muslim untuk mengukir ruang mereka dan mendapatkan pengakuan, serta penerimaan dari orang lain di masyarakat.

Ketiga, euforia atas Mamdani mekar di tengah pola pikir yang menyebar di antara umat Muslim Asia Tenggara. Ini termasuk ghazwul fikr (perang pemikiran), atau Westernisasi budaya populer yang masif di Asia Tenggara, dan mentalitas terkepung (siege mentality) yang memandang Barat sebagai penindas yang bertujuan melenyapkan Islam. Perspektif seperti ini menyebabkan banyak umat Islam merindukan kejayaan Islam, bebas dari penindasan aktor luar.

Sebagai produk lembaga pendidikan Islam hampir sepanjang hidup saya (yang berarti saya selalu berada di lingkungan Muslim yang taat), perspektif seperti ini adalah tema-tema yang selalu muncul, terutama pada tahun 2000-an ketika kekuatan penuh globalisasi mulai membentuk kehidupan di Indonesia. Bahkan sekarang, pandangan-pandangan seperti ini terus bermunculan dalam berbagai diskusi tentang dunia Muslim, biasanya dibarengi dengan diskusi tentang kegagalan umat Islam untuk merebut kembali kebangkitan Islam di abad ke-13 dan 14 yang menandai puncak peradaban ini.

Kemenangan Mamdani, dengan demikian, menjadi jeda yang menyegarkan di tengah suasana suram ini. Seorang Muslim kini menjabat sebagai wali kota di pusat kapitalis dan liberal Amerika Serikat, memberikan secercah harapan terhadap bangkitnya Islam dan – dalam pola pikir yang lebih biner bagi sebagian orang – kemenangan (yang akan datang) melawan Barat. Sikap anti-genosida Mamdani semakin memperkuat kredibilitasnya di mata khalayak bahwa ia ada di sini untuk memperjuangkan rakyat Palestina yang tertindas.

Ini hanyalah beberapa persepsi yang patut dipertimbangkan untuk memahami mengapa Muslim di Asia Tenggara merayakan kemenangan Mamdani, dengan penekanan khusus pada agamanya. Hal ini tidak terjadi dalam ruang hampa—perhatian terhadap identitasnya (yang tertentu) adalah hasil dari sejarah panjang dan pengalaman bertahun-tahun tentang apa artinya menjadi seorang Muslim di sini.

Jika ada satu pelajaran yang bisa kita petik dari perdebatan ini, hal itu adalah adanya keharusan untuk memahami umat Islam apa adanya; ritual mereka, pola pikir, sejarah, pengalaman, praktik dan, secara oksimoron, iman mereka.

Lawan dan pengkritik Mamdani hanya melihatnya sebagai anggota kelompok minoritas dan seseorang yang menjadi ancaman keamanan. Mereka mengabaikan pendidikan, sejarah, nilai-nilai keluarga, dan hubungannya dengan masyarakat, seolah-olah setiap Muslim tidak memiliki semua hal tersebut yang membuatnya menjadi manusia. Tentu saja para Muslim lain bersorak saat ia menang.

Kesimpulan

Mamdani mungkin telah menginspirasi saya dan orang lain di Asia Tenggara, tetapi kecil kemungkinan banyak orang di sini akan segera muncul menjadi seseorang revolusioner yang sangat berdampak seperti Mamdani.

Menjadi seorang Mamdani berarti menjadi seseorang yang tidak gentar untuk duduk berseberangan dengan orang lain, termasuk dengan sesama Muslim sekalipun. Di lingkungan konservatif Asia Tenggara, kesempatan untuk hal ini sangat terbatas. Seseorang perlu berusaha usaha keras untuk menumbuhkan kepercayaan diri pada cita-cita dan prinsip seseorang—keluar dari arus utama untuk membela apa yang Anda yakini berarti ada kemungkinan besar Anda akan dicap sebagai orang yang individualistik, suatu hal yang sering dicemooh di sini. Anda membutuhkan pendidikan berkualitas, sistem pendukung yang kuat dan kerendahan hati untuk bernegosiasi dengan massa guna menghadapi tantangan yang menghambat perjalanan Anda.

Lupakan soal massa; banyak pria bahkan tidak tahu apa yang mereka inginkan dan apa yang mereka lakukan dalam hidup. Sedihnya, akhir-akhir ini saya menjumpai banyak pria lain yang berkutat dengan pertanyaan-pertanyaan seperti ini, dengan dampak nyata yang bermacam-macam. Bisa jadi mereka juga adalah pribadi-pribadi yang bisa menjadi seorang Mamdani atau lebih, tapi jatuh karena pengaruh krisis maskulinitas global. Dengan kata lain, banyak kondisi saat ini yang menghambat perjalanan kita sebagai pria. Namun untuk saat ini, saya senang akhirnya punya seorang teladan yang bisa saya ik

This month marks the fourth anniversary of my return to my hometown of Makassar (or Ujung Pandang, although KLIA2 has misspelt it as “Ujung Padang” for over a decade) after spending a significant portion of my life in Malaysia.

While Kuala Lumpur’s pandemic horrors made me immensely grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with family and return to my roots, one thing has remained constant in my mind from the moment I stepped foot

Makassar is no longer as green as I remember it.

I am guilty of making an unfair comparison between Makassar and Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta and – to a certain extent – Surabaya, my favourite city in the world. The green public spaces in Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta, for instance, are a sight to behold. Meanwhile, Surabaya’s greenery in the city proper, as well as its cleanliness, is unmatched. Of course, this is just my cursory observation as a former resident of these three cities. I am neither trained in urban planning nor an expert in the SDGs, thus, I asked my free Gemini to produce a simple comparison of the green spaces in all four cities.

The data above already shows that Makassar, in the most optimistic estimation, is doing better than or has surpassed several, if not all, of the three other cities.

However, deeper analysis is required to unpack the nuances, such as what truly constitutes the total green space (usually satellite imagery and AI to track all sorts of vegetation, including rice fields and roadside trees). I would leave that bit to the actual urban planning and SDG experts.

What I want to focus on is that, while Makassar’s figures may seem higher, they may not necessarily translate into a better experience for someone who has lived in all four cities.

This is because, in my nostalgia, Makassar was a much more lush city.

The whole stretch of Pettarani road used to be covered by a tall green canopy, although today its shade is provided by a commercial flyover that can only be accessed if you pay a fee (compared to Kuala Lumpur’s DUKE, for example). At least 1,000 trees were felled to make way for the construction.

Makassar’s green parks also cannot compete with Kuala Lumpur’s Bukit Nanas or Jakarta’s Gelora Bung Karno (GBK), which are essentially urban forests. Comparably, Makassar has Taman Macan, Lapangan Karebosi, Taman Maccini Sombala, Celebes Garden and Taman Pakui Sayang. While these seem like a good variety at first glance, they just do not offer good isolation from urban noise, the thickness that gets you lost in thought or simply the beauty that inspires awe. It does not help that the last of these parks was the site of a recent infamous child kidnapping.

Universitas Hasanuddin and GOR Sudiang are also heavily forested, but they are out of reach for the majority of the population.

Meanwhile, the climate crisis has tightened its grip on the city. Makassar might as well be the location of Taylor Swift’s music video of “Cruel Summer”. During the rainy season, storms inundate large parts of the city, even areas that border the coastline. Needless to say, violent gusts rip down young and old trees alike. As if that is not enough, trees are also easily chopped down if they mess with power lines or threaten surrounding structures (in case of extreme weather), as well as to clear land for more construction. These only demonstrate the locals’ attitude towards this “stuff of life”.

Indeed, as an introverted treehugger, the disappearance of Makassar’s trees is a cause for anxiety to me, not only because of nature’s role in my mental health maintenance but also for what it symbolises: the city’s losing fight against unimpeded capitalism and the climate crisis.

