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Introduction

In the tome Terengganu Darul Iman 1881-1936, written by Muhammad Yusoff Hashim, he wrote:

                Bersuka-sukaan di sana ia

                dua tiga orang matinya sahaya

                dibeli pula yang maha mulia

                beberapa cariat muda belia.

                Kulitnya hitam warna gelat

                berkilat pandang seperti shakhalat

                kedua mata putihnya bulat

                rambut seperti di sarang ulat.

                Gemar melihat mahkota negeri

                kulitnya hitam tiada berperi

                diajar pelayan di dalam qasri

                sangat dikasih muda bestari.

                Tiadalah hamba memanjangkan cerita

                di sana tidak lama sang nata

                lepas mengambil haji yang nyata

                kembalilah ia semua serta.

                Di negeri Terengganu tempat sedia

                menderulah datang hamba dan sahaya

                serta kaum kerabat dia

                mengunjungi datang di tanah bahagia.

Hashim wrote about the arrival of dark-skinned slaves, who aroused the curiosity and later acceptance from Terengganu locals. Was this just a story, or were there bondsmen from the Middle East and Africa who lived in the state?

–

When I was a child, my holidays in Gong Kapas, Terengganu, were marked by imaginary adventures or passive curiosity of the neighbourhood. I would stay with my grandparents and their youngest children – and of course my mother – while my father worked abroad. As I grew older, any holiday or reason to go back to Terengganu would see us there.

At that time, in the 1970s and 80s, Gong Kapas was green and lush. My late grandparents’ home was covered with mango and rambutan trees, and behind the house was a wall with an opening to the house behind us. Cats and kittens scampered about. From time to time, goats sauntered in and out of the compound. My late grandmother employed quite a number of maids and help who cooked, massaged, and observed the goings-on in the house. The people from the back of the house trooped into Toknda’s house too to exchange gossip, news and – of course – food.

I was quite young that time, but I was always at the back of the house, because the cats and food were there. My babysitter and the maids would congregate to talk about their men and ghosts. Occasionally, a tall, dark-skinned woman would pop her head in, speak softly, and leave. We never spoke. But I remembered that my cousin, Nadia, would go over to the house behind; she was friendly with the tall lady. That was all I knew of her.

—

By 2006, I was in my mid-20s. I visited Terengganu a lot while my grandparents were still alive. One evening, I was in the garden – which was now a rather strange rock garden – and went inside for a drink. That was when I saw the tall lady, waving at me from outside her window, motioning to me to meet her. I left the kitchen to meet her at the back entrance of her home, thinking throughout the whole process about how very tall she was.

She asked me if I was the grandchild of (now deceased) Tengku Asmak, who was a writer. I nodded.

She asked me to come into her house. In her spare kitchen, she asked me if I knew who and what she was. I shook my head. I only knew that she was called Ya and I assumed she was a very tall Indian Muslim.

She smiled and told me she was an African slave, who came from Mecca.

Terengganu in Brief

To understand Terengganu is to understand its history, which scholars such as the abovementioned Yusoff Hashim have explored in detail.

In his book Terengganu Darul Iman: Tradisi Pensejarahan Malaysia, he describes Terengganu’s geographical challenges that include strong north-east monsoon winds, rough seas and annual floods. These natural conditions shaped the livelihoods of its people, with fishing, skilled labour and farming being the primary occupations. In 1921, the population stood at 66,135, increasing to 95,800 by 1931, with Terengganu town housing around 12,453 residents.

The Terengganu Sultanate traces its origins back to the 18^th century, with 17 sultans ruling since its inception. Mubin Sheppard (1949) details its founding, linking it to Johor’s Bendahara dynasty. In 1718, Sultan Abdul Jalil of Johor was exiled by Raja Kechil, who claimed descent from Malacca’s Sultan Mahmud Mangkat Dijulang. Sultan Abdul Jalil took refuge in Terengganu but was assassinated in 1721. His son, Tengku Sulaiman, allied with Bugis warrior Daeng Perani to reclaim Johor. According to Tuhfat Al-Nafis, Sultan Sulaiman, with Bugis support, appointed his uncle, Tun Zainal Abidin, as Terengganu’s first sultan in 1725.

Patani tradition states that he fled to Patani after his adoptive father, Wan Derahman, was wrongly executed and was sheltered by the ruling Queen Nang Chayam. During Sultan Abdul Jalil’s visit to Patani, an agreement was made to divide Johor’s territories, with Terengganu assigned to Tun Zainal Abidin. After Abdul Jalil’s death, Patani honoured the deal, sending Tun Zainal Abidin and 80 Patani families to Terengganu, where he was installed as sultan. He further strengthened ties by marrying the queen’s cousin, Che Puan Besar. The settlement, Kampong Patani, still exists today.

One of the most well-known rulers was Sultan Zainal Abidin III who ruled from 1881 to 1918. His reign marked Terengganu’s transition from a nominal vassal of Siam to an Unfederated Malay State under British protection. He was known for his charisma, personal adherence to Islamic law and efforts to modernise Terengganu. Breaking from isolationist policies, he embraced reforms and welcomed foreigners. He maintained Terengganu’s independence by showcasing historical manuscripts proving sovereignty and resisting British interference. With the support of religious leader Tok Ku Sayyid Paloh and noble Haji Ngah Muhammad, he opposed colonial control.

