Introduction

Indonesia’s political landscape has solidified following major elections last year. President Prabowo Subianto has continued his predecessor’s political consolidation strategy of sporting a big coalition of parties in the parliament, thus almost effectively neutralising any potential opposition.

This has raised concerns about the weakening of the checks and balances system, the absence of alternative policy debates and accountability.

His ability to accommodate multiple political parties from various backgrounds, including various Islamic ones, influences the makeup of his big and fat cabinet. These Islamic parties have successfully secured ministerial positions despite their opposition of one another in pre-Prabowo years. They prioritise influence and political access to power and policy making rather than disputing issues of governance, indicating a conformity with pragmatic and transactional form of politics.

This article attempts to critically examine the dynamics and future trajectory of Islamic political parties.

Decline of Votes

In the 2024 general election, Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP) only secured 3.87% of the votes, which effectively pushed them out of the legislative body for the first time (the parliamentary threshold is at 4%). Prior to this, Partai Bulan Bintang (PBB) was the last Islamic party that lost all their parliamentary seats, which happened in the 2009 election.

However, despite PPP’s decline, the remaining Islamic-based parties experienced a slight increase in votes. Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (PKB) secured 11,72% of the votes, Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (PKS) gained 9,14% and Partai Amanat Nasional (PAN) earned 8,28%. These three parties now occupy 169 out of the available 580 seats.

The decreasing number of Islamic parties in Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (DPR) could point to the dimming vibrancy of political Islam in the legislative body. This also proves that the majority of Muslim voters do not vote for Islamic parties, which comprise less than a third of all DPR seats.

For example, members of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) prefer to vote for Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (PDI-P) and Prabowo’s Gerakan Indonesia Raya (Gerindra) over PPP or PKB, to which NU has historical affiliation and attachment. A reason for this is that nationalist parties like PDI-P has attracted more NU adherents by establishing Islamic wing organisations such as Baitul Muslimin Indonesia (BAMUSI).

Pragmatic Politics

Meanwhile, new Islamic parties such as Gelora Party and Ummat Party emerged, participated and failed in the last election. Like PBB, both parties obtained a very small fraction of votes (less than 1%). This seems to point out that the appetite for new Islamic parties, instead of the more established ones, is still very low.

Based on the past trends, it is almost impossible for new parties, including non-parliamentary ones, to get plenty of votes instantly. This explains why the parties’ elites shifted and adjusted their strategy in order to survive in the current landscape. 

For example, these non-parliamentarian Islamic parties pragmatically chose to foster an alliance with Prabowo’s Koalisi Indonesia Maju (Onward Indonesia Coalition – KIM), instead of improving the cadre and internal systems.

Elites of Gelora and PBB also campaigned for Prabowo, for which they were well rewarded with strategic positions in the cabinet. PBB’s Yusril Ihza Mahendra is now Coordinating Minister of Law and Human Rights. Gelora’s Anis Matta and Fahri Hamzah are both vice ministers in different portfolios (Foreign Affairs as well as Housing and Residential Area respectively).

This is despite their parties failing to pass the parliamentary threshold.

PKB’s pragmatism is also on full display, having joined Prabowo’s KIM that later became KIM Plus, despite previously backing his rival Anies Baswedan. Prabowo later teased the party for “returning to the right path” after their accession to his coalition.

PKB was later awarded two crucial positions. Its chairman Muhaimin Iskandar now serves as Coordinating Minister of People’s Empowerment while its executive Abdul Kadir Karding functions as Minister of Migrant Worker Protection.

Similarly, Prabowo’s loyalist PAN secured nine ministerial positions, whereas PKS, which joined under the KIM Plus arrangement, obtained one.

Securing a cabinet position is significant to these parties for multiple reasons.

Firstly, it accords access to state resources which, through various means, could be utilised to strengthen their base and finance operations such as future political campaigns. By controlling a ministry or a state institution, a political party has the ability to create and distribute jobs as well as projects that keep its internal members occupied.

Secondly, it allows parties to shape policies and control programmes that align with their political agenda. Moreover, a minister’s good performance will reflect positively on their party’s public image and credibility.

Thirdly, securing top ministerial position ensures a degree of political protection from legal scrutiny and law enforcement, although this may depend on that party’s relationship with coalition leaders and Prabowo himself.

All of these suggest that Islamic parties are moving in the same direction, further casting into question the purpose of the party’s Islamic ideology and identity. Evidently, what is relevant to them now are power, access to financial opportunities and bureaucratic connections. The line between Islamic and nationalist parties has thus become blurrier. 

This strategy to “play safe” clearly aims to avoid risks of becoming an opposition. It seems that to these parties, electoral survival and political influence outweigh ideological rigidity. Consequently, however, it also contributes towards the disappearance of diverse voices and views in the political landscape, thus a symptom of Indonesia’s declining democracy.

Status Quo Yes, Opposition No

In February 2025, student protests and demonstrations erupted across big cities in Indonesia. Under the banner of Indonesia Gelap (Indonesia in Darkness), such demonstrations aimed to express public dissatisfaction with Prabowo’s policies, such as the free meal programme, budget cuts and many more. Some students were arrested by local police while others were allowed by local governments to share their opinion.

These protests reflect the public’s growing frustration towards the perceived government’s failure to deliver goods and services. Yet, despite their magnitude, Islamic-based parties remained silent.

In the last decade, PKS had actively positioned itself as the primary opposition. They had challenged government policies and advocated for the needs and aspirations of the conservative Muslims, its vote base.

However, PKS’ recent reluctance to criticise the government shows a shift in the political dynamic, one that marks the erosion of the checks and balances system as alternative voices become restricted.

Likewise, the largest Islamic organisations, NU and Muhammadiyah, might replicate the attitude of these Islamic parties, contributing to a homogenised political discourse in which dissenting views struggle to gain traction. A key figure in Muslimat NU, Khofifah Indar Parawansa, recently stated that NU will continue being a loyal supporter of Prabowo’s administration.

This situation raises concern about why more religious elites are taking part in maintaining the status quo rather than becoming an opposition.

Ideally, an opposition serves the fundamental role in any democratic system by providing scrutiny, offering policy alternatives and acting as a counterbalance to the government. Without it, policies risk being unchecked, leading to lack of accountability and potential overreach.

Conclusion

All in all, the stance of Islamic-based parties today is clear: they are close to the government and reluctant to be an opposition. Consequently, they cannot be relied on to express alternative voices and provide checks and balances against the government. This forces the people to take to the streets to express their dissatisfaction and dislike towards the government’s policies. If this trend continues, Indonesia’s democratic space would continue to shrink under the weight of political conformity, while demonstrations and online protests would become more frequent.

Actors in the current political landscape can be said to adopt the “wait and see” approach to Prabowo’s policies. It remains to be seen how Islamic political parties would react to key government agendas and legislative priorities, especially if these could affect their chance at getting re-elected in the next contestation.

Introduction

Indonesians have a popular saying about misjudging other people: kukira cupu, ternyata suhu (I thought [they are] inept, turns out [they are] experts). This adage is perfect for understanding the politics of pesantrenin the current political and digital landscapes.

For decades, Indonesianists have tended to put pesantrenin the periphery of national politics. Clifford Geertz, for instance,depicted kiai – leaders of these institutions –as cultural brokers, normally functioning as a translator of global and national vocabularies to local constituents. This localised and apolitical strategy was particularly effective in enduring the systematic oppression of Suharto’s regime against the Muslim population during the New Order era.

However, in contemporary times, there are traceable shiftsthat should raise scrutiny of whether this traditional role of kiaiis still relevant, considering many of them have become prominent players in national politics. This evidently places the institution of pesantren in an awkward position.

In other words, are kiai inept or experts in contemporary Indonesian politics?

Recent Trends

In the past few years, we have seen how kiai – and inadvertently the pesantren they are managing – play a central role in political contestations.

The victory of Ridwan Kamil-Uu Ruzhanul Ulum in the West Java 2018 Gubernatorial Election was of note. While Ridwan Kamil was quite popular in his own right for his creative movement, Uu benefitted from the political support of rural Muslims in West Java due to his status as the grandson of the founder of Pondok Pesantren Miftahul Huda in Tasikmalaya.

Former president Joko “Jokowi” Widodo replicated the same formula by picking Ma’ruf Amin, a senior kiai, as his running mate in the 2019 Presidential Election. While in most cases the support from kiai is subtle, Jokowi’s presidency showed a more coherent form of political participation of kiai in national politics.

In his final months, Jokowi even signed a presidential decree on mining concessions that enabled religious organisations – including pesantren – to profit from the community-based mining industry. Some politicians consider this as a payback from Jokowi for these organisations’ support of the Prabowo Subianto-Gibran Rakabuming Raka pair.

Meanwhile, President Prabowo appointed Gus Miftah as a Special Envoy for Religious Tolerance and Religious Infrastructure Development, a central position equal to a minister. This is yet another proof that religious leaders are now key actors in national politics, despite his very short stint in the position due to his derogatory comment against an iced tea seller that sparked a scandal.

Against this backdrop, a critical question arises. Even if kiai have become prominent political actors, have their santri benefitted equally?

Offline Life

At least two interesting events demonstrate Jokowi’s acknowledgement of the significance of santri. Firstly, in 2015 Jokowi declared 22 October as Hari Santri Nasional (National Day of Santri). Secondly, on 1 August 2024, amid all the public outcry regarding Indonesia’s democratic decline, Jokowi-Ma’ruf Amin held a mass prayer in the National Palace where all elites and government officials were required to wear the outfit of santri.

But these bear little significance to the development of santri. Unfortunately, their political participation remains limited owing to limited access to byproducts of democratisation and modernisation in Indonesia, which include the Internet and advanced technology.

My doctoral research in Miftahul Huda and Cipasung in Tasikmalaya shows that santri and pesantren continue to be influenced by traditional and rural attitudes in academic pursuit.

This is exemplified by the enduring practice to sustain prolonged, offline academic learning and training in pesantren. The reason given is mass media and ICT continue to be perceived as a weapon of cultural imperialism, a symptom of the larger urban-rural divide that will be explored below.

Furthermore, pesantren maintain the traditional mode of teaching, in which santri are required to study within close proximity of an ustadz or kiai for a long period of time. The prevailing view is that such a practice would confer barakah (blessing) that could lead santri to a fruitful and successful life.

The fact that each santri typically devotes three to 12 years of religious study full-time means that they also spend a prolonged period of time learning under pesantren’s traditional mode of teaching. While products of modernity and globalisation are frowned upon, santri nonetheless lose the opportunity to construct their political interest and worldview due to limited exposure to national and global affairs.

In contrast to all these, urban Muslims have the flexibility to attend religious sermons whenever they wish, including even via online methods. Their different lifestyle also means they can choose to pursue religious studies and interests part-time, instead of dedicating the majority of their focus and energy to these.

Consequences

If kiai insist on maintaining this offline mode of learning, it could contribute to further alienation of santri from prevailing societal discourses that typically circulate through online platforms. Two consequences are possible.

Firstly, the lack of digital access in these institutions could be harmful to santri’s future mobility in all aspects of their lives. With the looming impact of artificial intelligence in education, santri might find themselves left further behind their peers who go to conventional schools.

Secondly, santri would become politically illiterate, which would impact their strategic position as voters and as a group that represents certain political interests. In West Java alone, the Ministry of Religious Affairs counted that there were 1,054,562 santriin the 2022/2023 academic year. This is a significant figure, and yet one that various Islamic political parties cannot benefit from, as santri are not exposed to different political discourses that spread online. Worse, in elections, santri are usually expected to cast their ballots for candidates approved by their kiai, further diminishing their capability as a political actor. This would lead to a political Islam that is less vibrant despite Indonesia’s label as a “democratic” nation.

