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 children. With 4% of internet-using children in Malaysia (aged 12–17) having become victims of online sexual exploitation, we can only imagine the tales of horror these victims have experienced in the past and may continue to struggle with in the future.

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 been observed to have behaved in unpredictable ways or even rogue-like manners thanks to glitches, biases and vulnerabilities, albeit in a far less catastrophic fashion. Linked to the previous section is how AI could also be warped by certain parties to pursue less-than-altruistic goals, such as instigating cyber-attacks, online fraud and spreading hoaxes. Furthermore, it does not help that AI continues to be viewed suspiciously among certain quarters; in Singapore, for example, less than half of SMEs surveyed claimed that AI has had or will make a positive impact on their business productivity.

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 atrocities seem punishingly nihilistic for two protagonist children), Director Joko Anwar tells a story that demotes horror from the metaphysic to the mundane, one born out of social ills and heinous crimes. He showcases that personal horror does not have to be caused by ghosts and ghouls, but by simply falling victim to a terrorist or a rapist in pesantren, the latter becoming an alarmingly frequent phenomenon in Indonesia. This way, he grounded Siksa Kubur in reality.

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 of spiritual torment in grave simply rests upon his opinion that ustadz everywhere do not discuss about it. It is an example of shallow arguments that mar the more critical conversations throughout the movie.

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 pesantren owner and; 3) he feels emasculated next to his very capable sister. Whereas Sita is empowered by her anger, Adil’s trauma wrecks his life, strains his relationships (his wife leaves him) and plunges him into endless depression.

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 further reinforced afterwards, with Sita helping a spirit of Pak Wahyu’s rape victim to pass on to the afterlife, suggesting her acceptance of the metaphysics after spending years rejecting its possibility. As Sita wakes up next to Pak Wahyu’s corpse moments before it is tortured in the most unspeakable way, she screams out for help and finally seeks for forgiveness and help from God. Her arc is completed here, having transformed from a person who blames religion and God for her pain to one that accepts God’s greatness and the strange mysteries of life.

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 will inform us of the variety and frequency of social ills amidst the Indonesian society today, potentially giving birth to hundreds if not thousands of Sita and Adil every day.

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 Muslims’ resentment and hatred towards the West, trapping them in a cognitive bubble that hinders them from moving forward. Prof. Azyumardi championed that for Islamic civilization to develop, Muslims must get rid of their conspirative psychology, narrow-mindedness and excessive romanticism towards glorious Muslim civilization of the past.

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 constantly changing discourse on Islam, one that is informed by Prof. Azyumardi’s background in historiography and keen observation of the realities on the ground. In the grand scheme of things, however, one should not restrict his intellectual products in a utilitarian sense, only to be adopted when there is a need for an antithesis to radical interpretation of the religion.

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 Malaysian Muhammadiyah Student Association).

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 365,240confirmed COVID-19 cases and 12,617 fatalities at the time of writing. Further fuelling this anxiety is the fact that Pilkada 2020 will be held in nine provinces, 224 districts and 37 cities stretching from Sumatera to Papua, thus risking potential new outbreaks all over the country if risks are not minimized.

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 standpoint and attitude of lawmakers and politicians seem to reflect a degree of it.

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 messages from authorities and the general shortage of COVID-19 tests performed, among others.

The gestures and tones from the government also suggest that the state is relying on the provision of an effective vaccine that could mitigate the pandemic instead of instilling more stringent measures.

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 encouraging. Despite some positive pointers (92% of respondents claim to wear masks), the survey may not be representative of the situation in campaign trails. The findings that only 75% and 73% of respondents wash hands and observe social distancing respectively also elevate this worry over physical campaigns.

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.