Despite his efforts, the 1909 British-Siamese Agreement was signed without Terengganu’s knowledge, placing the state under British influence. Sultan Zainal Abidin III countered by introducing Itqan al-Muluk (Terengganu State Constitution) in 1911, ensuring leadership followed Quranic principles and upheld Malay-Islamic identity. He passed away on 26 November 1918 at the age of 54, deeply mourned by his people.

His successor, Sultan Muhammad Shah II, was born on 1 May 1889 in Kuala Terengganu to Cik Khalthum binti Haji Daud, also known as Cik Istana. His reign was short-lived due to British pressure. The 1918 Bucknill Commission investigated his rule, citing mismanagement, particularly in land and mining concessions. British officials deemed him illiterate and temperamental, justifying their intervention. In 1919, he was forced to accept a British Adviser, officially integrating Terengganu into the British Empire. Struggling under colonial oversight, he abdicated after 18 months in favour of his brother, Sultan Sulaiman Badrul Alam Syah, to take control.

Sultan Sulaiman’s rule (1920–1942) saw Terengganu fall further under British control. British-backed officials attempted but failed to install Tengku Besar Mahmud, a prince of full royal blood (meaning both his parents were of royal descent), as sultan. His reign was marked by natural disasters, including the devastating 1926–1927 floods, and peasant uprisings led by Haji Abdul Rahman Limbong against British taxation policies. The Japanese invasion in 1941 worsened conditions – he died in 1942. His son, Sultan Ali, was later dethroned in 1945 due to a series of alleged misconducts – from holding wild parties, associating with unsavory women, to being pro-Japanese – and was replaced by his uncle, Sultan Ismail Nasiruddin.

The early 20^th century was a turbulent period in Terengganu’s history, marked by frequent shifts in power. Foreign pressures from British colonial administrators and Thailand played a significant role in shaping the decisions of Terengganu’s rulers. The legacy of Sultan Zainal Abidin III endured, as three of his sons became sultans, each navigating the challenges of British colonisation and governance. The evolution of Terengganu from an independent sultanate to a British protectorate, and eventually a part of Malaysia, was deeply influenced by the strength, or weakness, of its rulers. Ultimately, Terengganu’s history is inseparable from the story of its sultans, whose leadership defined its fate.

The Slave Trade in the Malay World: A Global Context

The story of slavery in the Malay world is a truly global one. It is one that can be told alongside the story of how trade and ideas came from the Middle East to the people of Southeast Asia. It is a tale of intricate networks, of characters from all walks of life, told within a wide context that sees the overlapping of religion, local and international geopolitics and economics.

By looking at slavery in a Malay(sian) context, we gain insight into a new history, one that brings together themes that are familiar to us. We are talking about European imperialism, cosmopolitanism, trade networks, Islam, Malay identity and even Malay power. It also involved non-Europeans and local traders who were heavily involved in the trade of slaves, namely from East Africa.

For decades, scholarship on slavery has mainly concentrated on the Atlantic trade. In recent years, however, scholars are looking at other geographical contexts for slavery, especially eastwards, from East Africa, through the Middle East, down the Indian Ocean and to the Malay Archipelago.

The Indian Ocean has emerged as a new context of study. This mass body of ocean has been a witness to the movements of peoples and goods, facilitating travel, trade and even colonialism. Scholars such as Amal Ghazal and Fahad Bishara have contributed to this field by examining the trade networks that connected various points along the Indian Ocean, from Zanzibar to the Indian continent. Slavery scholars are also beginning to look at this context to broaden the global scope of slavery’s history.

The demand for slave labour from East Africa stemmed from the expansion of European-controlled plantations in the 18^th century. In the French-held Mascarenes islands (the group of islands of which Mauritius belongs to), slaves from the East African coast were trafficked to the sugar plantations there. Plantations owned by Arab Muslims growing cloves and dates in the East African islands of Zanzibar and Pemba in the Persian Gulf region also increased the demand for slaves. Demand increased even further with the growing dominance of the British in the region who wanted to maintain their imperial control by propping up slave dependent economies. Slaves did not only appear on plantations, but also in other places too, from factories to the household.

When the European powers arrived, they took slaves from the eastern part of Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) and southern India as a labour force for their newly conquered and established cities in Asia. The Dutch relied extensively on the populations of Batavia to work on building sites or warehouses. Some of them were also owned property of Dutch citizens.

The African slave trade started in the 15^th century, when European powers expanded their lands in the Americas. They traded with local African leaders along the Western coast of Africa, gaining slaves to be brought across the Atlantic to work on European-owned plantations in the Atlantic coast of the Americas and on the Caribbean islands. However, it did not take long until the Europeans started trading slaves from the eastern coast of Africa eastwards for their possessions in the Indian Ocean.

For instance, the Portuguese were the first to bring slaves from Mozambique and Madagascar over to South Asia. Hundreds of thousands of Africans were taken and forcibly resettled on this route, as claimed by Shihan de Silva Jayasuriya. Termed Afro-Asian communities in India, they can be found in Gujarat and Karnataka, the two coastal states facing the eastern coast of Africa.

However, slavery in Southeast Asia cannot only be understood within the context of European imperialism. As noted by Anthony Reid, there was a “fluid spectrum” and conditions of bondage. He pointed out the ambiguous, if contradictory, position of slave – both as a property and person – as part of the household but also an outsider. In the Southeast Asian region, the concept of bondsmen, as opposed to slaves as property, had been in existence for centuries. In the Angkor court, slaves would be taken from less fixed populations, such as fishermen, cultivators and hunter-gatherers.