Furthermore, it is unclear how santri – in their politically diminished state – have contributed to the overall votes of Islamic political parties in national-level elections since 1999. Until 2024, these parties consistently failed to dominate the polls, despite the sizeable number of santri nationwide. This beckons further questions as to the cohesiveness of Indonesia’s political Islam as a whole, one that demands further study into santri’s voting patterns.

Urban-Rural Tension

Santri’s relative distance from modern lifestyle can be explained by the underlying tension between urban and rural Muslims, which became increasingly apparent following the emergence of Islamic revival among urban Muslims in the 1990s.

It is the byproduct of three decades of cultural politics and uneven development during the Suharto era. To secure his position against the challenge of political Islam, the ex-president employed strategies to maintain the secular and apolitical tendency of urban Muslims. The result was a systemic sidelining of Islam.

In the public space, these include policies to ban hijab in academic institutions and the mainstreaming of American popular culture in Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia (RCTI) TV station, in an attempt to depoliticise the youth.

Politically, his vehicle Golongan Karya (Golkar) also pushed aside Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (the United Development Party) as the only Islamic-leaning political party. Suharto also dissociated himself from the two biggest Islamic organisations, Nahdlatul Ulama (NU)and Muhammadiyah.

Despite this repression, rural Muslims and pesantren communities (which are typically situated outside urban centres) managed to remain as pockets where Islamic conservatism could be practised and expressed through social and cultural means.

The digitalisation in the 2000s brought about change, with Islamic finance, banking and fashion gaining popularity among the urban middle class. Driven by the democratisation and liberalisation of media, this group, which has been exposed to the American popular culture, began to synthesise modernity, religion and political interests in their worldview.

The same could not be said to rural Muslim and pesantren communities, however, where adoption of modern articles, technology, outlook and even behaviour was found distasteful. This is the same worldview that continues to influence the way pesantren are run these days, with profound consequences to santri’s digital access.

Conclusion

Returning to the popular adage of kukira cupu, ternyata suhu, it is fundamentally unfair that while kiai are the “experts” and play central roles in national politics, santri systematically remain as “inept” in national politics due to lack of exposure to societal discourses. They are also still subject to political mobilisation by their kiai.

This piece offers some constructivist answers as to why kiai insist that santri must be kept at an arm’s length from modern technologies, which thus distinguishes pesantren from other academic institutions that have been touched by modernity. While this retains the charm and appeal of pesantren to some, it could bear some consequences to santri’s political outlook and Indonesia’s political Islam in general.

Introduction

Controversial preacher Rizieq Shihab may become the top opposition figure in Indonesia’s current political dynamics after receiving his full acquittal in June 2024. Rizieq was previously slapped with a prison sentence for violating health quarantine laws during the pandemic and spreading fake news regarding swab test. 

He has maintained a relatively low profile in recent years, during which he refrained from publicly criticizing the Indonesian government and commenting on political situations.

When his followers urged him to speak up about latest political developments at an Aksi 212 (the 212 Action) reunion in 2022, he instead reminded them not to bring up the subject due to his then status as a parolee.

Despite this, there is an indication that Rizieq would switch back to his old orientation. His first statement after acquittal denotes his intention to continue da’wah (preaching) and fight corruptors. Essentially, these were his agendas before his self-imposed exile in Saudi Arabia.

Rizieq’s return to Indonesian politics is potentially significant despite his checkered image, caused by his recent imprisonment, alleged sexting scandal and a bad record in extrajudicial activities during his stint as the leader of Islamic Defenders Front (FPI).

By examining today’s political context and Rizieq’s movement, this piece aims to investigate the possibility of Rizieq’s second bloom as an opposition figure in Indonesian politics.

The Near Absence of Opposition

Rizieq’s return comes against the backdrop of an absence of significant political opposition to President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s second term. This is due to several factors.

One, the co-optation of key Islamic entities (such as Ma’ruf Amin and Nahdlatul Ulama – NU) into Jokowi’s camp, which effectively dampens any accusation that Jokowi’s regime is anti-Islam.

Two, the regime has successfully embraced former opposition figures that rode the anti-government Islamist wave in the past, such as Prabowo Subianto and Sandiaga Uno.

Three, the use of Undang-Undang Informasi dan Transaksi Elektronik (Electronic Information and Transaction Act – UU ITE) to silence critics, which has seen hundreds of individuals sent to jail.

Four, most political parties in the House of Representatives (DPR) have been absorbed into a super government coalition.

The lack of an effective opposition, whether Islamist-based or not, opens a wide array of possibility for power abuse by the government. This is reflected in the downward trend of Indonesia’s Corruption Perception Index in the past few years. Some notable cases of embezzlement, power abuse and the culture of impunity could offer a good context as to why some measures of checks and balances are direly needed.

Yet, Rizieq’s second bloom would not be without stumbling blocks. His self-imposed exile and subsequent imprisonment may have diminished a modicum of his influence. Furthermore, the banning of FPI and Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) eliminated traditional platforms that Rizieq could utilize to launch his comeback. This measure is part of the wider effort to suppress Islamist-based opposition in the last few years.

The removal of the Islamists from the equation has altered the political constellation and trends which differ greatly from the time before Rizieq’s exile. This can be demonstrated in at least two instances.

Firstly, political figures are now exempt from the “shackle” of Islamist orientation, which allowed them to explore new modes of campaign and messaging. In the 2024 presidential election, candidates optimized the use of TikTok to rollout campaigns that are free from Islam-related messaging.  

Prabowo displayed a soft and approachable side by portraying his “gemoy” (cute daddy) personae. Meanwhile, Anies Baswedan largely ditched his Islamist-based campaign and presented himself as a wise “abah” (father). Ganjar Pranowo, on the other hand, projected a humble and populist figure that suit the expectation of young voters. These are just snippets of how the absence of Islamist pressure has enabled politicians to explore other messages and options.

Secondly, it has allowed figures and entities with more secular leaning to gain traction. Rocky Gerung, Pandji Pragiwakso and the magazine Tempo are at the forefront of this, constantly criticizing the government’s policy and steps through speaking engagements and publication.

These figures have somewhat assumed the political parties’ role in providing a counterbalance to the executive branch, especially when many of these parties have not determined their position in the upcoming administration. For example, NasDem leader Surya Paloh has indicated his wish to align with Prabowo’s coalition despite having backed his rival Anies in the last election. Meanwhile, Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (PDI-P) is still trying to ascertain the best position it should assume after the loss of its candidate, Ganjar.

Too Dependent

Similarly, the biggest Islamic mass organizations, Muhammadiyah and NU, cannot be expected to assume the opposition role due to their deep involvement with Jokowi’s government.

For example, Muhammadiyah’s extensive infrastructure in various sectors, such as its vast network of educational institutions, makes it hard for the group to emerge as a critical voice due to its dependence on the government to issue permit.

Even dissenting voice from within Muhammadiyah would be undermined by the group’s leadership. Individuals such as Muhammad Busyro Muqoddas and Anwar Abbas have criticized Jokowi before, only to be responded by General Chairman Haedar Nashir’s public appreciation of Jokowi. One of his reasonings for defending Jokowi was the president’s frequent attendance at Muhammadiyah’s events.

Many of NU elites also rely on Jokowi’s administration for access to projects and power. For example, when the government changed its regulation pertaining to mining concession, NU became the first religious organization that applied for permit. Their argument was that NU needs financial injection to run its various programs and projects.

Would Rizieq Bloom Twice?

Amidst the near absence of opposition emerges a window of opportunity for Rizieq to bloom once more.

Firstly, Rizieq might use the issue of the curious deaths of six FPI members in a December 2020 shooting incident to propel his campaign against impunity and power abuse, framing it as an endeavour to seek justice for the deceased’s families.

Rizieq might capitalize on the growing public dissatisfaction at the police instigated by massive cases of abuse in the past two years alone. The Ferdy Sambo scandal, the Kanjuruhan incident and the chaotic handling of the Vina murder case were among the cases that exemplify this. This is a notable opportunity for Rizieq, whose anti-corruption stance is well documented.

How this will affect Prabowo’s administration will be something to look out for. The previously close relationship between Rizieq and Prabowo, particularly in the pre-Covid-19 years, might shift depending how Rizieq approaches his opposition role. With Rizieq’s substantial following, he might yet impose some challenges to Prabowo’s administration as well as the police.

Secondly, the upcoming Pemilihan Gubernur Jakarta (Jakarta Gubernatorial Election – Pilgub) may emerge as a perfect ground for Rizieq to relaunch his political campaign.

A caution should be placed here as the context of the upcoming Pilgub Jakarta differs greatly from the one in 2017, when double-minority candidate Basuki Tjahaja Purnama (Ahok) contested. It might not be as easy for any Islamist faction to identify their entry point this time, owing to the absence of major factors such as Ahok’s blasphemy case and double-minority status.

Hence, Rizieq’s re-entry into Jakarta politics might not be as straightforward as when Ahok was contesting. He would need to identify and exploit platforms that resonate with the people. It would also be dependent on who are running for the position this time, which at the time of writing has not been identified.

Regardless, his massive following in Pilgub Jakarta 2017 was a testament of his power of influence, even if only in the past. His will surely be a factor that candidates need to anticipate and, potentially, court. There is already a sign for this. Former Jakarta Governor Anies, a close ally of Rizieq, was seen attending the latter’s daughter’s wedding in Petamburan on 8 July 2024. This showcases Rizieq’s lingering influence.

Conclusion

Ultimately, the lack of substantial opposition or government critics is the main factor that would usher Rizieq’s second bloom. Dissatisfaction towards government and the authorities are highly palpable in social media platforms such as X, despite Jokowi’s sky-high approval rating. Rizieq has the potential to galvanize these disenfranchised voices and launch his salvo against the incoming administration and state apparatus, provided he can take advantage of the available momentum and platforms. It remains to be seen whether his former alliance with Prabowo would deter him from becoming Indonesia’s top opposition in the years to come. However, as identified above, he has all the opportunity to bloom once again.

This Year’s Ramadhan was Difficult for Malaysians

Selamat Hari Raya Aidil Fitri from Malaysia, stratsea.com.

The past few months have been terrible for Muslims all over the world, as they watched helplessly at the genocide and violence faced by fellow Muslims in Palestine, Syria, and Yemen, for example.

At the time of writing, Iran had just hit back at Israel in defence after its consulate was bombed in Syria, which saw 12 people killed. Israel’s war on Gaza just seems to expand bigger with each passing day.

Meanwhile, in Malaysia, identity politics have intensified. Socks bearing the name of Allah have caught the ire of Muslims, which saw a couple of the supermarket franchise, KK Mart, attacked with Molotov cocktails. Shoes that some people saw seemingly had “Allah” stamped on their soles have been taken off the market, despite calligraphy experts saying that there was hardly any resemblance to the word Allah.

Even an Opposition politician, Bersatu Youth Chief Wan Ahmad Fayhsal Wan Ahmad Kamal said in a post on X that Muslims should not be so paranoid as to think that everything is an act to challenge Islam.

Indeed, this year’s holy month of Ramadhan kept all of us in Malaysia on our toes.

Malaysia has in a month become a paranoid state, with non-Muslims preferring to discuss sensitive issues in private. It is the same for moderate Muslims, except that the conversation is often led by angry nationalists. The question that begs to be asked would be this: are we being overly paranoid or is our anger justified?