In my adult life, as I struggle with adult stress, I have come to appreciate the pragmatic function of the greenery and green space. The KLCC Park was where I used to sit down on weekends to depressurise and read books, whilst I try to visit GBK whenever I am in Jakarta to reorient my thoughts.

I also do not understand why we still choose information overload from doomscrolling over calming ourselves under the cover of large trees in a park. I do not engage in social activities in such parks, but the simple presence of other human beings connecting with nature always gives me the reminder that the world is bigger than my troubles. To top it off, I have shared with my friends – to their consternation and chagrin – that I found God while driving my scooter past a large swathe of rice terrace in Bali.

Although deeply personal, I believe this is also an experience shared by others. My millennial cohort, especially, would understand. We are already stressing out from our work, personal and family struggles (dating ones, if you are single) at the time when prices go up. We keep telling ourselves (or our friends) to spend a huge sum for therapy or to take that “healing trip” when we do not even have the money. This is despite the therapeutic and recreational effects that public green spaces can offer to you, free of charge.

In fact, Johann Hari in his book Lost Connectio

On a larger scale, the functions of green spaces have also been acknowledged by the United Nations, which highlights their role in promoting physical health, mental wellbeing, social interactions and community engagement. SDG 11.7 even sets the target of providing inclusive public and green space for all by 2030.

If we take it to the extreme, we should remember how green spaces offer one of the few opportunities for exercising and decompressing during the pandemic (apart from grocery runs, in my case), highlighting the significance of parks and gardens in our urban life.

To be fair, the local administration has committed Makassar to becoming a Low Carbon City, although information about it remains scarce. There is also no clarity as to the progress in the city’s tree planting and greening processes.

Furthermore, the provincial government has claimed that its programme Gerakan Sulsel Menanam (South Sulawesi Planting Movement) successfully planted more than 6 million trees in 2024 alone. However, it is difficult to find data regarding how many trees have been planted in Indonesia’s biggest city in the east, or if this makes up for the loss of thousands of hectares of forest in the province.

Meanwhile, there is also an agenda to plant 2020 trees along the Tanjung Bunga area, but only as a restitution for the felling of at least 47 old trees for the revitalisation of Lapangan Karebosi. Similarly, further information regarding this initiative is difficult to find.

From the ecological perspective, it is not merely about planting more trees, as other variables must be factored in as well, including water, biodiversity, land space and others. Planting more trees, for example, is not a solution unless there is enough water to keep them alive. Again, I would leave this argument to experts of urban planning, SDG and ecology out there. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to highlight what the current situation actually says about our general approach to the development vs environment debate.

Felling trees to make way for new development still reeks of the 19th-century capitalist mindset that does not suit this age of climate crisis. Indeed, Jason Hickel in Less is More points out that the insatiable hunger for growth in a capitalist economic system is not sustainable where there is a scarcity of lands, minerals and forests to exploit. Only disasters lie at the end of the line.

For instance, Sumatera’s recent floods of biblical magnitude are only a reminder of the downside of unchecked capitalism. Do we really want to wait for disasters of such a degree to hit us in Makassar and other parts of Sulawesi before we rethink our attitude towards growth?

Extractive activities may bring more wealth to some but ultimately not welfare to all.

To me, the troubling part is that we, or my generation at least, have all received the necessary education about the dangers of deforestation and the importance of green space since we were in elementary school. That this knowledge is successfully imparted in some but not others is puzzling, perhaps even suggesting that there are more gaps in our education system than we realise.

It is also challenging to inspire an attitude change if the locals’ metric for success is still very much

Perhaps Makassar’s tradition as a city of traders, being the biggest port in Indonesia’s east, also plays a part in shaping the locals’ worldview.

In such a society, the regard for the environment and nature may not be as important unless they can bring in more money.

So how do we go about in what appears to be Makassar’s losing fight against capitalism and the climate crisis?

There is value in investing in high-quality public parks that could elevate the life quality of everyone in the city. The challenge is we need more land, but I do not see why Makassar’s philanthropists, sultans and crazy rich cannot find a way to navigate this.

For one, Makassar is home to many abandoned and dilapidated shoplots. The idea is simple: buy these properties, tear them down and build a park on the land. They can name these new parks after themselves or dedicate them to causes they believe in to boost their profile, which could prove useful in the next cycle of regional elections.

This is an era where we shamelessly glorify the ultra-rich, so it follows that heavy expectations and responsibilities are placed on this group as well, especially if they are already making money off the working class. Plus, Makassar needs more trees than shoplots anyway.

Linked to that is the potential of converting these green spaces into new sites of the experience economy, which is a popular phenomenon among today’s millennials and Gen Z.

Instead of encouraging the culture of “healing”, whereby people spend millions of rupiah to go to exotic destinations or attend Coldplay concerts in Singapore, people should be pushed towards spending time in public parks and “healing” themselves mentally and physically there. It also goes without saying that a trip, or even multiple ones, to a green space is a cheaper form of therapy than an hour in your counsellor’s room or a flight ticket to elsewhere.

The fact that even stray cats in front of Jakarta’s FX Sudirman can be a new destination of mini-tourism suggests that there is a vast potential to shape these parks as new sites of the experience economy.

The question is how to create a demand for high-quality green spaces among the people. Without a stronger demand, the public and private sectors would not be incentivised to invest resources in these unless they can bring in tangible benefits.

The solution, in part, lies in diversifying the activities that the public can do in such spaces. Introverts like me are the easiest because we can just sit on a bench and get lost in our melancholic rumination. But what about families—can they have a picnic in Makassar’s current parks? For couples, can they date? For groups, can they engage in group sports or activities? Clearly, being green is not enough for these spaces—they must be ex

Some might think this is a bizarre proposal. Stripping down the environmental and aesthetic arguments, for me personally, perhaps I am more inspired by the longing to get back the city that I knew—cleaner, greener and safer.

Makassar was a resplendent city, especially after the morning rain. But as its greenery disappeared, so did a portion of its splendour.

No doubt it is encouraged by the psychological impulse to return to the element, to a simpler time, especially after spending a big portion of my adult life abroad and getting transformed in the process.

My transition back to Makassar was an internally violent process, one that was made harder by the lack of green space where I can process it mentally. But as much of its greenery has disappeared, it was harder for me to reclaim my identity that was shaped by the city that I k

Bulan ini menandai peringatan empat tahun kembalinya saya ke kota kelahiran, Makassar (atau Ujung Pandang, meskipun KLIA2 telah salah mengejanya sebagai “Ujung Padang” selama lebih dari satu dekade), setelah menghabiskan sebagian besar hidup saya di Malaysia.

Meskipun kengerian pandemi di Kuala Lumpur membuat saya sangat bersyukur atas kesempatan untuk bergabung kembali dengan keluarga dan pulang ke kampung halaman, ada satu hal yang terus menetap di pikiran saya sejak pertama kali menginjakkan kembali kaki di kota ini.

Makassar tidak lagi sehijau yang saya ingat.

Saya mungkin membuat perbandingan yang tidak adil antara Makassar dengan Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta dan – sampai batas tertentu – Surabaya, kota favorit saya di dunia. Ruang terbuka hijau publik di Kuala Lumpur dan Jakarta, misalnya, sangat memukau. Sementara itu, penghijauan di pusat kota Surabaya, serta kebersihannya, tidak tertandingi. Tentu saja, ini hanyalah pengamatan sekilas saya sebagai orang yang pernah tinggal di ketiga kota tersebut. Saya bukan ahli dalam perencanaan kota maupun SDG; oleh karena itu, saya meminta bantuan Gemini untuk menghasilkan perbandingan sederhana mengenai ruang hijau di keempat kota tersebut.

Data di atas menunjukkan bahwa Makassar, dalam estimasi paling optimis, menunjukkan hasil yang lebih baik atau bahkan melampaui beberapa, jika tidak semua, ketiga kota lainnya.