Furthermore, when examining slavery in Southeast Asia, it is also important to consider the role played by Islam. Stephanie Cronin has urged to move away from viewing slavery within a Eurocentric lens and to understand the institution of slavery within a religious-ideological framework. Much of how Islam and slavery is understood has been through a post-abolition Western discourse that is orientalist and othering in its approach.

In the Middle East, slavery had been in existence since ancient times. The arrival of Islam provided a new legal framework for slavery, but the practice did not die out. While domestic slaves and such were commonplace in the Muslim world, so too was the rise of elite slaves, who were taken by Islamic leaders to hold high positions in the government and military. In some cases, such as the Mamluks in Egypt, they even went on to overthrow their leaders and rule.

Muslim traders had been coming to the Malay lands along tried and tested routes through the Indian Ocean, even before the arrival of the Europeans. They were also active in the trade of slaves from East Africa. These African slaves who were brought over to Southeast Asia lived in a more open slave society, as compared to their Atlantic counterparts. Scholars such as Titas Chakraborty and Matthias van Rossum have urged the need to emphasise the local character of “Asian” slaveries. Many married into the local population and assimilated relatively well into the local population. Islamic law stipulated for fair treatment for slaves, disallowing exploitation, cruelty and prostitution. They were entitled to a formal contract and had the right to access legal aid and protection. Arab leaders took slaves from a variety of communities, including Christians in the Balkans and Africans. In Southeast Asia, local laws, from imperial Chinese ordinances to laws of the Melaka sultanate covered the rights of slaves.

Through studying the presence of African slaves in Southeast Asia, we thus gain insight into a long history that encompasses different geographic spaces that are united by trade, networks and religion across the Indian Ocean.

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.

Agriculture has long been the backbone of Southeast Asia, contributing significantly to food security, economic stability, and rural livelihoods. The ASEAN region, rich with diverse agricultural practices and resources, faces common challenges such as climate change, urbanization, market volatility, and policy discrepancies. As countries navigate these complexities, understanding the socio-economic dimensions of agriculture within the ASEAN context becomes crucial for fostering resilience, sustainability, and collective growth.

In light of these challenges, Yayasan Strategik Lestari (YSL) and stratsea are honored to create a platform for dialogue and knowledge exchange to achieve three primary aspirations: to cultivate a society that understands international relations, to identify Malaysia’s role in addressing agricultural socio-economic issues through expert perspectives, and to gather recommendations for further research and policy benchmarking.

The webinar will delve into critical questions such as:

• What are the socio-economic dynamics shaping ASEAN’s agricultural sector?

• How can collaboration among ASEAN countries enhance agricultural productivity and resilience?

• What policy interventions are necessary to address the impacts of climate change and market volatility on the region’s food security?

• How can Southeast Asia harness its agricultural diversity for mutual benefit and sustainable development?

Webinar Details

Date: Friday, 11 April 2025

Time: 09:30 AM (Indonesia/Thailand) / 10:30 AM (Malaysia/Philippines/Singapore)

Speaker Details

Dr. Dona Laily Wahyuning is a prominent scholar in agribusiness management, specializing in agricultural competitiveness, trade dynamics, and rural socioeconomics. As Head of the Agribusiness Management Laboratory at Universitas Pembangunan Nasional Veteran Jawa Timur, her research offers valuable insights into Indonesia’s agricultural landscape and its regional implications.

Among her notable works is the analysis of rice farming competitiveness in Bojonegoro Regency, which explores strategies to enhance productivity and resilience in one of Indonesia’s key rice-producing areas. She has also examined factors influencing rice imports in Indonesia, shedding light on trade policies and food security challenges. Additionally, her study on the competitiveness of Indonesian cloves compared to Tanzania and Madagascar provides critical perspectives on global spice markets and Indonesia’s position within them.

Dr. Dona’s research reflects a deep commitment to strengthening agricultural resilience and market performance, making her a valuable voice in advancing sustainable agricultural development across ASEAN.

Introduction

The Thai Government was hoping to secure a ceasefire with the Patani Malay separatist rebels for this year’s Ramadhan. However, after over two weeks since the start of the holy month, the two sides still have yet to find middle ground.

Worse, violence has not only spiked – the recent attacks have been extremely daring. As seen on 8 March 2025, a group of about 10 combatants raided the compound of the Sungai Kolok District Office in Narathiwat just before midnight, killing two and wounding seven security officials in a brief but fierce gunfight.

The combatant arrived in two vehicles, one of which was packed with explosives, parked near the district office building. It was set off shortly after they retreated from the vicinity. The same evening, in Sai Buri District of Pattani, a smaller explosive lured Paramilitary Rangers to the scene, where they were hit with a much more powerful bomb. Insurgents commence fire immediately upon explosion, killing three Rangers at the scene. This was not an isolated incident. Earlier in the week, suspected insurgents threw pipe bombs at security officials near the train station in Yala, wounding four bystanders. And on Monday morning (March 17), a security officer from the Ministry of Interior barely survived a blast from a bomb that was hidden underneath her personal vehicle that went off as she was driving to work. Words have been out for some months now about rebel forces urging MOI’s security officials, locally known as Defense Volunteers, to quit their job and to refrain from acting as spies or agent for the Thai security apparatus.

These incidents, caught on CCTV from various angles, reinforced the understanding that insurgency is a form of communicative action in which a non-state actor uses violence to send political messages to the state security apparatus.