The “war” against non-Muslims have long been drawn, but this time around, it has become more volatile.

A Shift in the Region’s Identity Politics

Being Malay in the past decade has become even more urgent for many Malay-Muslims who feel that they truly are at siege. Israel’s war on Gaza, the way Muslims are being treated by India’s right-wing Modi government and the cultural genocide happening to Uighur Muslims have further impressed upon them that yes, Islam and Muslims are endangered, and that its people must defend the faith through any means.

As previously argued, the Malay identity supersedes almost everything else in our country – Malayness is about Malaysia’s politics, religion, governance and business.

In a significant display of cultural assertion amidst the political milieu, members of parliament from the Malay-majority provinces of Yala, Narathiwat and Pattani in southern Thailand made a striking statement during a national parliamentary session on 4 April 2024. They chose to attire themselves in the traditional Baju Melayu, symbolizing a nuanced shift in the dynamics of identity politics within the region.

This unprecedented move resonates deeply within the political landscape of Thailand, especially considering the historical emphasis on adherence to Thai identity codes, as introduced by former Prime Minister Phibun Songkhram in 1941.

This step by the seven parliamentarians aligns with their efforts to support the revitalization of Malay identity among the local community in Patani, a cause that has long been championed by grassroots movements.

Kamolsak Liwamo, a Member of Parliament representing the Narathiwat constituency, emphasized that the decision to wear the Baju Melayu during the final days of Ramadan was aimed at reshaping the government and security forces’ perceptions regarding its association with separatist activities. He is also the Chair of the Parliament’s Committee on Law, Justice, and Human Rights.

“We aim to clarify to the authorities, particularly the military and police, that wearing the Baju Melayu is a common practice within the Malay community and does not entail separatist elements,” asserted Kamolsak.

This trend coincides with efforts towards peaceful dialogue in southern Thailand between separatist factions and the Thai government, which are driven by three key factors. Firstly, the government’s willingness to facilitate the re-emergence of Malay identity. Secondly, the readiness, especially among the youth, to shape the future of Patani in the background of the peace talks. Thirdly, the concerted efforts to strengthen Malay identity, supported by various stakeholders including youth activists, NGOs, religious leaders and local political figures.

However, Dr. Ahmad Omar Chapakia, Deputy Rector of Fatoni University in Thailand, while welcoming this trend, cautioned that it should be approached with care to ensure that the surge in Malay nationalism does not impede ongoing peace processes or exacerbate sensitivities within the country.

“This is a positive development, as Malay identity previously existed under a subtext, but when the government allows an open space to manifest Malay identity, it is a significant step forward for the promotion of Malay identity,” stated Dr. Ahmad.

“However, we must pay attention to this trend because if left unchecked, it may become excessive, and I believe it is the role of politicians to ensure that this trend does not become exaggerated to the point of causing additional issues.”

The Gaza Question Lingers

On the other hand, Israel’s war on Gaza has raised temperatures among Malay-Muslims. Historically, Malaysia and its leadership has always been sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. This was especially true during Mahathir’s first premiership where he consistently expressed strident criticism against the Israeli occupation of Palestine. This sentiment is shared across both political leadership and the Malay-Muslim public.

Over the decades, the Malay-Muslim society expressed solidarity through rallies, aid and boycotts that flared up every time Israel conducted a major attack on Palestinians. This time around, this sentiment has sustained for longer due to Israel’s extended military operation in Gaza. Malay-Muslims have dug their heels deeper into the boycotts, affecting both McDonalds and Starbucks’ Malaysia’s revenue so much that it pressured both companies to appeal to Malay-Muslim consumers to stop the boycotts. Malays have also taken to shaming and denigrating other Malay-Muslims or non-Muslims who are not seen to be boycotting.

The intensity of this sentiment did not intensify in a vacuum. Since the fall of the Barisan Nasional government in 2018, Malay anxieties and fears have been incited by right-wing groups. This had led to increasingly tense relationships between Muslim and non-Muslims, based on perceived attacks towards Malay political hegemony and the sanctity of Islam. This is the backdrop that further intensifies Malay-Muslim sentiments during Israel’s war on Gaza this time around, with parallels drawn between the plight of Palestinians and the possible downtrodden future of the Malay society.

Conclusion

We all live in our bubbles, especially so when we live in Southeast Asia, far away from Gaza, Sudan and Congo, where atrocities are a daily fact of life. However, the implications of events in these far-off lands will impact us as Muslims and citizens of the countries in this region. The recent Iranian retaliation has far-reaching effects to our region, including Indonesia. In fact, all of the aforementioned controversies do.

The intensification of the Malay-Muslim community’s sentiments towards global issues affecting the Ummah has forced the government to respond to these sentiments, sometimes in unproductive ways. A recent example: the Malaysian government’s response to the community flare-up towards the KK Mart socks issue has been incredibly lukewarm.

Little has been done to rectify or moderate ties between Malaysian Muslims and non-Muslims, at the perceived cost of losing electoral support among the Malays. This is, in effect, a government held hostage by a growing far-right movement. Too afraid of moving to the middle, lest they be seen as non-committal to the Malay-Muslim cause.

If this is how the government reacts to domestic issues, it raises concern to how they may react to important issues in the region. We must be careful that the above agendas are not co-opted by parties that may misuse the cause.

Introduction

In the context of every national election that takes place in Indonesia, the participation of religious leaders – whether they are esteemed scholars or revered Sufi Masters (Murshids) – has been a recurring and notable phenomenon in the realm of practical politics.

Their roles in these political processes stem from deep reservoir of religious authority and influence they command within the Indonesian society. The pervasiveness of their influence extends far beyond the confines of mere social barriers. In fact, it is believed to permeate into the spheres of economics and politics, thereby shaping the socio-political landscape of the country.

One of the most compelling evidence lies in the dynamics of national elections, whereby political parties and candidates often seek to form alliances and partnerships with these religious figures. These collaborations are not mere symbolism but practical endeavors aimed at enhancing their vote counts in each region.

The rationale behind these partnerships is the acknowledgment of the significant sway these religious leaders hold over the electorate, especially among the Muslim community, which looks up to them for moral and political guidance.

The Power of Murshids

With such prevalent phenomenon, it is vital to recognize the normative role of Murshids. Their choices and actions are more than personal decisions; they form an initial guide for their numerous followers. Their teachings and pronouncements provide a moral compass that extends to various aspects of life, including the thorny realm of politics. Murshids’ substantial following, nourished by years of spiritual guidance and religious mentorship, translates into real and tangible political clout. In the context of democratic electoral processes, their influence emerges as a potent source of potential votes, making them an attractive asset for political aspirants seeking electoral success.

Moreover, when examining Murshids’ role from a different perspective, their charisma and magnetic appeal become pivotal attributes. In the cutthroat world of political competition, their standing as a leader with a significant following makes him an alluring figure for those pursuing power. His charm, the charisma that emanates from his spiritual and moral authority, becomes an attractive force that draws political actors to seek his favor and support. This is particularly evident in the intense “battle” for political dominance, whereby Murshids’ blessing or endorsement can carry significant weight and influence the choices and behaviors of politicians and voters alike.

It is commonly recognized that the political fatwas issued by these religious leaders, as seen through the eyes of their students and dedicated followers, maintain significant and long-lasting influence. These pronouncements are not just statements of religious doctrine; they have transcended into tools that shape political decisions and guide the behavior of individuals within the complex tapestry of Indonesian politics.

In Indonesia, the political actions of religious leaders – such as the ones we find in various religious orders (tarekat) – constitute a fascinating and intricate facet of the political landscape. These leaders wield considerable influence, particularly through religious orders with the power to mobilize their followers and sway them towards supporting a specific presidential candidate.

An illustrative example of this dynamic is the case of Shaikh Abdul Gaos, affectionately known as Abah Aos, who leads the Tarekat Qadiriyah Naqshabandiyya (TQN) Sirnarasa, one of the largest tarekats in Indonesia.

Abah Aos and His Controversy

Abah Aos’s profile shot to the forefront after a highly controversial statement regarding one of the presidential candidates, Anies Baswedan. In a public address before his devoted followers, Abah Aos declared his official endorsement of Anies Baswedan for the upcoming presidential election.

What makes this declaration particularly intriguing is the spiritual and eschatological dimensions that Abah Aos introduced into the political discourse. He proclaimed that Anies Baswedan is a figure believed to be the Imam Mahdi, a messianic figure in Islamic eschatology, who is destined to stand against Dajjal, a malevolent figure in Islamic apocalyptic narratives. This assertion intertwines religious belief with political support, transcending mere political endorsement and tapping into deep-seated eschatological hopes and beliefs of his followers.

Moreover, Abah Aos took this declaration a step further by claiming that all ulamas unanimously agreed to issue a fatwa declaring it forbidden (haram) for anyone not to support Anies Baswedan in the 2024 Presidential Election. He even said that it is forbidden not to support Anies Baswedan, likened it to supporting Dajjal.

This bold claim elevates the political discourse to an unprecedented level, intertwining religious authority, divine prophecy and political leadership. It presents a situation where a political figure is perceived not only as a candidate but as a prophesied figure, thereby transforming the presidential election into a spiritual mission for some.

The claims made by Abah Aos have sparked intense reactions from netizens across the digital realm, generating a vast spectrum of opinions, both negative and positive. This phenomenon is a reflection of the intricate interplay between religion, politics and the digital age, where information spreads rapidly and opinion-sharing is highly accessible.

Sufism, historically seen as detached from politics due to its emphasis on spiritual pursuits over worldly matters, has experienced a nuanced transformation amid modernization. Contrary to earlier assumptions, Sufism continues to attract followers across urban and rural areas, adapting to societal changes and engaging actively in practical politics.

Yet, the direct involvement of Murshids in politics, exemplified by figures like Abah Aos, can lead to theological disputes and criticism from religious circles, risking their spiritual authority and sparking concerns about social divisions.

For instance, Habib Husin Alwi said, “Referring to Anies as the incarnation of Imam Mahdi is a matter that raises suspicions of religious and racial discrimination.”

Another figure who also had an opinion on this controversial statement was Kiai Abdul Wahab Ahmad, who stated that “This is clearly incorrect because in the hadiths, it is already stated that Imam Mahdi is a descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, bearing a name and father’s name identical to that of the Prophet Muhammad. The Baswedan surname is clearly not a lineage from Prophet Muhammad. Such errors are highly significant as they represent common knowledge, and it is quite astonishing for someone claiming a religious leadership role to be unaware of this fact.”

In addition to criticism from religious figures, the controversial statement from Abah Aos has also become an easy target for buzzers to create hoaxes. For example, a a post circulating on Facebook associates Anies Yohanies (Anies) with Imam Mahdi.

Anies Baswedan’s team did not respond to the controversial statement from Abah Aos but only straightened out the hoax spread on Facebook with the response: “The problem related to the statement that Anies is Imam Mahdi is actually not an official statement and has no proven validity. The statement was originally put forward by a figure named Abah Aos which was subsequently exploited by the media, just like what happened to the hoax above. Thus, it can be confirmed that such content falls into the category of misleading content.”

The intertwining of religious authority with political endorsements, especially when tied to spiritual beliefs like the designation of a candidate as the Imam Mahdi, poses challenges. Critiques of such actions highlight potential pitfalls when religious leaders stray into contentious religious and ethnic territory, emphasizing the need for a delicate balance between religious teachings and political involvement to maintain harmony in a diverse society like Indonesia.