Namun, diperlukan peninjauan yang lebih mendalam untuk mengurai nuansa yang hadir dalam perbandingan ini. Contohnya, apa saja yang sebenarnya dihitung sebagai total ruang hijau (biasanya menggunakan citra satelit dan AI untuk melacak segala jenis vegetasi, termasuk sawah dan pohon di pinggir jalan)? Untuk diskusi yang mengarah ke bidang ini, saya menyerahkannya kepada para ahli perencanaan kota dan SDG yang sebenarnya.

Apa yang ingin saya fokuskan adalah, meskipun data-data Makassar di atas tampak lebih tinggi, hal itu tidak serta merta membawa ke pengalaman yang lebih baik bagi seseorang yang pernah tinggal di keempat kota tersebut.

Ini karena, dalam nostalgia saya, Makassar dulu adalah kota yang jauh lebih rimbun.

Dulu, seluruh bentangan jalan Pettarani tertutup oleh kanopi hijau yang tinggi, meski hari ini keteduhannya disediakan oleh jalan tol komersial yang hanya bisa diakses dengan membayar tarif tol (dibandingkan dengan DUKE di Kuala Lumpur, misalnya). Setidaknya 1.000 pohon ditebang untuk memberi jalan bagi pembangunan tersebut.

Taman-taman hijau di Makassar juga tidak dapat bersaing dengan Bukit Nanas di Kuala Lumpur atau Gelora Bung Karno (GBK) di Jakarta, yang pada dasarnya adalah hutan kota. Sebagai perbandingan, Makassar memiliki Taman Macan, Lapangan Karebosi, Taman Maccini Sombala, Celebes Garden dan Taman Pakui Sayang. Meski sekilas tampak bervariasi, taman-taman ini tidak menawarkan isolasi yang baik dari kebisingan kota, kerimbunan yang membuat Anda hanyut dalam pikiran atau sekadar keindahan yang memicu rasa kagum. Apalagi, taman terakhir yang disebutkan di atas merupakan lokasi penculikan anak yang sempat viral baru-baru ini.

Universitas Hasanuddin dan GOR Sudiang juga memiliki vegetasi yang lebat, namun lokasinya berada di luar jangkauan mayoritas penduduk.

Sementara itu, krisis iklim semakin mempererat cengkramannya di kota ini. Saking panasnya kota ini, Makassar bisa saja menjadi lokasi video musik “Cruel Summer” milik Taylor Swift. Selama musim hujan, badai menggenangi sebagian kot

Sungguh, sebagai seorang penyuka pohon yang introver, hilangnya pohon-pohon di Makassar menjadi penyebab kecemasan bagi saya, bukan hanya karena peran alam dalam menjaga kesehatan mental saya, tetapi juga karena apa yang disimbolkannya: kekalahan kota ini dalam melawan kapitalisme yang tak terkendali dan krisis iklim.

Dalam kehidupan dewasa saya, di tengah pergulatan dengan tekanan, saya mulai menghargai fungsi pragmatis dari penghijauan dan ruang terbuka hijau. Dulu, KLCC Park adalah tempat saya biasa duduk di akhir pekan untuk melepas penat dan membaca buku, sementara saya selalu mencoba mengunjungi GBK setiap kali berada di Jakarta untuk menata kembali pikiran saya.

Saya juga tidak mengerti mengapa kita masih memilih kejenuhan informasi dari doomscrolling daripada menenangkan diri di bawah naungan pohon besar di taman. Memang, saya tidak melakukan aktivitas sosial di taman-taman tersebut, tetapi kehadiran manusia lain yang menghubungkan diri dengan alam selalu mengingatkan saya bahwa dunia ini lebih besar daripada masalah-masalah saya. Bahkan, saya pernah bercerita kepada teman-teman saya – yang membuat mereka heran dan kesal – bahwa saya menemukan Tuhan saat mengendarai motor melewati hamparan terasering sawah yang luas di Bali.

Meski sangat personal, saya percaya pengalaman ini juga dirasakan oleh orang lain. Generasi milenial, khususnya, pasti paham. Kita sudah cukup stres dengan pekerjaan, masalah pribadi dan keluarga (atau masalah kencan, jika Anda lajang) di saat harga-harga melonjak naik. Kita juga terus meyakinkan diri sendiri (atau teman-teman kita) untuk mengeluarkan biaya besar demi terapi atau melakukan “healing trip“, walaupun uangnya mungkin tiada. Padahal, efek terapeutik dan rekreasional dapat ditawarkan oleh ruang terbuka hijau publik secara cuma-cuma.

Bahkan, Johann Hari dalam bukunya Lost Connections menulis tentang dampak positif alam terhadap kesehatan mental seseorang. Buku tersebut berargumen bahwa keterputusan seseorang dari kebutuhan dasar – seperti komunitas, pekerjaan yang bermakna dan kontak dengan alam – adalah penyebab depresi dan kecemasan. Dalam bab yang didedikasikan untuk alam, Hari menceritakan sebuah studi di mana subjek tesnya melaporkan penurunan tingkat depresi setelah pindah dari daerah perkotaan ke daerah yang lebih hijau, sedangkan hal sebaliknya dilaporkan oleh mereka yang pindah ke pusat kota. Ia juga mengamati bahwa membenamkan diri di alam dapat menekan ego dan menanamkan rasa kagum, karena hal tersebut dapat mendorong seseorang untuk melihat segala sesuatu dari perspektif yang lebih besar dan tidak terpusat pada masalah internal yang membebani mereka.

Dalam skala yang lebih besar, fungsi ruang terbuka hijau juga telah diakui oleh PBB, yang menyoroti perannya dalam meningkatkan kesehatan fisik, kesejahteraan mental, interaksi sosial dan keterlibatan komunitas. SDG 11.7 bahkan menetapkan target penyediaan ruang publik dan hijau yang inklusif bagi semua orang pada tahun 2030.

Jika ditarik ke titik ekstrem, kita pasti ingat bagaimana ruang terbuka hijau menawarkan salah satu dari sedikit kesempatan untuk berolahraga dan menghilangkan stres selama pandemi (selain belanja bahan makanan, dalam kasus saya), yang lalu menekankan pentingnya taman dan kebun

Sejujurnya, pemerintah kota telah berkomitmen untuk menjadikan Makassar sebagai Low Carbon City, meskipun informasi mengenainya masih langka. Juga belum ada kejelasan mengenai kemajuan dalam proses penanaman pohon dan penghijauan di kota ini.

Selain itu, pemerintah provinsi juga mengklaim bahwa program Gerakan Sulsel Menanam berhasil menanam lebih dari 6 juta pohon pada tahun 2024. Namun, sulit untuk menemukan data mengenai berapa banyak pohon yang telah ditanam di kota terbesar di Indonesia Timur ini, atau apakah pohon yang ditanam sudah menggantikan hilangnya ribuan hektar hutan di provinsi tersebut.

Sementara itu, ada juga agenda untuk menanam 2020 pohon di sepanjang area Tanjung Bunga, namun hanya sebagai restitusi atas penebangan setidaknya 47 pohon tua untuk revitalisasi Lapangan Karebosi. Sekali lagi, informasi lebih lanjut mengenai inisiatif ini sulit ditemukan.

Dari perspektif ekologi, ini bukan sekadar menanam lebih banyak pohon, karena var

Menebang pohon untuk memberi jalan bagi pembangunan baru masih berbau pola pikir kapitalis abad ke-19 yang tidak sesuai dengan era krisis iklim yang sedang kita alami. Jason Hickel dalam Less is More menunjukkan bahwa rasa nafsu tak terpuaskan akan pertumbuhan ekonomi, dalam sebuah sistem kapitalis, tidak akan bisa dipertahankan ketika ada kelangkaan lahan, mineral dan hutan untuk dieksploitasi. Hanya bencana yang menanti di ujung jalan.