Indeed, the Barisan Revolusi Nasional (BRN) has not been pleased with the Thai government’s foot dragging with the peace negotiation. In December 2024, Nikmatullah Bin Seri, the head of BRN technical team, issued a public statement saying the group was prepared to walk away from the process and take back their commitment to negotiate under the Thai Constitution if Bangkok is not serious about the talk. The peace process was supposed to resume once a new government came to power after the 2023 general election.

The following month, Thai Defense Minister Phumtham Wechayachai called on all relevant agencies to draft an “actionable solution” to resolve the conflict. Days later, Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra made her first visit to the far South. Incidentally, she visited the Thamvithya Mulnithi school, where several BRN political figures and the chief negotiator, as well as the late spiritual leader of the movement and the Patani region, Sapae-ing Basor, had worked as teachers and principal before fleeing Thailand to avoid arrest.

Phumtham’s directive and the PM visit may suggest that the government was giving in to BRN’s demands. But in fact, Bangkok was setting rigid terms for future talks. According to a government source, Phumtham has demanded that BRN curb their violence before he would appoint a negotiating team.  He is also considering doing away with foreign mediation, which would mean an end to all back-channeling, and axed the position of the five international conflict experts who function as observers for the high-level talks. Malaysia, the designated facilitator, will be the sole mediator for the talks, according to one Thai official who spoke on condition of anonymity.

It is not clear if Phumtham will scrap the Joint Comprehensive Plan Toward Peace (JCPP), the so-called road map for peace. Thailand and BRN, with the help of foreign NGOs and Malaysia working in separate and often competing tracks, spent the past three years going back and forth on the JCPP. They identified three items to be on the negotiating table: reduction of violence, public consultation, and a political solution to the conflict. Specific details are to be negotiated in the following phase.

BRN leaked the draft of the JCPP to the public early last year to test the water; the result was a big stir among government security officials and the military, who never liked the idea of talking to the rebels in the first place. They still think military option is the best way forward.

Because of the outpour of criticisms from the public and top government advisors, the Thai negotiating team was badly isolated; they were accused of giving in too much to the BRN. What Phumtham does not understand is that for the BRN, the peace process is the beginning of a very long journey that will not rest until the movement achieve either independence or a form of “self-government”. Under the latter arrangement, sovereign remained with Bangkok but regional Parliament makes the law for this historically contested region. According to a report released by The Patani on the peace process, BRN maintained that even under a “self-government”, the people of Patani must retain the right to succession. 

These are tall order, indeed, considering that after two decades of off-and-on peace initiatives, Thailand has never permitted the talks to move beyond confidence-building measures. Even with direct engagement with BRN, the one group that control virtually all the combatants on the ground, Phumtham continue to sound like a broken record – suggesting that the government is still doubtful of working directly with BRN or if BRN is truly the party that the government should work with. While this suggests a need for the government to verify that it is talking with the right people, such verification may not amount to anything in light of the government’s high level of distrust to BRN.

Stalled Negotiation

In line with past practices, the Thai side – remnants of the now-defunct Peace Dialogue Panel, the official negotiators – tried to push for a ceasefire during this year’s Ramadhan, which started on 1 March 2025.

Malaysia’s facilitator for the peace process, Mohd Rabin Basir, tried hard to help the Thais push this request through but was not able to do so. This was because BRN refused to budge on their demand that the ceasefire include a monitoring mechanism by international peace and conflict experts and that local civil society organizations be given a role in observing the process as well. Other demands include the release of BRN prisoners and the appointment of a negotiating team for the peace talks.

Observers of the peace process said they are not surprised why BRN refused to give in to the Thai government’s call for separate unilateral ceasefire during the month of Ramdan. First, said Artef Sohko, president of The Patani, a political action group dedicated to the right to self-determination for the southern people, Thailand has always tried to use the reduction of violence for short-term political gains.

“BRN can see through Thailand on this and that’s why they are not going along with it this time around,” Artef said.

BRN still recalled how the Thai Army belittled their unilateral ceasefire during the Covid-19 pandemic following a call for a global ceasefire from the UN Secretary General António Guterres. It was an opportunity missed as the Thai side could have reciprocated BRN’s gesture of goodwill and build on it. Instead, the Thai Army in the far south unleashed search and destroy operations, taking down combatants who were laying low in and around the home village in a series of lob-sided standoffs.

What was astonishing in the mind of the many security officials was the fact that, despite being outnumbered by 60-70 to one, all but one of the combatants chose death, or rather, fight to death, instead of surrendering, even though their chances of making it out alive were slim to none. A total of 60 BRN combatants were killed in the standoffs during this window.

Despite the grave disappointment because the Thai Army’s refusal to stand down, BRN did give Thailand the benefit of the doubt. The agreement for Ramadhan 2022 was pretty straightforward – the Thai military vowed not to go after cell members, while BRN agreed not to carry out attacks during the Muslim holy month and through Visakha Bucha Day, a Buddhist holiday observed this year on 15 May. A bigger leap of faith was the move to declare all mosques in this region a sanctuary where combatants could meet their family members during the last 10 days of Ramadan, which ended on May 1.

It is Not (Just) Religion

Local activists who observed the conflict warned against bringing religion into the equation could complicate things because the root causes of this conflict are political in nature as it has to do with the Malays’ rejection of Thai policy of assimilation that comes at the expense of their ethno-religious identity. For Muslims in this historically contested region, it is already a big turn-off when this predominantly Buddhist state tries to use Ramadan for its political gain.