Abah Aos’ Political Behaviour

Abah Aos is no stranger to eyebrow-raising political behavior. He has strategically supported candidates with strong chances of winning, often favoring incumbents or those displaying potential for victory. In the 2014 Presidential Election, Abah Aos endorsed Prabowo Subianto and Hatta Rajasa but backed Jokowi in 2019 due to personal ties with Ma’ruf Amin and a belief in supporting the incumbent.

His endorsement of Anies Baswedan is not an isolated decision but rooted in guidance from his late mentor, Abah Anom. This pattern of political endorsements, including his support for Anies in the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election, illustrates the intricate relationship between religious leaders like Abah Aos and political figures. It sheds light on the intersection of faith, political strategy and personal connections in Indonesian politics, revealing the complexity behind these alliances.

Reinterpreting Abah Aos’ Statement

Abah Aos’s followers have defended his stance, interpreting his words as consistent with Islamic principles and carrying significant philosophical meaning.

Irfan Zidny al-Hasib provides a perspective on Imam Mahdi, stating that the correct interpretation of the term “Imam Mahdi” is “the Leader who receives guidance”. According to this interpretation, anyone who is deemed to receive guidance from Allah can be referred to as Imam Mahdi.

He goes on to explain Abah Aos’ reference to Dajjal, defining Dajjal as “massive deceivers”. He emphasizes that anyone who continuously spreads falsehood can be considered Dajjal. In the context of presidential elections, one might perceive supporters of other candidates as “Dajjal”.  

Of course, such interpretation is not for everyone. The controversy surrounding Abah Aos’s statements reflects the complex interplay between religious beliefs, political endorsements and varying interpretations of Islamic principles. It highlights how different individuals can interpret religious teachings in diverse ways and how these interpretations can influence their political choices and allegiances. The example provided by Irfan Zidny al-Hasib illustrates the interpretive flexibility within Islamic teachings and how these interpretations can be applied to contemporary political contexts.

Conclusion

Religious leaders in Indonesia, such as Abah Aos, wield significant influence and often endorse political candidates. This influence stems from their spiritual authority and the trust of their followers. With his considerable following, Abah Aos may be trying to influence the decision for the undecided voters among his followers.

However, Abah Aos’ open support did not significantly increase Anies Baswedan’s electability for. Indikator noted that the support base of Islamic organizations for Anies Baswedan remains at 13.8% despite Abah Aos’ endorsement.

Furthermore, Abah Aos’ claim that Anies Baswedan is the Imam Mahdi sparked both support and criticism. While some followers defended his interpretation of religious concepts, others, including religious figures, condemned it as unorthodox and divisive. This case highlights the complex interplay between religion, politics and personal beliefs in Indonesian society.

Introduction

Unlike the previous presidential election in 2019, the echo of Islamist populism is almost completely inaudible ahead of the 2024 Presidential Election in Indonesia, which will be held on 14 February 2024.

Five years ago, the Islamist populist movement was drummed up by Gerakan Nasional Pengawal Fatwa Majelis Ulama Indonesia (the National Movement to Safeguard the Indonesian Ulema Council’s Edict – GNPF-MUI), the 212 Alumni and Islamic Defender Front (FPI). All of these groups played a significant role in campaigning for Prabowo Subianto and Sandiaga Uno for the country’s top posts. The two figures were perceived to be capable to protect Muslim’s interests and bring Islamic agenda to the governance realm.

The movement’s successes in contributing to the downfall of ex-Jakarta Governor Basuki Cahaya Purnama (Ahok) and paving the way for Anies Baswedan’s election victory in the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election became their selling point that attracted the Prabowo-Sandi pair to engage them ahead of the presidential election two years later.

Therefore, it is peculiar that in 2024, the movement has largely fallen silent, at least in the public space. Where is it now and does it still play a vital role in the upcoming national vote?

The Power of Islamist Populism

Ahok’s blasphemy case that precipitated his political bane serves as an obvious sign of how religious issues could shape voter’s behavior. Religion, in this context Islam, is useful in driving public demand for populist political and social agendas.

The 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election shows that religion and religious identity can be readily exploited to create divisions within the Indonesian society, drawing a dichotomy between “the pure people” of faith and the “evil” or “corrupt” people who are outside the circle of the faithful.

Anies’ engagement with the populist Muslim groups has also been used by several populist leaders in various countries such as Narendra Modi, Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Imran Khan. They may all be considered “religious populists” insofar as their utilization of religious discourse to not merely construct what constitutes “the people”, but to actively create a more religious society in conjunction with religious authorities and/or religious organizations.

For example, Modi wears saffron to connect with the deeply religious Hindu masses through the sacred color. Erdogan has repeatedly used firebrand rhetoric laced with religious undertones in championing oppressed Muslims across the world. Imran Khan, in a similar manner, talks about Muslim victimhood under the pressures of Islamophobia, whilst making a show of carrying prayer beads as a sign that he is constantly seeking divine help during his “trials and tribulations”.

The momentum for the rise of Islamic populism was hereinafter harnessed by Prabowo, chairman of the Gerindra Party, who previously supported Anies’ candidacy in the 2017 Jakarta vote. Probowo once again incorporated them in his campaign for the 2019 national vote. However, he was not as successful as Anies was, as Prabowo was bested by incumbent President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo.

Scholars have conducted many academic studies related to the populism movement in general. There are at least four specific conditions agreed upon by scholars that most give rise to the emergence of populism in a government.

First, pre-existing religio-racial, regional, or class divisions. Second, the politicization of socio-economic inequalities within the framework of those divisions. Third, the availability of minorities as mobilizing targets for populist campaigns. Fourth, the willingness of established parties to support populists in order to retain political significance.

Aksi 411, Aksi 212, the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election and the 2019 Presidential Election all provide precedents of the rise of Islamic populism in Indonesia. The successful exploitation of Ahok’s blasphemy case, which first emerged in 2016, reverberated all the way to the 2019 national vote, a testament of how powerful it was, even if it ultimately failed to deliver victory to Prabowo.

The Quiet Today

It has been argued before that religious populists are “populist leaders/parties/movements with close links to organized religion, and which have a religion-based political program influenced by Holy Books and theology.” Therefore, religious populists, in Indonesia’s context Islamist populists, always have political agendas to oversee the implementation of Islamic values in state governance.

However, in the upcoming presidential election, their voice is eerily quiet and they do not feature heavily, if at all, in the campaigns of two presidential candidates that previously engaged them. This is because the momentum of Islamic populism has waned, in addition to the different political strategies pursued by the presidential candidates.

Prabowo now has massive political capital drawn from the sizeable party coalition supporting him and the perceived “indirect support” from Jokowi, after agreeing to put the latter’s son Gibran Rakabuming Raka in his ticket. Islamist populists have also grown wary of Prabowo in the past years, owing to Prabowo’s willingness to be coopted into Jokowi’s cabinet as Minister of Defense.

Anies, on the other hand, still accommodates this element, albeit to a limited extent. This can be seen from the appointment of Yusuf Martak, Chair of the GNPF-MUI, as a member of his national campaign team (tim sukses – success team). Although Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (Prosperous Justice Party – PKS), a champion of Islamic populism, makes up the coalition that backs Anies, their influence is moderated by the inclusion of Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (National Awakening Party – PKB). With PKB Chairman Muhaimin Iskandar in Anies’ ticket, the camp is set to incorporate more traditionalist-moderate undertone. In one of the interview sessions, Anies openly admitted that Muhaimin’s appointment could garner him support from voter bases which he had yet to control.

It remains to be seen how the inclusion of PKB and PKS under Anies’ banner could work in the long-term. Needless to say, PKB’s base – traditionalist-moderate Muslims – does not necessarily jive with Islamist populist actors, particularly because of the traditionalist vs modernist debate that is deeply rooted in Indonesian society. Populist actors – comprising many urban Muslims – feel that traditionalist groups are perpetrators of heresy. On the other hand, traditionalist groups consider that modernists are newcomers to the religious scene in Indonesia who are disrupting the establishment and status quo that they have enjoyed so far.

Perhaps due to this uncomfortable mixture, the Islamic populism tone in Anies’ camp does not flourish the way that it did last time. It would not work for him if he were to play this card anyway. Firstly, Anies has had trouble to shake off his image as the “Father of Identity Politics”, which may have put a distance between him and voters from other backgrounds. Secondly, drumming up this sentiment would lose him the support from PKB. It would be interesting to see if this arrangement is sustainable in the future, especially if Anies were elected as president.

More interesting is the contest to win Nahdlatul Ulama’s (NU) vote and support, which PKB supposedly represents in the political space, though recent dynamics suggest discord between the two. Incumbent Vice President Ma’ruf Amin managed to galvanize NU’s vote back in 2019, a contributing factor to Prabowo’s loss, whom then was supported by Islamist populists.

Today, NU’s vote might be divided among all three candidates. Anies’ running mate is Muhaimin, PKB’s chairman. Prabowo’s camp recently received a boost from Khofifah Indar Parawansa, a powerful figure in NU’s women wing (Muslimat). In addition, Ganjar Pranowo is paired with Mahfud MD, a popular figure often portrayed as a Nahdlatul Ulama cadre.

Both Muhaimin and Mahfud have evidently vied for the sympathy of NU supporters, often quoting wisdom and statements by NU leaders in official debates. They have also quoted Qur’anic verses, in addition to stating that they went to NU pesantrens, in obvious attempt to showcase their affiliation with the NU community. This only goes to suggest that Islamic populism is currently not a political currency being exploited by the key players.

From the description above, we can understand why the voice of populist Islam does not resonate in the 2024 Presidential Election. The movement has less bargaining power in Indonesia’s political context today, compared to the roles played by Erdogan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) in Turkey and the Muslim Brotherhood (Ikhwanul Muslimin) in Egypt. While the former has established strength in the structural-governmental realm, the latter has strong roots as a cultural-mass organization.

Conclusion

In the past, Indonesia had witnessed how Islamist populism featured heavily in political contestations. While it was effective as a political capital in 2017, it fell short of delivering victory to Prabowo in 2018. In 2024, due to various social and political changes, the role of identity politics seems to have declined. There are at least three reasons for this. First, the Islamist populists’ disappointment with Prabowo who joined Jokowi’s cabinet. Second, Anies, a key figure in Islamic populism, coopts PKB as the traditionalist group, which is often at odds with the tenets of Islamist populist movement. Third, key players in the election are prominent individuals with NU background, which means the Islamic populism influence is largely marginalized in today’s context.

Introduction

Over the past few years, many politicians, activists, preachers, academicians, influencers, “opinion leaders” and cyber troopers in Malaysia have been active in drumming up Muslim insecurity and the narrative of “Islam under threat”. Such a threat arguably comes from non-Muslims, liberal Muslims, the LGBT community, migrant workers and as anything perceived as “un-Islamic”. Sometimes, labels such as penjajah (colonizers), pendatang (outsiders), kafir (infidels) and musuh Islam (enemies of Islam) have been used to describe these threats as well.

Such right-wing activists have used various social media platforms to manufacture perceptions and mobilize sentiments. Even though sometimes the factual basis of their argument is questionable, the narratives of “Islam under threat” and “Malay being sidelined” are widely circulated online and even reported and debated in mainstream media.

Such sentiments partly contributed to the solid electoral gains of Perikatan Nasional (PN) in recent elections, thanks to its positioning as a coalition that can “unify and defend Malay Muslims”. These gains were often attributed to the “green wave”, which is often equated with some kind of Islamization. However, as we understand it, it is more the culmination of a right-wing majoritarian moment composed of Malay nationalist and Islamist forces.

This article argues that efforts to understand the green wave must not overlook the social media dimension.