Sebagai contoh, banjir dengan skala besar di Sumatera baru-baru ini hanyalah pengingat akan dampak buruk dari kapitalisme yang tidak terkendali. Apakah kita ingin menunggu bencana yang sama menghantam kita di Makassar dan bagian lain Sulawesi sebelum mengubah sikap kita terhadap pertumbuhan?

Aktivitas ekstraktif mungkin mendatangkan lebih banyak kekayaan bagi sebagian orang, tetapi pada akhirnya tidak membawa kesejahteraan bagi semua.

Menurut saya, bagian yang meresahkan adalah kita, atau setidaknya generasi saya, telah menerima pendidikan yang memadai tentang bahaya deforestasi dan pentingnya ruang terbuka hijau sejak sekolah dasar. Meski demikian, mengapa ilmu ini berhasil tertanam pada sebagian orang tetapi tidak pada yang lain? Ini mungkin menunjukkan bahwa ada lebih banyak celah dalam sistem pendidikan kita daripada yang kita sadari.

Sulit juga untuk menginspirasi perubahan sikap masyarakat jika tolak ukur kesuksesan penduduk setempat masih sangat terikat pada kepemilikan materi. Kita sedang mendiskusikan penduduk sebuah kota di mana rumah harus t

Mungkin tradisi Makassar sebagai kota pedagang, dengan pelabuhan terbesar di Indonesia Timur, juga berperan dalam membentuk cara pandang penduduk setempat.

Dalam masyarakat seperti ini, penghargaan terhadap lingkungan dan alam mungkin tidak dianggap penting kecuali jika hal tersebut dapat mendatangkan lebih banyak uang.

Lantas, bagaimana kita menyikapi apa yang tampak sebagai kekalahan Makassar melawan kapitalisme dan krisis iklim ini?

Penting untuk berinvestasi pada taman publik berkualitas tinggi yang dapat mengangkat kualitas hidup semua orang di kota ini. Tantangannya adalah kita membutuhkan lebih banyak lahan, tetapi saya tidak melihat alasan mengapa para filantropis, sultan dan crazy rich Makassar tidak dapat menemukan cara untuk menghadapi hal ini.

Contohnya, Makassar sudah menjadi tuan rumah bagi banyak ruko yang terbengkalai dan bobrok. Idenya sederhana: beli properti ini, robohkan dan bangun taman di lahan tersebut. Mereka dapat menamai taman baru ini dengan nama mereka sendiri atau mendedikasikannya untuk gerakan yang didukung guna meningkatkan profil mereka, yang bisa berguna dalam siklus pilkada berikutnya.

Ini adalah era di mana kita tanpa malu-malu mengagungkan kaum super kaya, maka sudah sewajarnya ekspektasi dan tanggung jawab besar juga dibebankan pada kelompok ini, terutama jika mereka sudah meraup untung dari kelas pekerja. Lagipula, Makassar lebih membutuhkan lebih banyak pohon daripada ruko.

Terkait dengan hal itu adalah potensi mengubah ruang terbuka hijau ini menjadi lokasi baru bagi experience economy (ekonomi berbasis pengalaman), yang merupakan fenomena populer di kalangan milenial dan Gen Z saat ini.

Daripada mendorong budaya “healing” di mana orang menghabiskan jutaan rupiah untuk pergi ke destinasi eksotis atau menghadiri konser Coldplay di Singapura, masyarakat seharusnya didorong untuk menghabiskan waktu di taman publik dan melakukan “healing” secara mental dan fisik di sana. Tak perlu dikatakan lagi bahwa perjalanan, bahkan berkali-kali pun, ke ruang hijau adalah bentuk terapi yang lebih murah daripada satu jam di ruang konselor atau tiket pesawat ke tempat lain.

Fakta bahwa bahkan kucing jalanan di depan FX Sudirman Jakarta saja bisa menjadi destinasi wisata mini baru menunjukkan bahwa ada potensi besar untuk membentuk taman-taman ini sebagai lokasi baru experience economy.

Pertanyaannya adalah bagaimana menciptakan permintaan akan ruang hijau berkualitas tinggi di kalangan masyarakat. Tanpa permintaan yang kuat, sektor publik dan swasta tidak akan terdorong untuk menginvestasikan sumber daya pada hal ini kecuali jika hal tersebut dapat memberikan manfaat nyata.

Sebagian solusinya terletak pada diversifikasi kegiatan yang dapat dilakukan publik di ruang-ruang tersebut. Orang introver seperti saya adalah yang paling mudah dipuaskan, karena kami bisa hanya duduk di bangku taman dan hanyut dalam perenungan melankolis. Namun, bagaimana dengan keluarga—bisakah mereka berpiknik di taman-taman Makassar saat ini? Untuk pasangan, bisakah mereka berkencan? Untuk kelompok, bisakah mereka terlibat dalam olahraga atau aktivitas grup? Jelas, menjadi hijau saja tidak cukup bagi ruang-ruang ini—mereka juga harus bersifat eksperiensial.

Beberapa orang mungkin menganggap ini proposal yang aneh. Menanggalkan argumen lingkungan dan estetika, bagi saya pribadi, mungkin saya lebih terinspirasi oleh kerinduan untuk mendapatkan kembali kota yang saya kenal—yang lebih bersih, lebih hijau dan lebih aman.

Makassar dulu adalah kota yang sangat indah, terutama setelah hujan di pagi hari. Namun seiring hilangnya kehijauannya, hilang pula sebagian dari kemegahannya.

Tidak diragukan lagi, hal ini didorong oleh dorongan psikologis untuk kembali ke elemen dasar, ke masa yang lebih sederhana, terutama setelah menghabiskan sebagian besar kehidupan dewasa saya di luar negeri dan bertransformasi dalam prosesnya.

Transisi saya kembali ke Makassar adalah sebuah proses internal yang penuh gejolak, proses yang diperberat oleh kurangnya ruang hijau tempat saya dapat memprosesnya secara mental. Karena banyak kehijauannya telah hilang, lebih sulit bagi saya untuk merebut kembali identitas saya yang dulu dibentuk oleh kota yang saya kenal, yang memberi saya acuan referensi tentang siapa saya dan apa artinya menjadi bagian dari masyarakat Makassar. Dengan demikian, saya terpaksa membangun identitas baru, yang dipengaruhi oleh perubahan radikal kota ini dan pohon-pohonnya yang menghilang. Upaya kita dalam memanipulasi – dan juga menghancurkan – alam selalu membawa konsekuensi. Jika hal ini memberikan dampak yang begitu besar bagi saya, bayangkan dampak apa yang akan diberikannya pada orang lain, seluruh masyarakat, kota ini dan planet ini secara keseluruhan.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

Introduction

Alien: Romulus spares no time at grasping the audience’s attention.

The deafening silence that accompanies its magnificent first scene – a spaceship gliding through the debris of Nostromo – is a confident way to demonstrate its fine quality as a film.

The spaceship in question was inviting a well-known monster onboard, extracting a meteorite in which the Xenomorph from the first Alien movie was entombed.

For a movie franchise that is 45 years old, the horror trope is all-too familiar. Anyone with a remote knowledge of the 1980s pop culture can already predict what would happen next: facehuggers, chest-bursting alien babies and acid-blooded Xenomorphs slaughtering everyone on board. After six Alien movies, the setting and plot of Romulus do not exactly offer anything new.

And yet, boredom did not strike me for even a second. Despite its tired elements, Romulus offers new ways of storytelling to the Alien canon that kept me invested in the story throughout its runtime.

It does not revolutionize the tenets of the franchise – in fact, many of Romulus’ elements follow the template established by the six movies that came before. How then, did Romulus become one of the best movies in the franchise as well as an entertaining horror in 2024? The answer lies in three factors: nostalgia, stunning visuals and a new interpretation of its true horror.