Every now and then, Islamic religious leaders have been called upon to issue fatwa, or religious edict, to condemn the rebels on religious grounds. Needless to say, this effort made Muslim clerics in this region extremely uncomfortable as it would pit them against the separatist combattants. Moreover, separatist insurgency between the Thai state and the Malays of Patani does not have the support of the Thai Muslims who live outside the Malay-speaking South.

It has always been the Patani Malay cultural-historical narrative, not religion, that keep on producing generation after generation of fighters. While the banner of the struggle is rooted in Malay nationalism, words and actions are often expressed in religious terms. All Patani Malay fighters are buried as shahid, or martyr, for example. For the Malays of Patani, identity and religion are two sides of the same coin. Thus, when Thailand pushed through its policy of assimilation that required the Malays to deny their own identity and embrace the Thai one, they rejected it violently.

Today, the battle over the narrative between the Malay activists and the Army has reached the court. Patani Malay activists feel that they should be able to talk about referendum in a public forum, while the Army insisted that such discussion is not negotiable. Sadly, said Artef, the Army appeared to have the support of the so-called pro-democracy movements in Thailand when it comes to Thai nationalism.

While many may support the idea of a separate Malay Muslim state, no one would openly say it publicly as it would invite nasty retaliation from the Thai government. So far, more than 40 youth activists have been charged by the police, at the request of the Army, with instigating a separatist state because they had used words like “Bangsa Patani”, “referendum” and “shahid” in relation to the conflict resolution and the combatants killed in a gunfight against the Thai security forces. In the local context, Bangsa can be translated as community, nation or even narrative.

History Stings Still

While Ramadan carries a religious significance for Muslims worldwide, the Malays of Patani are reminded of the Tak Bai massacre – an incident in October 2004 – in which 78 young Malay Muslims were smoldered to death on the back of Thai military trucks; seven others were shot dead at the protest site.

However, just a month before the 20-year statute of limitation expired, a Narathiwat court decided to try to cases on murder charges against 14 men linked to the death of the unarmed demonstrators. Officials were not able to bring any of the accused to the court and the case was permitted to expire. For some, it was their last attempt for justice. For others, it was an opportunity for some kind of closure with the hope that the country could move on as a nation. Obviously, that did not happen.

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

A 30-minute walk from the glamour and glittering of Ban Rak Thai village is a quiet border crossing that divides Thailand from a nameless checkpoint. It is manned by a lone soldier from the Wa National Army (WNA), a small outfit that came into being in 1973 under the leadership of Maha Sang, the son of Sao Maha, the saohpa of Vingngun, a region in Shan State just north of Panghsang.

They sided with the Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang – KMT) against the China-backed Communist Party of Burma (CPB) back in the day. Like other warlords, Maha Sang survived the rugged Golden Triangle through deals and alliances with militia groups and their warlords.

His ailing brother, Maha Ja, took over Khun Sa’s Hua Muang stronghold immediately after his surrender and assumed the role of the town’s mayor with his own militia that functioned more like his personal security details.

Following the death of Maha Sang in 2007, the WNA placed itself under the United Wa State Army (UWSA) command and control. The group was permitted to keep their flag and uniform, as Thai authorities along the border are much more comfortable dealing with the WNA.

There are just too many histories with the UWSA, a senior Thai Army officer on the border said.

Thorny Relations

The UWSA and the Myanmar government established a ceasefire in 1989, but this was a far cry from a peace treaty. Thus, getting Myanmar to “talk sense” to get the UWSA to pull back – so that the Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra does not have to look weak and bad in the eyes of the critics – is still a pipe dream.

In fact, said sources on the border, the Myanmar junta wants Thailand to “teach the Wa a lesson.” Myanmar’s State Administration Council (SAC) could not do it, as it would open a new can of worms that the Tatmadaw may not be able to handle.

A Thai think tank Center for Strategic Policy presented its report “Myanmar and Thailand: Strategic Pathways to Regional Peace and Stability” at a December 2024 seminar. Author Supalak Ganjanakhundee said Thailand should not rule out the idea of strengthening cooperation with the UWSA as well as other ethnic groups on cross-border management that could facilitate trade, movement of people and humanitarian responses.

The question is this: why does Thailand want to be seen courting the UWSA?

Like any other organisations, the UWSA wants acceptance and recognition. Having demonised the group over the years, presenting the Wa as a trusted partner of the Thai government will not be an easy sell. The two sides have had several rounds of face-to-face talks between unit commanders on the ground, but these were not negotiations, as the Thai side did not go there with anything to offer.

Ethnic armed organisations along the Thai border are similarly disturbed by the UWSA southward expansion. These include the Shan State Army-South, the Karen National Union, the Karenni National Progressive Party, the Karen National Army and the Kawtoolei Army. Wa flags have been planted at locations where the Three Brotherhood Alliance scored victory.

Chinese Presence

The UWSA is presenting itself as a “peacekeeping force” in places like Lashio, the largest town in northern Shan State that was captured by the Three Brotherhood Alliance in late June 2024. This current role and newly conquered territories left open the question of what exactly constitutes a Wa state.

Moreover, will this arrangement become permanent and serve as a link between the UWSA in the north on the Chinese border and its southern command on the Thai border?

The UWSA and Chinese officials have always insisted that their relationship is more nuanced and based on mutual interest and respect. Thai security planners, on the other hand, are concerned that the Thailand-Myanmar border could fall under China’s sphere of influence.