The Right-Wing Playbook

It is impossible for the researcher to get an “objective” view of why voters vote a certain way, as those are complex decision-making processes. In our observation, however, the green wave needs not just to be about voting patterns, but rather politics as experienced by Malaysian voters through social media.

It was reported that 74% of Malaysians get their news from social media, which is even higher than Indonesia, India and the United States,. Such development occur in parallel with certain urbanization trends, like high smartphone ownership (96.7%); long working and commuting hours (especially for the working class and those in the rider economy) that increases social media immersion; and gated and high-rise living communities that often limits one’s exposure to political content mostly via our screens.

Hence, social media necessarily becomes the primary medium where sequestered Malaysian voters experience politics. That means they also experience the wave of hate propaganda, half-truths and downright misinformation that comes with it. There is no understanding of the green wave without an honest reckoning of these elements.

In many ways, we witness a relatively common right-wing playbook in Malaysia – political entrepreneurs claiming that the elites ignore ordinary people’s voices and that minority groups are threatening the majority’s (heterosexual, working-class Malay Muslims) rights. As in the United States, India and Brazil, these appeals have cross-cutting appeal as they wrap the anti-liberal, anti-minority and anti-establishment discourse as one, with the moral critique appealing more to conservative middle-class religiosity. Meanwhile, the elite-shunning discourse appeals to those who perceive themselves marginalized in their “own country”.

Therefore, it is useful to think of Malaysia’s green wave as more of a kind of majoritarianism: majoritarian groups urging the majority to vote and support the parties that could protect the majority. To make this political “movement” work, efforts to manufacture Malay-Muslim insecurity must first bear fruit. Such is evident in right-wing online activism in recent time.

The Jom Ziarah incident could serve as a case study, in which pro-PN influencers, conservative preachers, right-wing activists and right-wing news portals accuse the interfaith program involving Muslims visiting a church as an event with a “Christianization agenda”. What this incident reveals is a pattern of “viralling” that strings together many right-wing political entrepreneurs, who circulate similar accusations in different formats (be it short videos, posters or text messages) across various platforms – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, online portals and WhatsApp groups. It is a kind of synergy that involves mainstream PN politicians and ostensibly “non-partisan”, albeit right-wing, social influencers. Within days, the Ministry of Youth and Sports shelved the program. Such an incident is not an isolated case; it has repeatedly happened in recent years. The government’s capitulation not only accords PN with political points, but also creates the kind of in-group/out-group rigid boundaries that are necessary to sustain the undertones of Malay-Muslim majoritarianism – that the threat is coming from the non-believers.

Most commentators focus on PN’s TikTok campaign during GE15 but we argue that such social media activism to manufacture Malay-Muslim insecurity has been ongoing since as far back as 2018, with many different right-wing actors in play.

This article will highlight two groups who often spearhead these campaigns of insecurity. The first is Ikatan Muslimin Malaysia (ISMA) and ISMA-linked social media accounts in mainstreaming right-wing discourses. The second is PN, especially Parti Islam Se-Malaysia’s (PAS) social media campaigns in the recent elections.

ISMA

ISMA, a right-wing Islamist organization known by scholars as non-violent extremists for their extreme xenophobia, is a key purveyor of these insecurity and hate-filled discourses. ISMA activists often employ a strategy of spreading fake information to stir racial and religious sentiments. For example, during the first Pakatan Harapan (PH) administration in 2019, former ISMA President Aminuddin Yahaya claimed that there was a stamp collection with photos of churches – claiming it was a “Christianisation” agenda and an attempt to “bully Islam”. In fact, this stamp collection of various worship places was released in 2016, before PH came into power. Such an incident is not an isolated case; Aminuddin Yahaya has been constantly active on his social media accounts in exposing events and individuals that he thinks pose a threat to Islam in Malaysia.

ISMA also use a variety of proxies so that their more aggressive, exclusivist campaigns can be separated from the group’s other “dakwah” activities. Gerakan Pengundi Sedar (Voter Awareness Movement – GPS) is one of the most active ISMA-linked social media accounts. During GE14, ISMA launched GPS, a campaign that urged Muslims to vote for calon Muslim berwibawa (credible Muslim candidates) who uphold the Malay-Muslim agenda. In the aftermath of GE14, GPS became an active Facebook fan page and later also a TikTok page which constantly posts so-called “un-Islamic” incidents and propagates the perception that “Islam is under threat”. It also calls for “the Malay unity” to fight against “the enemies of Islam”.

For example, amidst the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) controversy in 2018, a GPS Facebook post pointed out the dangers of ICERD ratification on Malay rights. Various individuals, groups and media outlets linked to ISMA have also actively propagated similar messages online and mobilized Malay-Muslims to join the anti-ICERD rally on 8 December 2018.

ISMA’s deep involvement is unsurprising, as Aminuddin Yahaya was the chairperson of two coalitions of NGOs that were leading the anti-ICERD protest. Whereas political parties such as PAS and the now-in-government United Malays National Organization (UMNO) lent their support to the rally, they were happy to let NGOs like ISMA be the face to make the movement look more “spontaneous” and “organic”.

GPS also constantly urges Muslims not to vote for kafir. One GPS Facebook posts criticized both PH and Barisan Nasional (BN) for fielding a non-Muslim in a Muslim-majority seat during the 2021 Melaka State Election (a criticism the page repeated often). Despite its negative connotations, the page habitually uses the term kafir to refer to non-Muslims.

This group parallels the effort of an ISMA-linked political party, Barisan Jemaah Islamiah Se-Malaysia (BERJASA), which calls for “Vote Muslim First” in its campaigns. During GE15, BERJASA is part of Gerakan Tanah Air (GTA), which upholds the idea of a Malay-Muslim-dominated political coalition by fielding zero non-Muslim candidates. This shows that being a far-right group, ISMA holds a much more exclusivist stand as compared to Bersatu, PAS and UMNO, which are still willing to work with other non-Malay parties such as the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), MIC (Malaysian Indian Congress) and Gerakan.

TV Pertiwi is another ISMA’s media outlet – it has an online portal with social media accounts on various platforms. TV Pertiwi is located in the same premise as ISMA in Bangi, while TV Pertiwi’s chairperson, Norzila Baharin is also the vice chief of ISMA’s women wing. This online portal has been constantly perpetuating perceptions that minority groups such as ethnic Chinese, liberals and LGBTs are taking over the political power in Malaysia. In August this year, its official TikTok account was removed because it repeatedly violated the platform’s community guidelines while its website was rendered inaccessible from certain providers.

Earlier in the year during the 2023 State Elections campaign, at least two TikTok short video clips produced by TV Pertiwi were widely spread across social media platforms by pro-PN activists and influencers.One of them accused the potential seat re-delineation of reducing the power of ethnic Malay and turning Malays into a minority on their land. Another one exposed the perceived drastic increase in the number of Chinese migrants and tourists, which might turn Malaysia “from a Malay land to a Chinese land”. These videos all had thousands of shares.

Such narratives are common among ISMA activists as they have focused on reports of Chinese influx and settlement, using them to warn that Malaysia could be the next Palestine or Xinjiang. In doing so, they effectively masked their Sinophobia using an imported language of settler colonialism that enjoys strong resonance locally due to local support of the Palestinian cause.

Another controversial video that was widely circulated to attack PH’s inability to “defend Islam” is an allegation that more than 200 religious schools are being closed down in Selangor. ISMA-friendly Samudera and PAS-owned Harakahdaily are amongst the online portals sharing such news, later being made into video clips circulated on TikTok by various right-wing activists, such as Izzat Johari.

PAS

In recent elections, PN, especially PAS, had used a network of party activists, influencers and preachers to spread similar messages of “Islam under threat” across various social media platforms, especially on TikTok. To be fair, PAS’ election campaign messages came in different forms and contents to target different audiences. Nevertheless, race and religion are central to their campaign. Whereas – perhaps with the exception of Ustaz Hadi Awang – PAS preachers and influencers do not always deploy fiery rhetoric, there are signs of radical rhetoric where the “enemies of Islam” discourse has intensified in their messaging. Many of these rhetoric also borrowed from ISMA’s talking points, which are usually on the far-right domain whereby non-Muslim Malaysian are often portrayed as colonial collaborators, or that there are conspiracies to “sinicize” and “secularize” Malaysia.

Like above-mentioned ISMA’s anti-kafir stands, some PAS TikTok influencers and pages urged Muslims not to vote for kafir, further popularising a term with exclusivist connotations. In a popular TikTok clip during the GE15 election campaign (with 587.1k views), the winner of Malaysia Ameerah Influencer Award (PAS’ young women wing) Puteri Syahira urged Muslims not to choose kafir as their leaders.

During the 2023 State Election campaign period, a TikTok video by SiswaPN (university student wing of PN) stated that “Apa hukum tidak mengundi? Kita tak undi, jadi menang kafir harbi lebih mudah merosakkan agama kita…” (What’s the downside of not voting? The kafir harbi [non-believers who should be fought] will destroy our religion).

As we observed in a pro-PAS WhatsApp group, there were many videos being circulated to stimulate siege mentality among Malay-Muslims that kafir, pendatang or penjajah would take over the country if the Chinese-majority Democratic Action Party (DAP) continues to be in power.

Pro-PAS preachers play an important role in mainstreaming PAS majoritarian messages. Preachers such as Ustaz Abdullah Khairy, Ustaz Azhar Idrus and Ustazah Asma Harun all have huge followings on social media, with more than 1 million followers on TikTok. They frequently give talks at various religious functions. Many also run various business enterprises, from restaurants to fashions, from pilgrimage tours to religious counselling. Such a combination of religious credentials, business networks and social media followings allows them to exercise influence among the broader Muslim public, especially those who are pious but not necessarily PAS members. Their preaching contents mainly focus on religious messages and moral advice. Nevertheless, occasionally, and especially during the election periods, they are not shy about their political inclinations – directly or indirectly urging their followers to vote for political parties and candidates who can “defend Islam”. Some preachers are widely known for being affiliated to PAS, such as Ustaz Azhar Idrus and Ustaz Ahmad Dusuki. Others downplay or conceal their connections yet subtly endorse the party, such as Ustaz Khairy Abdullah and Ustazah Asma Harun.

During the GE15 campaign period, a TikTok video entitled “Going to vote? Listen to what they say first!” went viral, with more than 400k likes and 73k shares. Although the original post is no longer available now, the video is still available on TikTok. The video featured speeches of three popular preachers – Ustaz Wadi Anuar, Ustaz Azhar Idrus and Ustaz Khairi Abdullah. In sum, they alleged that “Islam is being bullied” and there are “enemies of Islam”, thus Muslims should vote for the party that can uphold Islam.

To reach out to broader young Malay voters, some pro-PN influencers also use elements of popular cultural and fun contents to mainstream right-wing messages. One of them is DD Chronicle, who has more than 781.3k followers on TikTok. On his TikTok, he makes many parody sketches and cover songs, subtly urging Malay Muslims to vote PN. One of his viral songs, a cover of Siti Nurhaliza’s Nirmala with amended lyrics, received more than 100k likes and 22k shares. The lyrics of the song captures the scaremongering tactics, with the influencer singing “the Malays will end up being squatters (menumpang) in their own land…tuan (owners) only in name”.