That ‘80s Formula

In short, Romulus is a story about a group of indentured workers and a synthetic (i.e., an android) trying to escape their homeworld and undertake a multi-year voyage across space. To achieve so, they needed to extract cryochambers from a defunct space station that, unsurprisingly, was infested with facehuggers and Xenomorphs.

Itcapitalizes on the ‘80s nostalgia that has swept the film and television industry in recent years, fuelled by the decade’s cultural gravitas as well as Hollywood’s lack of confidence at producing new materials. Blade Runner 2049, Stranger Things and It exemplify this, evoking visual imagery that is native of the ‘80s or setting an entire story in the decade.

Romulus leans towards the former. A portion of its first act is set in Jackson, shown as a dark, steampunk-ish sunless planet that reminds us of the “dirty” and bleak dystopia typical of Blade Runner and The Terminator.

When the setting finally shifts to the space station Renaissance, this identity remains just as strong, manifesting through the ‘80s interpretation of “advanced” technologies. This includes computers with convex screens, bulky keyboard keys and cubic fonts typically used for coding today, all of which give a major throwback to how technologies were depicted in the decade’s movies.

It stands in sharp contrast with its immediate predecessors Prometheus and Alien: Covenant, which opt for futuristic physics, a clean look and an optimistic take on technology. The problem is, the two movies were released around the same time period as other movies that featured a similar look and feel (such as Star Wars, Star Trek and the more realistic Interstellar). They failed to stand out among the rest.

Romulus refuses to bow to this convention, instead choosing “backward” imagery that strongly registers with today’s audience.

Magnificent Shots

Romulus is also supported by some truly magnificent shots, placing it closer to Interstellar than Star Wars in a spectrum of comparison.

Some of these are worth mentioning here. The atmospheric ascension of Corbelan, the characters’ ship, through thick and stormy clouds conjures the image of their rise from a hellscape (Jackson) to a hope for a brighter future (Renaissance) with divine intensity.

Once above the atmosphere, wide shots are also utilized to showcase Jackson’s gloomy surface coupled with its impressive belt of icy rings, portraying the outer space that is beautiful and dangerous at once. My awe was further elevated as Renaissance came into view, an imposing, floating object that would soon be the characters’ fatal agony.

This interplay between beautiful visuals and danger becomes a leitmotif throughout the movie. Renaissance’s halls, labs and rooms are well-designed but leave enough room for danger to lurk in shadowy crevices.

The station’s striking exterior is also beautifully shot, even as Corbelan crashed against its fuel tank and augmented the sense of emergency.

Of most memorable is the collision of Renaissance with Jackson’s planetary rings, depicting a stunning catastrophe brought about by ice, fire and empty space.

Beautiful shots like these usually bear a small contribution to the plot progression, but in the case of Romulus, they act as a counter to the potential boredom created by our overfamiliarity with its horror.

In other words, these shots improve the movie’s quality by injecting artistic components that force the audience to judge it beyond just its horror elements.

Moreover, they also widen our perspective of the Alien franchise by introducing a creative dimension to its expanding universe, in a way that is more impactful than the franchise’s most recent attempts. Again, Prometheus and Covenant look stylish and modern, yet they are not as striking as Romulus.

As if this is not enough, consider also the clever use of colors to accentuate the movies’ mood and ambience, which overall raised my cinematic experience. Loosely, yellow is suspense, white is safe, blue is low temperature and red is death. These accents also rarely play any role in the story but act as a useful compass as to what the audience can expect in the next few minutes or so, thereby swelling the thrill. For example, had the movie used standard lighting and colorization for the scene where dormant facehuggers were coming back to life in their cryopods, I doubt it would have had an effect as terrifying as the one shown in the movie’s final cut.

Technology and Corruption

To my surprise, my familiarity with Romulus’ alien life forms allowed me to pay more attention to its other aspects, thereby facilitating a different interpretation of what its core horror really is to me personally.

This relates to the corrupt use of technology, as well as to humans’ helplessness at trying to control it.

An early point in the story shows a bureaucrat of Weyland-Yutani, the corporation that “enslaved” the human characters on Jackson, who was manipulating her computer data to deny Rain (Cailee Spaeny) her right to relocate to a planet outside the corporation’s control.

This might seem like a menial detail. However, such a crucial act was what propelled Rain and Andy (her synthetic “brother” played by David Jonsson) to embark on their deadly adventure with the rest of the characters.

The intersection of corruption and horror is rife in Southeast Asia, where the abuse of power could pave the way for personal horror in the life of the abused. Romulus reminds us that technology can be a vector for such abuse, which, in the region’s context, has resulted in social ills and crimes.

In Indonesia, for example, the recent data leak disaster represents the nation’s desire for modernization that is not sufficiently paired with efforts to address the fundamentals, i.e., cybersecurity. As a result, the loss of millions of citizens’ personal data would be a looming anxiety over years to come, as they await in concern over how their data would be exploited by irresponsible parties.

The Malaysian government has also been under pressure to combat cybercrimes targeting vulnerable individuals, particularly

Meanwhile, Cambodia has emerged as something of a hotspot of cyber-slavery, where gangsters allure individuals (often young and English-speaking) from neighboring countries with a promise of well-paid employment. The victims would soon find themselves in closed compounds with their documents seized, forced to perform online scams with no prospect of getting released.

These are just snippets of how technology has been exploited by malicious parties in Southeast Asia, leaving only destruction in their wake. They are not too dissimilar to Weyland-Yutani’s activities to keep Rain on as an indentured worker, by way of manipulating technology.

Futile Attempt

It is not an Alien movie if it does not depict the tension and collaboration between humans and synthetics. In Romulus, this manifests in the human characters’ perplexity – and eventual dread – over their inability to control Andy’s behavior and actions.

To recap, the friendly synthetic was invited to join the crew for his ability to communicate with Renaissance’s AI, allowing him to perform all sorts of tasks such as opening locked doors and navigating the station’s alien-infested corridors. Andy started to behave outside the humans’ expectations once a new module was installed on his processor, shifting his priorities away from serving Rain’s best interest to Weyland-Yutani’s.

In other words, whereas Andy’s prime directive was to preserve human lives, his “upgrade” changed to fulfilling the company’s pursuit. He also started to apply cold logic to his actions which frightened the human characters for how inhuman they seemingly were.

Nothing in this plotline also feels refreshingly new. This theme of human-synthetic tension has been a staple since Ash betrayed the human crew of Nostromo in 1979’s Alien. Subsequently, we have had Bishop (Aliens), who was a poster boy of an obedient synthetic, as well as David (Prometheus and Covenant), who was just as capable of enjoying classical music as instigating a genocide.

Romulus applies a more sinister undertone to this long-running theme, mixing Andy’s identity question and the human characters’ futile attempt at keeping him under control. The result was the latent horror that amplifies Romulus’ overt horror, i.e., the facehuggers and Xenomorphs.

For example, the cold logic of upgraded Andy demanded he terminate the pilot who was impregnated by a facehugger. Though he was unsuccessful, his attempt to do so resulted in a disaster that only worsened the overall situation. At that point, the horror shifted from the Xenomorph to Andy, as the surviving characters and audience wondered about which posed more threat.

Meanwhile, despite his initial task of obeying the humans’ request to open locked doors, upgraded Andy showed that he could decide not to abide by such a demand. At one point, he refused to open a locked door, thereby condemning the pregnant person on the other side to oblivion by Xenomorph.

The tension between Andy and the humans represents the latter’s failed attempt at controlling technology despite their utilitarian design when inviting him onboard. Ultimately, their downfall came about from their inability to anticipate the consequences of upgrading Andy, which was portrayed as the synthetic being “corrupted” by Weyland-Yutani’s capitalist pursuit.

This plotline is also consistent with the popular discourse about humans’ latent fear over machines’ unpredictability and display of higher independence, a topic which has also been highlighted in The Terminator and Mass Effect, among others. In the former, Skynet saw all humans as a threat after becoming self-aware, while in the latter, the Geth spooked its creators by asking if it has a soul, a question that can only be conceived by a sentient creature.  