Beside the UWSA, Thai authorities are not comfortable with the presence of Chinese law enforcement officers poking around the Tak province and the adjacent areas. These are where militia-protected cyber scam centres operate freely in Myawaddy Township, opposite from the Mae Sot district.

In early 2024, dozens of Chinese police operated out of a resort that they had rented out for months. Royal Thai Police HQ in Bangkok instructed local officers to assist their Chinese counterparts to make their stay worthwhile.

Credit: Tha Lahu National Development Organisation/The Nation

But there was no sharing of intel. The Chinese police handled the investigation all by themselves, including their engagement with the Chinese crime syndicates behind the scam centres in and around the Myawaddy border town, adjacent to Mae Sot.

Things heated up in early February 2025 during the visit of Vice Minister Liu Zhongyi to Thailand. Pressured by China to do something, the government ordered a power cut to several towns on the Myanmar side of the border, including areas where the scam centres were operating.

Similar actions were taken two years ago, but the scam centres made up for it with powerful generators and a Starlink Internet connection.

Falling in Line

This time around, however, sensing that the Thais were serious, Colonel Chit Thu, leader of the 7,000-strong Karen National Army (KNA), the outfit that protects sizeable Chinese crime syndicates in his area, began to make moves. Starting with the press conference on 17 February 2025, he conveyed to Thai journalists that “We will take responsibility for clearing out the call centers in KK Park, Myawaddy, and Shwe Kokko and will send all foreign nationals to Myawaddy.”

“It is then the responsibility of the Myanmar police, as the Naypyidaw central government has sent officers to handle the cases. From the tripartite meeting, each country will take their people back, but how they return, I don’t know,” said Chit Thu.

He added that he was disappointed that some Thai lawmakers were calling for a warrant for his arrest, insisting that he had not broken any law. A number of Western countries beg to differ.

A much smaller outfit, the Democratic Karen Benevolent Army (DKBA), responded to Thailand’s request and set a 28 February 2025 deadline for all Chinese scam operators to leave Phayatongsu. This is a DKBA-controlled area (about 133 miles south of Myawaddy) opposite the Three Pagoda Pass of Thailand’s Kanchanaburi province.

On 13 February 2025, the DKBA sent 260 people of various nationalities over the border to Chong Kaeb subdistrict, 76 km south of Mae Sot. The group said another 400 of mostly Africans and South Asians were stranded with them, waiting to be sent to the Thai side of the border where they could link up with diplomats of their respective countries.

“It’s obvious that the DKBA wants to be seen as being helpful to Thailand as they depend so much on us for their survival,” said a Thai police officer with working relations with this Karen outfit.

The DKBA controlled an area opposite from the Chong Kaeb subdistrict where several casinos had been operating until Chinese scam centres moved in this past year. Obviously, however, the DKBA weighed the two options – income from the Chinese scam centres vs a long-standing relationship with Thailand – and the latter made more sense for the outfit’s survivability. The KNA’s Chit Thu, on the other hand, is still holding out, weighing his next move carefully. If the history of this rugged region tells us anything, it is that the leaders and warlords of the Golden Triangle know how to compromise if the conditions and situations are right. They may not rush to the negotiation table, as seen by Panghsang not being too eager to resolve the border dispute with Thailand. Yet it does not mean they are unwilling to make compromises.

Introduction

Along the Thailand-Myanmar border, remnants of China’s lost army persist, transforming into tourist attractions where visitors sample Yunnanese cuisine and traditional Chinese tea.

Ban Rak Thai, locally known as Mae Aw, exemplifies one of the numerous villages where descendants of the Nationalist Chinese Kuomintang (KMT) forces established settlements in the 1960s.

Forced out of Shan State of Myanmar – also known as Burma – after several failed attempts to stage attacks against Communist China, these communities represent a complex geopolitical legacy.

“Between 1950 and 1952, the Kuomintang army in Burma’s Shan States tried no fewer than seven times to invade Yunnan but was repeatedly driven back across the border. The Burmese Army then entered the Shan States to rid the country of its uninvited guests, and that in turn led to an unprecedented militarization of the Shan States,” wrote Chiang Mai-based Swedish journalist Bertil Lintner in his book, “The Wa of Myanmar and China’s Quest for Global Dominance,” published in 2021.

“But the areas east of the Salween River were too remote to be affected by the buildup. There, the Kuomintang reigned supreme through alliances it had established with local warlords, most of them from Kokang and the eastern Shan States, but some of whom were also Wa,” Lintner added.

One of the few cash crops in the Wa Hills and other mountainous areas where the KMT had established bases was opium, which they used to finance their campaign against the communists.

By 1961, the combined forces between Burma and the People’s Liberation Army began to push back against the KMT. A turning point came in January 1968 when the China-trained Communist Party of Burma (CPB) militias crossed the border from Yunnan into Shan State and went straight to the KMT bases.

Eventually, it was time for the KMT to move. Some were evacuated to Taiwan while others crossed into Thailand to form communities like the one here in Ban Rak Thai, a 90-minute drive north of Mae Hong Son provincial seat.

The Thai government convinced the KMT leaders as well as the hill tribes in the region to kick the opium habit in exchange for tea and other cash crops. Thai citizenship was gradually given first as a reward to those fighting against the Communist Party of Thailand and gradually to KMT descendants.