In these discourses, one witnesses a negative campaign strategy, whereby calls to vote (see Hadi Awang’s exhortation that voting is mandatory and Muhammad Sanusi’s warning of Malaysia being “colonised”) are paired with existential stakes. These political entrepreneurs constantly evoke apocalyptic scenario for Islam and Muslims if PN loses the election (which did not happen, although proving a negative is almost impossible). The real concern for Malaysian democracy is that such ostensible subscription to electoral norms is part of a dark participation, whereby uncivil activities that ranges from misinformation to hate campaigns and to cyberbullying only erodes long-term trust and functioning of democratic institutions.

Conclusion

Even as the post GE-14 political landscape witnessed the fragmentation of Malay-Muslim political allegiances, we might be seeing a consolidation of a range of right-wing actors and electoral support under a broader banner of Malay-Muslim majoritarianism. The creation of this banner cannot be divorced by a strong online counter-public revolving around the theme of Malay insecurity, with viralling networks amplifying right-wing majoritarian voices and mainstreaming populist ideals and fringe theories. The campaign capitalizes on the existence of algorithmic enclaves; a critical mass of conspiracy theories circulated even by urbane, middle-class internet users and; the amplification of crisis discourses whereby a slew of right-wing political entrepreneurs (no matter their political allegiances) will keep bouncing off on the same “anti-minorities” content to create waves of discontent. With hate speech and misinformation mainstreamed at such volume, efforts aimed at preserving free speech without regulation and “fact-checking” without proactive measures seem increasingly out-of-sync with present challenges.

Islamist Feminism in Indonesia

Islamist feminism has become increasingly visible and popular in Indonesia. It possesses a great potential to shape the country’s political landscape in ways that are yet to be fully understood since they have only gained significant momentum in recent years, especially compared to the conventional, predominantly male Islamist movement.

As Indonesia is gearing up for the presidential election in 2024, examining how Islamist feminism may influence the political dynamics in this country is timely and of utmost importance. 

The emergence of Islamist feminism was first observed in the Middle East and North Africa in the 1940s when women started to assume political roles openly within male-dominated societies. As opposed to Islamic feminism, which concentrates on reviving the feminist discourse within the Islamic paradigm through challenging masculinist hermeneutics, Islamist feminism moves one step ahead by carrying such ideas into the political sphere through activism and advocacy.

Moving beyond the former’s intellectual debates surrounding religious reinterpretations, the latter plays an active role in introducing such discussions to the sociopolitical space as the alternative understanding of the role of women in Islam. In other words, the difference between Islamic and Islamist feminism lies very much in the presence of political activism.

Islamist feminism in Indonesia is not necessarily a new phenomenon as it had started to flourish after the fall of Soeharto’s New Order regime in 1998 through the then-rising Tarbiyah movement.

In contemporary Indonesia, Islamist feminist movements have become even more prevalent and thus deserve further evaluation. Its role and involvement encompass issues concerning women’s rights and freedom of expression while at the same time trying to fit such themes within the Islamic framework. 

Although this may sound attractive to many Muslim women, Islamist feminism has the possibility to cause sectarian tensions among Muslims in Indonesia as its ideology may sound too progressive, if not heretical, for many male-dominated Islamist groups.

In addition, Islamist feminism may also face a repudiation from the traditional female Islamist groups, which conform to the patriarchal interpretation of women’s roles and responsibilities. Nevertheless, the speed of its growth and popularity suggests a promising place for this movement in Indonesian politics.

Islamist feminism has its ideology, goals and strategies that have future implications for Indonesia. Its followers perceive Islamic values inherent in Islamist feminism as a means to embed morality in politics, which are also useful to combat corruption and promote social justice. More importantly, it provides ample political space for Muslim women, who often see themselves as a marginalized political segment, to express their political interests. 

Significance and Potential Impact

Defining Islamist feminism loosely as a movement that advocates for women’s rights and empowerment within the context of Islam has brought us to several instances, including Yayasan Fahmina, Rahima, Nasyiatul Aisyiyah, Fatayat, Alimat, and Tarbiyah group.

Yayasan Fahmina, Rahima and Alimat claim to be independent and non-governmental.  Meanwhile, Nasyiatul Aisyiyah and Fatayat are affiliated with the two biggest Islamic groups in Indonesia, Muhammadiyah and Nadhlatul Ulama (NU), respectively. On the other hand, the Tarbiyah group is a female operational wing of the Islamist political party, Prosperous Justice Party (PKS).

The truth is that those Islamist feminist organizations frequently intermingle as their visions and missions are somewhat aligned. It then makes more sense that their roles and activities are intertwined since they all fight for similar causes. For example, many Islamist feminist organizations are involved in the periodic gatherings held by the non-partisan Kongres Ulama Perempuan Indonesia (Indonesia Women’s Ulema Congress – KUPI) to discuss issues pertaining to gender mainstreaming to Islam. 

It is also crucial to note that NU and Muhammadiyah have announced a neutral political position for the upcoming 2024 presidential election. Regardless of the neutrality, their association with the Islamist feminist movements amplifies the latter’s significance in Indonesian politics, specifically in the forthcoming election.

Such an alliance, while adding to the growing influence, visibility and popularity of Islamist feminism, will also paint this movement as a credible agency to mobilize the masses and persuade a substantial portion of the electorate. On many occasions, Islamist feminist organizations have effortlessly gathered public sentiments by emphasizing religious and social values. Therefore, they are able to shape the political discourse that prioritizes women’s role in family, education, morality and social welfare. 

Revisiting the Neutrality Claim

There are two highlighted arguments with regard to the Islamist feminists’ political impact on the 2024 Indonesian presidential election.

Firstly, due to the nature of Islamist feminism, this movement is expected to support the presidential candidate who works towards encouraging the active participation of women in sociopolitical space, strengthening emancipation and enhancing women’s political representation. The first point helps to deliver valuable insight into which candidate is perceived to be the most capable of guaranteeing such pursuits.

Secondly, they will likely vote for the candidate who is favored by their affiliated Islamic organizations. This second one, however, offers us the opportunity to revisit, if not to problematize, the idea of “neutrality” by NU and Muhammadiyah. 

Three candidates are currently expected to run for the Indonesian presidential election next year. Anies Baswedan is primarily supported by the National Democratic Party (Nasdem) and other coalition parties. Ganjar Pranowo hails from the Indonesian Democratic Party for Struggle (PDI-P), which coalition consists of both parliamentarian and non-parliamentarian parties. Lastly, Prabowo Subianto from the Great Indonesian Movement (Gerindra) party boasts the biggest coalition size (at 261 seats) while also receiving support from non-parliamentarian parties.

To obtain a sufficient understanding of the competing political parties within the context of this article, we may have a look at some surveys done between 2017 and 2018 by Lembaga Survei Indonesia (LSI) that reveal several useful findings, among all on how Islamist they are, in which political spectrum their ideologies are based, and demographics of their followers.

According to the survey, Gerindra is the most Islamist and has greater room for political Islam to thrive among the three parties. In terms of the political spectrum, Gerindra’s ideology has placed it on the right wing, widely known to be conservative. Interestingly, the highest number of Muslim followers is found in PDI-P, which happens to be the third most secular party in Indonesia. PDI-P is also the most popular among female followers. For such counterintuitive outcomes, it is still difficult to predict which contesting party will accumulate the most support from the Islamist feminists at this juncture. 

The subsequent layer to examine is the individual candidates themselves, primarily on the image they sell to win the hearts of potential voters. In his book The Media and Modernity: A Social Theory of the Media, John B. Thompson, a Professor of Sociology, provides an extensive discussion of what he believes is the most influential embodiment of political communication, which is personalization of politics. In this process, political parties reconsider stepping back to perform only as a background and instead emphasize individual representatives triumphing over public sentiments. This win-win strategy enhances the political significance of the candidates while ensuring victory for the parties. 

Notwithstanding the parties’ religious ideologies and political spectrum, Anies, Ganjar and Prabowo have depicted excellent political personalization to the public by constructing certain images on television and social media. Anies’ Instagram account is mainly filled with community engagement, public talks, grassroots participation and snippets of religious personal life. It is comparable with Ganjar’s digital image-building, except he substantiates the interfaith element in his public engagement. Meanwhile, Prabowo’s social media posts are distinguishable from the other two as they mostly portray meetings with the officials and political elites, somehow suggesting more impactful actions, if not an inherent distance from the people.  

In August 2023, Indikator Politik Indonesia released a survey on the electability of the three candidates among Indonesian Muslims. It indicates that Prabowo holds over 50% of the votes, followed by Anies and Ganjar. It is intriguing to see how Prabowo is highly favored by Indonesian Muslims when he does not project himself as an Islamic puritan.

His followers may actually buy into the ideology of his party or the fact that it receives a tremendous backup from the two well-known right-wing parties, the Party of Functional Groups (Golkar) and the National Mandate Party (PAN). In this case, the public seems to put more weight on Gerindra than Prabowo. If this is true, it will put the political personalization theory discussed earlier in a compromised position.

Undermining political personalization through fronting political parties leads to revisiting the neutral stance of NU and Muhammadiyah in the presidential election. Since many Islamist feminist communities operate under NU and Muhammadiyah, they naturally support political parties with the strongest connection to these two giant establishments.

In September 2023, LSI disclosed its most recent survey result that PDI-P is the most favored by NU among the three contesting parties, with Nasdem being the last. It is speculated that for this very reason, Anies has become the first among the three candidates to officially announce Muhaimin Iskandar, the chairperson of the National Awakening Party (PKB), an NU-pioneered political entity, as his vice-presidential nominee. 

As for Muhammadiyah, its close affinity with PAN may benefit Prabowo in amassing electoral votes. It is now easier to forecast that the Islamist feminist movements and their followers will support their two most preferred candidates, Ganjar Pranowo and Prabowo Subianto, followed by Anies Baswedan.

The forecast can nonetheless be inaccurate, especially since Anies has secured an NU-based vice president. This dynamic underlines the roles of NU and Muhammadiyah in influencing electoral votes in the Indonesian presidential election. Visualizing them as neutral agencies may obliterate their protracted political involvement and deny their political impact. 

Islamist Feminism in Indonesia’s Future

As a Muslim-majority country with multifarious segments in its society, Indonesia has long relied on the principle of “unity in diversity” to safeguard the wholeness of its nationhood. Even though Islam plays a powerful role in Indonesian politics, it must harmoniously interact with broader religious and social elements in the country. The rise of female Islamist movements is part of global development that should be embraced as a political reality in today’s society.

Islamist feminism will inevitably affect Indonesian politics in many possible ways that must be further examined. The process of its interaction with various political and religious ideologies in Indonesia deserves a comprehensive evaluation as it concerns oneness, harmony and social cohesion in the country. Understanding their goals, strategies and potential consequences in the 2024 presidential election is essential for voters as well as policymakers as they navigate the evolving political landscape in Indonesia.

Introduction

The ‘Green Wave’ has been used to describe the significant electoral gains made by Perikatan Nasional (PN, The National Alliance) in Malaysia’s 15^th General Elections in November 2022 and the recent state elections in August 2023. It is an elusive term, not least due to the political motives behind its employment. In this article, we will argue that the Green Wave does not suggest a product of Islamisation per se, but, rather, the culmination of a right-wing majoritarian moment composed of Malay nationalist and Islamist forces.

Differentiating Majoritarianism and Islamisation

At this point, it is worth revisiting some of the differences between right-wing Malay Muslim majoritarianism as a political force and Islamisation as a socio-cultural process. To be sure, both are multifaceted processes intersecting in many ways. Discerning such differences helps avoid the trap of thinking that more Islamisation alone will, by default, lead to a larger ‘green wave’. We argue that there are four differences.