In real life, AI has

If such are our concerns today, then in the probable future, Romulus shows that humans remain unable to subjugate technology to their will. The question is no longer about what we are going to use AI for; it is whether humans should be entrusted with this technology in the first place.

Whereas such plotlines would have been relegated to science fiction in previous decades, we cannot help but wonder if these have become a not-so-remote possibility thanks to today’s state of technology. Romulus’ true horror, thus, lies in its Lovecraftian approach to advanced technologies—the dread over what machines would do once they become self-aware and obtain free will, as well as humans’ futile attempt at trying to tame it.

Conclusion

Romulus is a strikingly beautiful movie and its artistic choices worked well in amplifying its quality. It abandons the clean, futuristic and high-tech look while choosing to remain faithful to the imageries of the first Alien movies, which resonate well with the audience’s taste today. The latest advancement in technology has also prompted new ways to interpret its true horror, away from the alien life forms to the synthetic beings that we strive to create today.

[WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD]

The Society Loves its Horror

How does the story about the trauma caused by a terrorist attack reflect, challenge and enlighten the Indonesian public?  

Siksa Kubur (Grave Torture) opened on 11 April 2024 in Indonesia, where horror movies are arguably the most popular in the market. The movie is a special treat for fans of horror movies who love having their intellect engaged by what they see on the widescreen. Its chief theme of repentance also seals the Ramadhan experience this year, which concluded just two days before Siksa Kubur was released.

Audience may find this cinematic experience thought-provoking, borderline nihilistic but also relatable, considering many of its components are derived from our mundane daily life. It is a blend of religious and psychological horror that is highly unusual for Indonesians, a deeply mystical society who love to be spooked by ghosts and monsters but may not necessarily grasp the terrible terror of the afterlife.  Joko Anwar penned its script and helmed its direction, creating a flawed story that continues to haunt our psyche days after credits roll.

Though not without criticism, the movie strives to enrich the public’s discourse on contemporary socio-cultural topics. It carries a strong premise about grave torture for the sinful in Islamic tradition, while also being supported by an oppressive atmosphere, stellar performance by some of its cast as well as its more subtle messages that present themselves as riddles.

For these reasons and its reflection as well as critique of the Indonesian society, Siksa Kubur is a must watch, even if its narrative structure still falls victim to questionable logic that more often than not plagues Indonesian moving pictures.

This piece attempts to explore some of the themes and messages that are scattered throughout this dark movie.

Sita Challenges Religion

In short, Siksa Kubur depicts the traumatic lives of siblings Sita (Faradina Mufti) and Adil (Reza Rahadian) whose parents were killed in a suicide bombing attack outside their bakery.

Each sibling manifests the pathos differently. Elder Adil succumbs to a lifelong depressed state, while younger Sita wages a war against religion and God. By burying herself next to the corpse of a most sinful person, Sita hopes to prove that grave torture, religion and divine power are mere societal myths.

It may appear blasphemous, but her motivation appears humane. She was forced to put a blame on something after her traumatic experience in order to help her rationalize it (which, in her case case, religion). Sita turns further away from religion after the rich owner of the pesantren they go to rapes Adil.

Putting aside the absurdity of the pesantren rape plot point (back-to-back atroci

But he goes further than that. Siksa Kubur is his latest and most ambitious attempt at bringing dialectic to the discussion about Islamic concepts and practice through desacralization, which he has dabbled in before (e.g., both ustadz in both Pengabdi Setan [Satan’s Slaves] movies are murdered by demonic presence). In Siksa Kubur, this is shown through three instances.

First, Islam is depicted as having been twisted by its followers through the terrorist attack and the pesantren rape incident.

Second, religious characters appear irrelevant or outright despicable. Videos of ustadz discussing about grave torture are dismissed by adult Sita. Meanwhile, a weirdly-accented, despicable ustadzah (Jajang C. Noer) at young Sita’s pesantren is hell-bent on punishing Sita for breaking rules, but readily accepts the rapist owner’s proclivities because “he has helped other students”.

Third, by interrogating the very nature of grave torture, the filmmaker downgrades its presence from the absolute realm (i.e., perceived as a factual truth in Islamic tradition) to the audience’s subjective interpretation. Even that explosive ending does not offer much closure, as audience are encouraged to interpret whether the visceral depiction of grave torture is real or a result of chemical reaction in her brain.

By depicting these, Joko Anwar successfully reproduces the internal anxiety faced by Muslims in Indonesia. These are questions they probably have had to face and received no conclusive answers for (e.g., why some Muslims become terrorists; whether religious figures today are inviolable and; what comes after death; etc.). The movie is a reflection of questions, doubt and skepticism harbored by Indonesian Muslims as they practice their faith in the growing conservatism of the country. This is an important nuance for observers of Indonesian Muslims, showcasing that the religious group is richer than just their rituals, tension with outgroups or voting pattern.   

Desacralization has triggered public curiosity and outright backlash before. However, Joko Anwar cleverly employs this device to induce the audience into thinking critically about how Islam is practiced and subverted by its followers in Indonesia.

Unfortunately, for all its sublime genius in provocative imagery, Siksa Kubur falls short as a philosophical treatise. It excels in provoking the audience through images and symbols, but disappoints when it explores the debate that transpires. A particularly low point is the central confrontation between Sita and Pak Wahyu about the nature of grave torture. In it, Pak Wahyu’s renunciation

This puts Siksa Kubur in contrast to religious horror masterpiece Midnight Mass, which scrutinizes religion and affirms faith unashamedly. Alternatively, Joko Anwar’s restraint might also reflect Muslims’ own reluctance at confronting religion with critical questions, which is also another source of internal discomfort among the community.

Siksa Kubur is rife with thought-provoking religious symbolism without having to go full-blown Islamic, even if it does not invite us into a philosophical ride.

Adil Subverts the Stereotypes

Siksa Kubur is also not hesitant to challenge common gender stereotypes that prevail in Indonesia.

Character-wise, Sita is presented as an antithesis to a tired horror trope that frequently portrays women as an antagonistic ghoul. This patriarchal and exploitative approach is common in Indonesia’s horror repertoire, such as Joko Anwar’s own Pengabdi Setan, Suzanna: Buried Alive and KKN di Desa Penari (Community Service at the Dancer’s Village).

Her arc is unique. She may have been victimized early in the movie, but she draws on her trauma to pursue a life goal (i.e., waging a war against religion) as a rational, breathing woman. In other movies, she probably needs to die and comes back as a vengeful, cackling ghost before her objective can be achieved.

Since the first minutes, she has been portrayed as the more dominant of the two siblings, making difficult decision and charting the path that she and Adil must tread. She does this despite being the younger of the two and a woman, which challenges a common cultural expectation that see men as a leader and more rational gender.

Stereotypes are further subverted by the reserved Adil. Between the siblings, the latter is arguably more miserable: 1) he could have prevented his parents’ deaths; 2) he is raped by the pe

He may be trauma personified, but as a character he challenges the societal assumption that only women are susceptible to mental health problems. He shows what trauma and depression does to a man in a believable way, thanks to Reza Rahadian’s scene-stealing performance. The palpability of his anguish nudges us to also ponder upon the pain endured by real-life survivors of terrorist and rape incidents, including boys and men.

Even toxic masculinity is not spared. Siksa Kubur encourages us to empathize with non-conforming men who are not hesitant to display strong emotion. Adil is consistently exhibited as having qualities that may not be expected in an alpha male: 1) compassion (he offers warm water to a thirsty customer, who minutes later kills his parents); 2) sensitive (he is aware of his flaws as the older sibling) and; 3) level-headedness (he is cautious of the potential fallout of Sita’s scheme). Adil also expresses his emotion more openly compared to Sita with her stoic defiance, visibly crying at various points in an apparent display of grief.