Warlords and Militia Leaders

With the KMT gone, it did not mean Shan State was at peace. New warlords and militia groups would emerge in the Myanmar sector of the Golden Triangle to continue with the opium and heroin business, sending it halfway around the world to streets of New York.

One such person was Chang Shi-fu, who, incidentally, started as a young government village militia to fight the CPB.

Born in 1933 to a Chinese father and a Shan mother in northern Shan State, Shi-fu rose from a young government militia to become the head of his own outfit. He was convicted of high treason in 1973 by the Burmese government and released the following year after his supporter kidnapped two Soviet doctors and ransomed them for his freedom. His release was brokered by a Thai Army general.

From 1974 onward, Shi-fu directed his fight against the Burmese Government, proclaiming himself a Shan nationalist, and adopted the name Khun Sa, or “Prince Prosperous”, in the Shan/Tai language.

Another figure was Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese who fled Yunnan after the Communist victory and relocated to northern Shan State to do business with the local soapha, or chaofah in Thai, which means “lord of the sky”, a royal title used by the hereditary Tai rulers in mainland Southeast Asia.

Wei and his two brothers would relocate to an area near Thailand’s border, where they joined Khun Sa and his outfit. A fallout with Khun Sa forced him out of the Shan circle. They then reconnected with his old network in Shan State and later linked this newly formed alliance with the powerful United Wa State Army (UWSA) when it was established in 1989. Afterwards, they gained access to the vast poppy field in the Wa Hills where raw opium could be refined into heroin.

In 1993, the United States indicted Wei with heroin trafficking and offered a US$2 million reward for information leading to his arrest. Three years earlier, in March 1990, Khun Sa was indicted by the United States for the same crime, with the same amount of bounty placed on his head.

By mid-1990, relentless assault on Khun Sa’s Mong Tai Army (MTA) by its arch-rival the UWSA and the Burmese government troops forced him to surrender in exchange for amnesty.

After Khun Sa’s defeat, the Burmese Government told the UWSA to return to the Sino-Burma border in the north. They refused and instead mobilised more than 100,000 villagers from its Special Region 2 along the Sino-Burma border to newly built towns along the Thai border that stretches from Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai and southward to the northern part of Mae Hong Son province. Special Region 2 is an autonomous area secured from the Myanmar Government in 1989 in exchange for an unwritten ceasefire agreement.

About 10,000 UWSA troops control this so-called UWSA southern command under the leadership of Wei and his brothers. Border outposts and camps along the border once under Khun Sa were immediately taken over by the UWSA. Wherever possible, the UWSA set up a volleyball court on hard-dirt plains – daily matches were supposed to bring them and the Thai troops closer together.

The turning point came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai’s Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs. Authorities said it was a drug deal gone bad. All fingers pointed to the UWSA.

Deteriorating Relationship

Closing the border leading to Wa’s towns built by Thai contractors was the next logical thing. Thai contractors were told to pull out. For the Thai troops along the border, it meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa soldiers had to come to an end.

Clashes between the two sides became frequent as drug caravans carrying Wa’s methamphetamines make their way into Thailand.

An all-out offensive occurred on 20 May 2002. The battles took place well within Myanmar’s territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA’s outposts several kilometers inside the Myanmar border.

Thai Army’s armored personnel carrier, along with soldiers from Special Forces, cavalry squadrons and artillery units had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, and Mae Hong Son provinces for the past weeks to await instruction.

The mobilisation was called Surasri 143, supposedly a military training exercise. One elite unit was tasked with capturing Wei but could not find him as he had fled deeper into Myanmar.

When the dust settled, the UWSA began to build nine outposts that sit smack on the Thai fence. Three of these crossed into Thai territory, according to Google Map. Thai conservative media and right-wing press decided to play this up, calling on the government to take action against the UWSA, giving both the government and the Army that much more headache.

The Current Landscape

Today, no one in Thailand wants to turn back the clock to 2002. Thai troops and UWSA soldiers at the local level are talking to one another in a much calmer atmosphere; local troops described their conversations as friendly but Wa’s crystal meth and methamphetamines continue to find their way into Thai soil.

No one is turning a blind eye to the drug caravan as massive drug bust along the border demonstrated but the Thai government has retreated from politicising the drug issues, as it was not worth the cost.

Talking is better than shooting one another, said a Thai Army unit commander on the border.

For years, Thai Army in the region has wrecked their brain on how to get the UWSA to move the nine outposts, particularly the three that allegedly crossed into the Thai side, just a little bit back to avoid any possible confrontation. The UWSA has had presence there since the fall of Khun Sa in the late 1990s.

The Thai Army even asked Myanmar’s supreme commander, Senior General Min Aung Hlaing during his visit to Thailand in 2014, to intervene on Thailand’s behalf. Still, the UWSA refused to pull back.

Thai Army has held several face-to-face meetings with the local command, including with senior UWSA officials in Mong Hsat back in November 2024, but to no solution has been reached. Wa soldiers at the Thai border said they are not authorised to pull back without an order from Panghsang, their main headquarter located on the Sino-Burma border.

According to Thai Army sources, Panghsang has suggested the Thais take up any allegation of territorial dispute with the Myanmar Government. Interestingly, the UWSA treats territory under their command as a country within a country; this is despite Myanmar soldiers and officials being required to disarm and be escorted when entering the Wa territory.

Many critics, especially those on social media, appear to want the Thai Army to use force to push the UWSA back. Officials on the border said a military victory will not be difficult. However, no one wants to turn the clock back to the old days when clashes between the two sides were all too common.