First, the making of this right-wing Malay Muslim majoritarianism cannot be separated from the broader right-wing turn of the Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS). Whereas PAS had its radical phase in the 1980s, the current more exclusivist PAS is actually a turn away from its ‘Islam for all’ phase when it was with the Pakatan Rakyat (PR, People’s Alliance) coalition. A number of precipitating events led to such a shift, including the death of the influential figure of Tok Guru Nik Aziz and the exodus of the so-called ‘Erdogan’ faction that formed the party of Amanah.

Second, while signalling growing religious observance, the increasing demand for a halal economy is still a relatively inclusive process. For example, many non-Malays and non-Muslims are key pushers of the halal market. The right-wing majoritarian turn only happened in recent years with campaigns like ‘Buy Muslims First’, which has a latent exclusivist element with its non-Muslim boycotting undertones. What these right-wing actors seek is not just the moral purification of the economy but also Muslim dominance in it. This emphasis on dominance extends to political campaigns championing Muslim candidates only in Muslim-majority areas, and Muslim votes for ‘Islam-friendly’ Muslim candidates only. Such developments further challenge Malaysia’s political status quo, which is accustomed to ethnic-based parties but never to the total exclusion of minority representation.

Third, the Islamisation experienced in Malaysia does not solely follow the Arabisation route that entails significant deculturalisation from local aesthetics and customs. In recent years, self-identified champions of Islam, including PAS, have adorned traditional Malay attire more, and have made the tanjak (the traditional Malay headgear) a symbol of Malay-Muslim identity. Further boosting the popularity of the tanjak is the popular film Mat Kilau, which has a clear exclusivist message in an ethnoreligious garb (see below). Unlike what some more laudatory accounts of syncretic religion say, the integration of religion with local cultures need not always produce moderation. However, the meaning of Malay culture is always in contestation. A recent event called Keretapi Sarong has shown that its celebration can unite people from all walks of life instead of being another vessel for ethnocultural nativism.

Fourth, even as calls for pan-Muslim solidarity were often made, Malaysia’s right-wing majoritarianism has sometimes sidestepped the usual bogeyman of the Chinese-dominated Democratic Action Party (DAP, also a euphemism for anti-Chinese rhetoric), sexual minorities, and the liberals. In several instances, the disdain of PN-linked or PN-supporting right-wing actors was also directed at the Rohingyas and traders of Arab origins. This arguably shows that nativism is more pronounced than Islamism in driving right-wing mobilisation.

Our point is not that decades of conservative Islamisation has not played a role in sustaining such a political economy that makes fostering organic and tolerant multiculturalism a challenging task. But this right-wing turn in Malay nationalist and Islamist sentiments is a product of complicated origins. Factors of class, religiosity, and race are all within this potent mix.

The ‘Pull’ of the Green Wave

Within this context, the term ‘Green Wave’ is helpful for us to understand how Malay-Muslim majoritarianism operates as a socio-political force. The ‘wave’ metaphor is particularly useful because it shows how this political force, sustained by actors within and outside of PN, swept or papered over a fragmented and uneven Malay Muslim constituency. In other words, the wave has both a pulling and pooling effect. It attracts votes but also aggregates them across a spectrum of Malay voters.

The ‘pulling’ stems from the fact that the ‘Islam under threat’ discourse propagated by many right-wing actors has resonance with a variety of majoritarian insecurity sentiments. For those who experience a situation of post-Covid economic precarity, the message signals non-Muslim domination of the economy (using the ‘non-Muslim’ signifier helps sidestep the near-half non-Malaysian equity ownership that is often wrongly attributed to the Malaysian Chinese). Right-wing activists also smartly tapped into the economic insecurity among Malay youth, working class and urban poor communities.

For those more prone to moral panics, the inclusion of the secular DAP and its liberal supporters in government means the risk of Malaysia becoming more liberal and secular socially. For those lamenting that a group of secular, immoral, and detached elites have dominated the upper echelons of society, the reduction of Malay-Muslim political representation following the collapse of the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO)-dominated government means further obstacles to the ascendancy of a new and arguably more pious Malay urban middle-class.

It is important to note that while there are material conditions that facilitate these sentiments, these insecurities are not directly reflective of a complicated reality where the Malay empowerment agenda is still ongoing and has enjoyed some success. For example, according to a paper, by 2020, Bumiputeras (the majority of whom are Malays) account for “66% of all employed Malaysians, but 68% of professionals”. A potted landscape where neither celebratory nor conspiratorial version of the Malay empowerment story is entirely accurate means there is a need for political entrepreneurs to manufacture such insecurities (especially on social media), something we will discuss in a separate article.

Green Wave as the ‘Pooling’ of Malay-Muslim Votes

Given the cacophony of interests that can potentially respond to this ‘Islam under threat’ master narrative, the true achievement of the Green Wave lies in its pooling effect: those responding to the messaging (not all have come from PN actors) deciding to vote for PN in swathes instead of choosing UMNO or simply abstaining.

This convergence is bolstered by three factors. First, PN enjoys the advantage of being a well-coordinated electoral alliance between a Malay nationalist (Bersatu) and Islamist party (conversely, UMNO, despite cosying up to PAS before the 14^th General Elections, decided to go for a three-way fight arrangement). Seat allocation, the most contentious issue for any electoral coalition gunning for the same constituency, does not appear to be an issue, despite some quarrels between Bersatu and PAS. In the elections, the coalition was also nimble enough to allow the use of the PAS logo in Kelantan and Terengganu while keeping to the PN logo in other states.

Second, PN’s effective use of culture war issues, which is euphemistically called 3R issues in Malaysia (race, religion, and royalty), has a pooling effect, too. Through advancing anti-liberal, anti-minority (especially gender and sexual minorities), anti-pluralist takes on social issues, culture war issues bridge the Islamist-nationalist divide to create a larger conservative majoritarian bloc that enables the ‘Green Wave’ to happen. The saliency of culture war issues in energising conservative majoritarian mobilisation can be seen from the fact that it not only works in places where religion is still a potent force like India and Turkey, but also in a highly secularised setting such as China.

One example of a culture war issue is the uproar against a Ministry of Youth and Sports-supported programme under the Pakatan Harapan-Barisan Nasional (PH-BN) unity government that allegedly brought Muslims to visit churches, which led to a police investigation and the Ministry ultimately abandoning the programme. PN figures have accused it of being a Christianisation agenda, a wild accusation former Prime Minister Muhyiddin Yassin also reportedly made during the elections. But pushbacks also came from the wider public too, including influencers and populist preachers who ended up legitimising PN’s anti-multicultural stances without directly endorsing the parties.

Another cultural moment is the release of the aforementioned Mat Kilau, which emerged as the highest-grossing film in Malaysian history. Despite its problematic ethnic stereotyping and historical revisionism, the right-wing-produced film gained mass appeal as a silat action epic (a popular genre in its own right). Its jingoistic tones also fulfil an anti-colonial fantasy that began as a bourgeoisie discourse but has since trickled down to everyday political discourses. The film’s depiction of Mat Kilau as simultaneously a Malay nationalist and Islamic heroic figure is vital to this pooling effect. Unsurprisingly, the film was quickly capitalised by politicians who sought to unite the Malay votes on their end. The downside is that, like the film, the Green Wave’s call for Malay-Muslim unity is built on this divisive rhetoric on the need to confront the ‘enemies’ of Islam.

Third, the pooling effect also came from the ‘Sanusi’ effect, referring to the PAS Menteri Besar of Kedah Sanusi Md Nor, who has gained immense popularity as a straight-talking ‘man-of-the-people’ populist, much like former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte. Sanusi was so popular to the point that Kedah was the only state that had a higher turnout during the recent state elections; a testament to Sanusi’s mobilising capacity.

Whereas his abrasive style does not earn him universal admiration, he does exert a pooling effect, in that, like former US President Donald Trump, he manages to clinch cross-class support from the Malay-Muslim vote base. The confrontation with the elites gave him the populist credentials; but being an Islamist party leader who outlawed gambling shops in his state and demanded Penang’s return to Kedah to reverse a colonial legacy earned him lots of fans amongst the Malay middle-classes too, given a substantial part of this demography yearns for a more ‘Islamic’ government and an abject removal of any traces of (secular) colonialism. Indeed, PN was so convinced of Sanusi’s popularity amongst the Malay ground that they appointed him the national election director (with many calling him panglima perang, war general) for the state elections. He was also featured heavily in early campaigns in the more urbanised Selangor (see this video that was watched 150,000 times), until he became a liability for allegedly insulting the Sultan of Selangor.

The Future of the ‘Green Wave’?

Understanding its pulling and pooling effects helps us locate the ‘Green Wave’ in a particular historical moment in Malaysia’s changing political scene. The pull factors speak to a situation of high economic, cultural, and political uncertainties; a situation that is not without global parallels. On a sociological level, what helps channel these anxieties in the direction of ethnoreligious majoritarianism is a confluence of multiple factors. Malaysian society is more connected and exposed than ever thanks to social media; more ‘Islamised’ than ever due to decades of Islamisation; and freer than ever to go against the elites and the establishment due to the opening of the democratic space (which also means non-majoritarian opinions can easily be drowned or bullied out of existence in the name of majority rule). The pool factor reflects a potential reconsolidation of the Malay votes following the gradual decline and potential “death” of UMNO since 2008, a countereffect of the West Malaysian non-Malay votes concentrating in PH. The longevity of this wave, to our minds, depends on the interplay between these pull and pool factors. The former relates to the structural, institutional, and even regulatory conditions that sustain right-wing discourses in its toxic identitarian terms; the latter hinges on PN’s continued internal coherence and electoral prowess.

Originally published in French by Missions Estrangeres de Paris. First published in English on stratsea.com.

Introduction

The last four decades have seen an unprecedented change in the outlook of Malaysian society. While Malaysia rose in economic stature with up to 9% annual growth in gross domestic product (GDP) in the 1980s and 1990s, there have been an ideological shift on what Malaysia is and supposed to be. Article 3(1) of the Constitution states that “Islam is the religion of the Federation; but other religions may be practiced in peace and harmony in any part of the Federation.”

The exact meaning and intent of the Article has been a subject of debate. Until recently, the opinions of two former Chief Justices, Tun Mohamed Suffian Hashim (1973-1974) and Tun Salleh Abbas (1982-1984) were considered definitive: it refers to the ceremonial and rituals aspects. The latter, in a landmark judgment in 1988 (Che Omar bin Che Soh vs Public Prosecutor), noted that “the law in this country is still what it is today, secular law, where morality not accepted by the law is not enjoying the status of law.” Even the prominent legal scholar Tan Sri Ahmad Ibrahim affirmed that the Constitution does not declare that the State shall be an Islamic state.

Since the 1980s, however, the rise of Islamism – understood as an ideological movement that seeks to implement Islamic rule, shari’a laws and the imposition of Islamic values in the public sphere – has led to a shift in socio-political thinking. The pivotal moment was when Anwar Ibrahim, a former charismatic leader of the influential Muslim Youth Movement of Malaysia (ABIM) and now the country’s 10^th Prime Minister, was courted by then-Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamed to join the ruling party, United Malays National Organisation (UMNO). Mahathir’s intention was clear: he wanted to ride the wave of Islamic revivalism that was hitting the shores of Malaysia.

That wave came crashing down when Anwar Ibrahim engaged in a state-driven Islamization policy upon his entry into Malaysian politics in 1982. His joining of UMNO was seen as a win for the ruling party who was trying to out-Islamize the rival Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS) who had begun calling for an Islamic state. Since then, Malaysian politics have been shaped by the intense rivalry between UMNO and PAS over the question of “who is more Islamic”. This rivalry peaked in 2001 when Mahathir eventually said: “UMNO would like to state outright that Malaysia is an Islamic state.”