Siksa Kubur wants us to confront our prejudice and asks if we judge these characters, even if they do not comply to the societal standards that we subscribe to. Case in point: when Adil gets indecisive and confused in a particularly stressful scene, the girl seated next to me blurted, “I really hate this Adil.”

Pak Wahyu Screams in His Grave

The central story of Siksa Kubur alone is packed with messages and provocations despite descending into a bizarre haunting plotline in its second act. However, what makes this movie truly dazzling is its existence as a metaphor of a journey towards acceptance and healing.  

Throughout the film, Sita and Adil are almost exclusively seen indoors, suggested to be their trauma response to the danger that lurks outside (their parents are killed outside their bakery). Things shift after Pak Wahyu’s suicide, as the they start finding problems indoors too. Sita is harassed by a black apparition (implied to be either one of the angels Munkar and Nakir) and Adil was attacked by a walking corpse. These may symbolize their festering trauma that starts to cause problems to their psyche as they fail to address it.

The key to this indoor vs. outdoor riddle lies towards the end, when Sita embarks on a psychological journey into herself, ending up in the same tunnel she used to escape from the pesantren years ago. After getting harassed by restless spirits, the black angel and the demonic version of Pak Wahyu, Sita soon finds herself in her family’s bakery with her parents outside, all-smiles and waving goodbye to her before peacefully disappearing.

This is the most critical scene in the story, as Sita – who is crying at this point – is seemingly informed by her parents that she needs to accept their death and let go of her anger. She must find her way outside from the prison of trauma that she builds and encloses herself within. It is one that offers a completely different interpretation of what the movie conveys – a psychological journey of healing instead of an outright horror.

This theme is furt

Sita’s horrific journey is a symbolism of the arduous process that individuals suffering from mental health challenges must undertake to heal. In a society where conversation about mental health is still frowned upon, the severity of the issue compounds. In 2018, more than 12 million Indonesians aged 15 and above suffered from different stages of depression, but less than 3% actively sought professional help. Meanwhile, in 2022 it is estimated that 12,250 Indonesian adolescents were afflicted with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the same issue endured by Sita and Adil.

Siksa Kubur is a window into the daily suffering of those who live with unresolved trauma and internal conflict, as well as the terrible consequences of not addressing them. If we can find ourselves identifying with Sita and Adil, then it should not be difficult for us to build compassion for victims of traumatizing experience in Indonesia as well, which includes armed conflict, bullying, terrorist attack, domestic and sexual violence, accident, natural disaster, and many more. A simple Google search

Sita may find her resolution at the end of the movie, but we cannot expect real-life Sitas and Adils to suffer through a similarly punishing ride before finding their peace as well. A pertinent question thus arises: do perpetrators of violence, abuse, crimes and other social ills believe in the existence of grave torture before committing deeds that leave others traumatized?

Man Robbuka?

On a personal level, Siksa Kubur is a profound story that compels one to introspect on their life, wrongdoings and virtues. It is effective both as a psychological and religious horror, even if it loses its footing in the middle and fails as a philosophical argument. Its brilliance, however, lies in its ability to reflect the realities of the Muslim society in Indonesia, challenge prevailing norms and standards, as well as pinpoint the issues that deserve more attention in Indonesia. If not for its shortfalls, it could have been Joko Anwar’s masterpiece, surpassing even Perempuan Tanah Jahanam (Impetigore).

stratsea.com mourns the loss of Indonesia’s Chairman of the Press Council and intellectual juggernaut Prof. Dr. Haji Azyumardi Azra, MA, MPhil, CBE, who passed away on 18 September 2022 in Malaysia. May his soul live in everlasting peace with the Almighty.

We convey our condolences and deepest sympathies to his family and friends in this difficult time. May we celebrate his life by adopting his relentless pursuit of knowledge and carrying forward the stellar work he had achieved in the scholarship of Islam, education and Indonesia.

~~~

Prof. Azyumardi Azra was not just an ordinary Islamic scholar in Indonesia, he was also a historian, an educator, a staunch democrat and a champion of pluralism. He was true to his own ideas and ideals even towards the end of his celebrated life.

He was scheduled to attend an international conference on Kosmopolitan Islam in Kuala Lumpur but experienced shortness of breath on the plane before being rushed to Rumah Sakit Serdang, where he eventually passed from myocardial infarction. His is an honourable demise as not everyone is privileged to meet death while on the way to share knowledge in a distant place.

Through his preparation for this sharing, we are privy to a glimpse of what he intended to present. His paper for the conference discussed the changing landscape of global power dynamics, marked by the decline of the United States and the eventual rise of China. To him, this strategic flux confers massive opportunities for Muslim-majority countries to influence global affairs more prominently, taking a more proactive role in promoting solutions to global problems.

He proposed that Indonesia and Malaysia should promote such democratic values and concepts including dialogue, pluralism, institutions and a space for civil society to help solve ongoing conflicts in the world, drawing from their experience and experiments with the democratic system.

This is consistent with his earlier works including Politik Global Tanpa Islam? Dari Timur Tengah hingga Eropa (Global Politics Without Islam? From the Middle East to Europe), a compilation of essays on foreign affairs. Notwithstanding the prevalent perception of a democratic decline in both countries, the consistency of his messages speaks for the steadfast belief he had in democratic system.

But he was not above criticising Muslims and the Muslim world. While Islam is the fastest growing religion globally, he maintained that many Muslims lacked proper family planning, seemingly in reference to popular Islamic belief that more children equal to more fortune. Many of these Muslims live in developing or poor countries where access to quality education is limited, thus preventing these individuals from achieving their full potentials.

This contributes to a vicious circle whereby Muslim countries continue to be dependent on richer countries in the West, as developed Muslim countries invest less in their developing or poor counterparts. This state of dependency carries economic, political and psychological implications, leading people to believe that the West is merely trying to control Muslim countries while suppressing the latter’s potential. This kind of conspiracy theories shapes

Such an ability to be both optimistic of opportunities that Muslims can contribute to solving global problems while also critical of their missteps is hard to replicate. In this, two important lessons can be garnered: 1) self-criticism and 2) observation of realities on the ground

In fact, the observation of practical realities is structurally integral in the development of his thoughts and ideas, owing to his socio-historical approach and his need to balance between idealism and pragmatism. It should not be strange, thus, that Prof. Azyumardi championed ideas such as religious pluralism, tolerance and democracy, being sensible to the multicultural realities of the Indonesian society that he deeply comprehended.

Another highlight in Prof. Azyumardi’s works is his argument on Islam Nusantara, which researchers of preventing and countering violent extremism (P/CVE) must be familiar with. Islam Nusantara is a non-normative, empirical interpretation of Islam in Indonesia that reflects the sensibilities of local context, emphasising on tolerance and moderation that are essential in the country’s multicultural setting. It is a product of intense and prolonged interaction between universal Islam and Indonesia’s socio-cultural realities, far from the black and white, unidimensional and harsh version of the religion propagated by radical groups everywhere.

It is undeniable that this concept has garnered some oppositions from those who approach the subject from different angles. Those critical of it should remember that it is merely an argument in the sea of

His emphasis on the aforementioned concepts (i.e. respect, tolerance and practical realities) highlight a key virtue in his body of works. This virtue is humility, a deceptively simple quality but one that is not widely practiced by people.

Let us consider the following example. Humility is evidently a driver in Prof. Azyumardi’s argument for pluralism. A multicultural nation cannot have political, economic and social stability if a group behaves condescendingly towards the rest, believing itself to be the superior entity while disrespecting the lives of others. Nations inhabited by such groups are bound to suffer from perpetual domestic insecurity, one that prevents them from realising their full potential.

The humility leitmotif is also present in his thoughts on the modernisation of Islamic education. Prof. Azyumardi was an ardent proponent of a continuous pursuit of knowledge, which one paper interpreted as a push for lifelong learning. We need not a reminder that the vital ingredient in learning is none other than humility itself, the quality to admit that one’s knowledge remains limited and the world offers an endless volume of insights. By stressing on this interminable pursuit of knowledge, he advertently also encouraged people to continuously embody the trait of humility in the process.

This is reinforced by his conception on the objectives of Islamic education. While its ultimate objective is to produce devout Muslims who lead a good life, its transient objective pertains to instigating development and change in students’ personality, the society as well as the environment. (Here his pragmatism is in full display again). By emphasising that one’s accumulated knowledge should be beneficial to their surroundings, instead of being stuck in an esoteric realm, he essentially argued that knowledge should be accumulated with the purpose of rendering service to others, not to inflate one’s ego or sense of importance.

Prof. Azyumardi himself embodied this virtue of humility. A quick glance of his biography would inform you that he once vehemently refused M Quraish Shihab’s offer to become deputy rector of Institut Agama Islam Negeri (IAIN) Jakarta, despite his stratospheric qualifications. His reasoning was that he preferred to remain as independent scholar, though he eventually cannot say no to the great scholar himself. Ex-Minister of Religious Affairs Lukman Hakim Saifuddin also testified to this in his Instagram tribute to Prof Azyumardi.

Prof. Azyumardi may have passed but his vast wealth of knowledge continues to live on. Widely documented and easily accessible, his knowledge serves as a foundation to developing Indonesia’s subsequent generations of humble intellectuals.    To Him do we belong and to Him shall we return. Al-Fatihah.

Additional reporting by Aunillah Ahmad (Deputy Secretary of the Special Branch of Muhammadiyah Malaysia and Chair of the M

Introduction

The concern that Indonesia’s 2020 simultaneous regional elections (Pemilihan Kepala Daerah 2020, hereafter Pilkada) will breed new COVID-19 clusters have become an increasingly regular topic as the government pushes on with its 9 December 2020 schedule. Originally slated on 23 September 2020, calls to its further delay have not been entertained despite the pandemic spreading with little signs of respite. Consequently, this might not bode well to Indonesia’s image.

Elections during a Flat Curve – Does Indonesia Qualify?

To be fair, Indonesia is not the only country facing political pressures in this pandemic. Countries such as Japan, Singapore, Mongolia and Malaysia (Pahang by-election) have had to organise elections despite the trepidation over potential election clusters. Apart from Malaysia, these examples serve as indications that elections can indeed be conducted without severe consequences.

Adhy Aman pointed out that such success is largely due to these elections taking place when the infection curve was flat in these countries. If elections were held during a steep rise in the curve, the outcome would likely be undesirable. Case in point: Malaysia’s most recent election in Sabah was held while local cases were stacking up – it is now considered as the inception point of the current infection wave in the country.

Yet, this warning may likely be unheeded as Indonesia appears unfazed by the development in Negeri Jiran (neighbouring country). Unlike the examples above, Indonesia has been unable to flatten its curve with 365,24

Indonesia definitely cannot afford new clusters, as hospitals are worryingly reaching maximum capacity and over 200 medical officers have died from the virus.

In spite of that, Pilkada-linked cases have emerged long before voting day. Candidates are reported to have flouted the health protocol as early as the registration period in early September, with the Election Supervisory Body discovering 243 of such violations during this period alone. By mid-October, 67 candidates have contracted the virus while six others have died. Members of the General Elections Commission have also reportedly fallen ill from COVID-19. The risks remain prevalent as campaigning will last until 5 December.

Pushing on – “Resilience” or Other Motives?

In Malaysia, there is an interesting perception that Indonesians are resilient – they are unperturbed by any hardships they faced. Although the perception is unsubstantiated, the st

The President’s office, for example, has stated that Pilkada cannot wait until the pandemic subsides and that the constitutional rights of voters must be protected. Ministers Mahfud Md and Tito Karnavian also reinforced this stance. The former warned of a power vacuum if another delay materializes and the latter believing that Pilkada would lead the public to vote for candidates who can manage the crisis. This is akin to the People Action Party’s (PAP) narrative in the lead up to Singapore’s 2020 General Election. The ruling party has requested “the support of every Singaporean, not just to return the PAP to the government, but also give it a strong mandate, to empower it to act decisively on your behalf, and steer the country towards better days ahead.” Furthermore, PDIP and Gerindra representatives had stated that Pilkada should go ahead as the end of the pandemic is uncertain and delaying it further would risk political chaos.

Still, there could be less-altruistic motivations for not delaying Pilkada further. Expert Djohermansyah Djohan laid out five sources of pressures behind this keenness: the contesting incumbents, political parties, decision makers, the business sector and the people themselves. According to him, each of these would benefit, politically or financially, if Pilkada were to proceed. For instance, some have exploited the election momentum to obtain food and financial aids from contesting candidates.

Casting Ballot and Casting an Image

Indonesia’s handling of the situation may likely impact its image abroad. Firstly, it calls into question the commitment that the state has towards ensuring the wellbeing of the people. Despite the palpable risks to voters, election officials and the candidates, the priority to execute a political process seems to prevail. However, it must be noted that the decision makers cannot be fully faulted for not making any effort to manage the situation as Pilkada has indeed been delayed once. Numerous deliberations would have taken place to reach such a decision.

Regardless, the optics of this situation might not look positive as politics and political process are seemingly prioritized above a national crisis. This is evident as political events such as Pilkada are seemingly immune to the restrictions placed on economic, social and cultural events or activities during this health crisis. Preventing a positive optic is Indonesia’s mounting daily infection rates. This is indicative that Indonesia has yet to develop a successful strategy to mitigate COVID-19 infections in normal conditions, let alone during political processes such as Pilkada.

This could amplify angst and criticisms of the state’s capability and accountability if the people are unconvinced with the government’s effort. As seen recently, angst and criticisms in Indonesia can lead to large-scale protests. Additionally, at a time when the country is led by a development-oriented administration, it is not sending an appealing message to potential foreign investors, further casting doubts on the future of its economy and recovery plan.

Secondly, it reinforces the perception that the government’s approach to the pandemic is that of resignation. Indonesia’s COVID-19 strategy thus far has appeared to be sub-optimum, evidenced by unsound movement control regulations, half-hearted enforcements, conflicting message

The gestures an

From an Indonesian perspective, this is understandable. At 1,919,443 square kilometres of land area and with over 270 million people, Indonesia requires immense financial and human resources to enforce regulations that could keep the entire country in check.

Nevertheless, the expectation by decision makers and officials that Indonesians would abide by health protocols is also misplaced. To paraphrase Tirto.ID, if health protocols were already flouted during the quasi-lockdown period, how can we ensure that such flouting will not be repeated during Pilkada?

Anxious Wait for Indonesia

This is why the period between now and voting day would be that of suspense, as candidates embark on their campaign trails and explore ways to campaign without breaking the health protocol (or be caught breaking it).

Unfortunately, the protocol has yet to be adhered to in this early stage of campaigning as seen by the gathering of large crowds such as in Jambi. Not only are physical campaigns hard to control, candidates themselves do not serve as positive examples to their constituents on adhering to the parameters of the protocol. Examples include the candidates’ improper wearing of masks and posing with voters without observing social distancing.

The latest survey results on Indonesians’ obedience to the health protocol do not seem encouragi

Additionally, voting day would provide insights beyond the outcome of the contest – voter turnout, the readiness of voting stations to observe health protocol and the legitimacy of the results (especially in a low turnout scenario). Bear in mind that previous voting days were especially strenuous to conduct, with 894 voting officers passing away in the Presidential Election last year. Whether Pilkada-linked clusters would emerge or not would be dependent on Indonesia’s infection rates in the lead up to 9 December.

It seems that Pilkada as a political process will serve as a pressure test for the country’s professed new normal paradigm. Indonesia is a big country and a proud democracy, but the awkward situation that the pandemic has plunged it into only reminds us that its nation- and state-building processes are not yet complete.