It is within this backdrop that Article 3(1) has become both a subject of debate and a tool to assert the supremacy of Islam in Malaysia. Since the 1980s, the expansion of Islamic institutions – ranging from education to social and financial sectors – have concentrated in the hands of religious bureaucrats and Islamic actors.

The Department of Islamic Development Malaysia (JAKIM), under the Prime Minister’s Office, have seen a steady increase in its national budget over the years. In 2022, it accounted for RM957 million in federal budget. As a comparison, the Ministry of National Unity that was tasked to strengthen the Rukun Negara (the National Principles) and promote interfaith work among others, received slightly half (RM448 million) of JAKIM’s.

 It is clear therefore that Malaysia, over the last four decades, has moved towards an ethno-religious majoritarian state. In the aftermath of the racial riots of 13 May 1969, there was a shift towards affirmative action for the Malays through the New Economic Policy (NEP). This gave rise to the notion of ketuanan Melayu or Malay supremacy. A decade later, Islamic revivalism dictated that Malayness equates to adhering to what is “Islamic”. While what is Islamic has always been variegated and contested, Islamists took the opportunity to capture state powers and impose its version of Islam.

Malaysia has never been the same since then. The impact is most felt by minority groups.

Impact on the Christian Minority

The state-led Islamization policy has affected minorities in multiple ways.

Firstly, there has been a steady erosion of rights and liberty within the public sphere. For example, non-Muslims who enter government offices are required to dress “modestly”, such as women having to wear skirts below the knees. There were also protests by conservative Muslims on the annual Oktoberfest attended by non-Muslims as Islam prohibits the consumption of alcohol.

Islamization has become a driver for the rising conservatism, religious populism and encroachment of Islamist politics. It has been about expanding Islamism’s reach while eroding fundamental rights seen as in opposition to their narrow understanding of Islam. For example, while Muslims are encouraged to proselytize and convert non-Muslims, apostasy (from Islam) is prohibited.

The landmark judgment on Lina Joy in 2007 that rejected her appeal to apostatize and convert to Christianity, is a case in point. More recently last August, the Appeal Court had affirmed the Malaysian High Court’s decision that denied a Muslim woman’s leave for judicial review of the Shariah Court’s decision over her bid to embrace Confucianism and Buddhism. 

The Christian minority, comprising of just 9.1% of the total population according to the 2020 census, has been most impacted. This could be observed by the rise of antagonistic attitudes and state intrusions into their religious spheres. On 7 May 2011, the state-owned daily, Utusan Malaysia, published a provocative front-page headline: “Kristian Agama Rasmi?” (Christianity as Official Religion?). This was promptly used by right-wing Malay groups and Islamists to highlight that there were attempts by non-Muslims to challenge the status of Islam as the official religion of the Federation.  

Six years earlier, a similar sentiment was played out when a coalition of Muslim non-governmental organizations called Allied Coordinating Committee of Islamic NGOs (ACCIN) was formed to protest the formation of the Interfaith Commission of Malaysia (IFCM) under the Bar Council to protect the civil rights of minority religions and to promote religious harmony. IFCM was again seen as an attempt to challenge the status and supremacy of Islam in Malaysia. Since then, interfaith work was viewed with suspicion and specifically equated with “pluralism”, a notion that right-wing Muslims defined as making all religions the same or having an equal status.

In 2014, the Malaysian state of Selangor issued a fatwa declaring pluralism, alongside liberalism, as heretical and a deviation from Islamic teachings. The fatwa specifically targeted Sisters in Islam (SIS), a women’s right organisation, who is still in a legal challenge with the Selangor Islamic Religious Department (JAIS) nine years on.

Perhaps, the most high-profile case involving Christians is the ban of the word “Allah” for Christians in their worship and publications, including the Bible. The banning was issued in 1986. In 2007, the Catholic weekly Herald challenged the constitutionality of the ban, given that there was a longstanding usage of the word, particularly in Sabah and Sarawak, and for the fact that Malay is the national language. The long-drawn process led to the Federal Court’s decision in 2014 that ruled in favour of the government. The decision came at a time of rising tensions that affected Christians, including church arsons, grave desecrations and seizures of over 300 Bibles (that contained the word “Allah”) by the religious authorities in that same year.

The constitutional challenge represented the Christian leadership’s willingness to push back the encroachment of Islamization policy into their religious sphere. Notably, the Catholic Church was not the only denomination that launched a court suit against the government. A few other Protestant denominations did the same as well but was dismissed quickly. However, an indigenous Christian, Jill Ireland, sued the government for seizing a consignment of religious materials containing the banned word in 2008. In this case, the Federal Court in 2021 ruled in her favour and the government decided not to appeal against the ruling. In place of an appeal, the government had stated it will await the decision of the Council of Rulers in October 2023 on this issue, which will then become the government’s policy on the matter.

It should be remembered that a sizeable number of Christians are from East Malaysia, where Bahasa (Malay-Indonesian language) is the language of choice in church service as well as personal devotion. Hence, a ban would involve the dispossession of the Bible (in Bahasa) and other religious materials that contain the prohibited word.

Although the impact has been on Christians, there is also a huge question mark on whether a similar fate will happen to other religious minorities such as the Sikhs and Baha’is whose scriptures also use the word “Allah” for God.

The Return of the “Green Wave”

Since the 1980s, Christian-Muslims relationship have been on a downward spiral with the increasing reach of the government on behalf of Islam that intruded in, not only the religious, but also social spheres of non-Muslims. This is due to the increasing demands by Muslims for a more visible Islam in the country’s affairs. It has led to increasing anxiety among non-Muslims in general and Christians in particular that their civil rights and religious freedom are being trampled on through government policies.

Malaysia just had its 15^th General Elections (GE15) last year. Since the long-ruling coalition Barisan Nasional’s loss of two-third majority in parliament in 2008 and a change of government to Pakatan Harapan (PH) in 2018, inter-ethnic and inter-religious situation has been volatile and precarious. Race and religion continue to be a major factor in politics as the elites vie for influence, power and guarding of their social, political and economic interests. Religious and sexual minorities are the most affected, alongside reform-minded Muslims.

When Anwar Ibrahim became the Prime Minister in 2022 after forging a pact with the flailing and almost decimated UMNO, it was hoped that he will moderate policies that affect the minorities. However, in the recently concluded state elections in Selangor, Negri Sembilan, Kelantan and Terengganu, PAS emerged as a formidable force as it made significant gains in many Malay constituencies. The situation does not give Anwar Ibrahim much leeway to make compromises that might be construed to favour Christians.

Some observers have called the present expansion of PAS’ support as the new “green wave”. Like the religious revivalism’s “green wave” of the 1980s, youths constitute a significant base.

A survey from last year found that there is a high support for Islam’s involvement in politics (75%) and public life (83%). In terms of religious freedom, only 44% agreed that all citizens should be allowed to choose their religion while a mere 6% would agree to allow a Muslim to change religion.

More significant is the overwhelming support for hudud law (Islamic criminal punishment) which amounts to 94%, although they disagreed on when an appropriate time will be to implement it in Malaysia. There is also a strong support for empowered and expanded shari’a law (43%) while another 25% wanted shari’a law to fully replace the Constitution and common law.

Apart from these, there is a low acceptance and respect for sexual and religious minorities as well as the nonreligious (37%). Meanwhile, 83% supports gender segregation in public areas to protect public morality.

These point to a growing conservatism as well as the expansion of support for Islamism. PAS’ quest to take over the government relies on this shift towards conservative and Islamist form of Islam. While various factors can account for this shift, one factor is PAS’ own winning strategies in courting and grooming the young.

When PAS joined the Opposition bloc – together with Chinese-based Democratic Action Party (DAP) and multi-racial People’s Justice Party (PKR) after the Reformasi period in the early 2000s – PAS’ image as a reformist party attracted a broad segment of the population, including resources and support being channelled to the party. This allowed them to expand their grassroots’ presence and involvement beyond the state of Kelantan, where they had ruled since 1990. An important move in PAS’ strategy was to set up of childcare centres, kindergartens and religious schools across Malaysia.

Dominik Müller’s Islam, Politics and Youth in Malaysia (2014), a study of PAS’ Youth’s garnering of support through social media platforms and using pop culture, accounts for why a decade later, a new generation of young voters are fully attuned to PAS’ version of Islam. The proliferation of conservative content in platforms like TikTok that is accessed by the younger generation is not the reason for the new green wave. It is the culmination of two decades of socialization and indoctrination. In a way, PAS is now reaping what it sows as the age of voting was reduced to 18 years in 2021.

Conclusion

What lies ahead? The mood in Malaysia is grim or hopeful, depending on which side of the divide one stands. As it is, religious minorities who have been at the brunt of Islamization have little choice. There is the view that the “green wave” will come crashing soon. Therefore, two strategies could be seen.

First is appeasement. It is hoped that opening lines of communications and dialogue with the conservative faction may mitigate further antagonisms and protect some interests of the minorities when the waves come crashing down. The meeting of the Catholic delegation, led by Cardinal-elect Datuk Seri Sebastian Francis, with PAS leaders in August could be seen in this light. It can, however, strengthen the conservative bloc and ends up giving further legitimacy to PAS’ quest to rule Malaysia and implement their version of the shari’a law.

Second is to give utmost support to the current Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s PH government. This, however, is precarious, given the instability of the current coalition where UMNO’s withdrawal will trigger the collapse of the present government. It will also add fodder to Islamists’ rhetoric on the inching influence of Christians and Chinese within the government’s leadership. Anwar himself might find it politically expedient to distance himself from platitudes for minorities in order to portray his firm commitment to Malay and Muslim interests.

Given the Prime Minister’s weakened position since the last state elections in August this year, he might pander more to the conservative segments of society and dish out concessions to Malays and for Islam. Within the recent months, he was seen parrying up with popular conservative overseas preachers with a huge following in Malaysia: Zimbabwean Ismail Menk and Indonesian Abdul Somad Batubara – both being Salafi-leaning preachers banned in neighbouring country, Singapore. Indeed, the Prime Minister’s recent presiding over a conversion to Islam has cause further uneasiness that he will try to now out-Islamise PAS as did Mahathir’s UMNO in the 1980s.

Observably, Christians in Sabah and Sarawak have been awakened to this religious identity politics that thus far has been affecting Christians mostly in the peninsular states. The current government’s hanging on to power by a sliver is not only due to UMNO’s support but also the 23 seats by the Coalition of Sarawakian Parties (GPS). There has been calls that Sarawak Christians who comprised of the majority in the state (50.1% according to the 2020 census) to engage more with the politics of the peninsular states in order to mitigate the zeal for Islamisation of Malaysia.

There has been signs that Islamists are now expanding their operations in the two Bornean states of Sabah and Sarawak. This signals a new front in the ideological contestations between the conservative forces bent on making Malaysia into a full-fledged Islamic state versus those who believe in the earlier multi-racial/religious Malaysia that, as the 1970 Rukun Negara states, “Guaranteeing a liberal approach towards our traditional heritage that is rich and diverse.” The future of Malaysia is uncertain. Its genesis can be traced to the adoption of state-led Islamization in 1982 – to out-Islamise PAS – by no less than Mahathir himself, through his then-protégé and now rival, Anwar Ibrahim. That Islamic contestation is playing out till today, which, in Oppenheimerian sense, has set in motion a chain reaction that might destroy the entire multi-racial and multi-religious fabric of Malaysia, if the present trajectory is led to its logical conclusion.