The hard parts are obviously an all-out offensive and its aftermath. There are just too many tourist attractions and foreign visitors along the northern border; the stakes are just too high for Thailand, particularly the tourism industry, Thailand’s golden goose.

Introduction

In recent weeks, Indonesia has seen the emergence of a narrative on the rise of Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) after its legal entity was revoked by the government in 2017. This began when a solidarity action against Palestine was held in various Indonesian cities on 2 February 2025.

Although the group that staged this action did not carry HTI’s name, the group’s employment of HTI’s characteristic black and white flag, as well as espousal of such jargons as caliphate and jihad, clearly show HTI’s remnant being the driving force behind this action.

Consequently, mainstream media highlighted the issue of HTI again, focusing on its ideological threats, political motives and transnational character.

Since shortly before its disbandment in 2017, the government has generally portrayed HTI as a threat to the state and nation, one that carries a subversive ideology.

This is a shift from the government’s stance when HTI came about in early 2000s. Some HTI figures even also became board members of the Indonesian Ulema Council. Clearly, resistance was in short supply back then, if any at all.

So, what happened in 2017, the year HTI was banned?

To recap, various academics have explained this harsh policy against HTI as a form of revenge for the group’s involvement in the anti-Basuki Tjahaja Purnama (Ahok) movement during his blasphemy case. Such a fate befell not only HTI, but also Front Pembela Islam (Islam Defenders Front), which former leader has shown signs of stirring as well.

Narrative of Hostility

Despite the regime change, there remains the narrative that portrays HTI as a radical, anti-Pancasila and pro-caliphate group, including in the mainstream media.

This is more or less the same as the narrative used to describe the movement in various countries such as those in Europe, the Middle East, the United States and Australia. This narrative has been utilised as a legitimising factor to dissolve or ban this movement around the world.

However, such narrative also ignores the movement’s resilience, evidenced by its enduring remnants and covert activities to advance its agenda of caliphate and oppose the existing system, albeit without using its official name.

Several factors explain this resilience against authoritarian and repressive political environment.

The first is internal factors. HTI is able to build its cadres by inculcating robust ideological roots juxtaposed against the problems of the ummah and the urgency to establish caliphate as a remedy. This ideological galvanisation strengthens the bonds between members as well as allows them to operate easily under various banners and conditions.

HTI’s resilience is even more remarkable considering its relatively small number of members, compared to mass organisations such as Nahdlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah. The members’ militancy has enabled this movement to influence the public narrative at the national level. Various mobilisations have been carried out to respond to an issue, at both national and international stages, through online media or various actions and forums – the aforementioned pro-Palestine action was just one example.

The second is structural factor. This includes global and national political conditions in Indonesia.

In the global context, Hizbut Tahrir and other Islamic movements have advocated various issues affecting the global Muslim population, including poverty, foreign intervention, the Zionist occupation of Palestine, and the impact of global capitalism on Muslims.

In the local context, HTI occupies a comfortable seat in the middle of the Indonesian public by highlighting public concerns such as corruption or abuse of power, economic disparities, and various government policies that are not pro-people.

Even though its messages carry the same DNA as those espoused by other social movements criticising the government, HTI packages all of its criticism of the government under an Islamic framework to make its discourse more accessible to the Indonesian Muslims.

The third is communication acumen. HTI is also able to attract the public because of its expertise in utilising social media through various platforms. It increases its appeal with attractive packaging that suits the needs of the public today, including the youth.

This is what mainstream Islamic groups in Indonesia do not have, which largely still dwell on traditional ways of undertaking da’wah. In addition, these groups mainly focus on social issues such as education, health or religion. Rarely do they incorporate national political issues in their campaigns.

The same applies to both nationalist and religious political parties, whose political functions are not optimised to represent the voice of the Indonesian public. In fact, these parties appear usually only engage the voters in political contestations, during which they churn out promises that would eventually disappoint their own voters.

This is a niche that HTI – a banned organisation – is able to exploit, a void that mass organisations and political parties fail to close or even help to create.

All of these factors explain the movement’s resilience despite all the negative narratives that circulate about it.

In addition, efforts to stigmatise HTI – as carried out by the state of Nahdlatul Ulama activists – seem to bear little impact. Narratives attacking the idea of caliphate may not be effective especially when there is a recent shift to acknowledge that caliphate is a legitimate political system in a Muslim society. This idea gained traction when the Indonesian Ulema Council issued a fatwa in 2021 stating that the caliphate is part of Islamic teachings that should not be negatively stigmatised.

The Need for a New Approach

In the global Islamic politics, a state’s response to Islamic political movements commonly uses two approaches: confrontation and accommodation.

The first approach views Islamic political movements as an enemy – consequently, the only way to deal with them is to eradicate them.

The second approach tries to embrace these Islamic groups and invite them formally into the state apparatus. However, this second approach is criticised as merely a tool to tame Islamic political movements, forcing them to compromise with secular-liberal ideology and ultimately aiming to eradicate their ideology, not unlike the first strategy.

There is, however, an alternative option labeled the new convergence approach that acknowledges the existence of various Islamic political movements with all of their different ideologies. The new convergence approach argues that instead of seeing the political Islam as a threat, this ideology should be seen as a critique of the liberal ideology, especially owing to the many problems that governments functioning under liberal tenets are facing. It suggests that solutions offered by the Islamic framework should be considered by these governments.

There are examples for this: Some welfare states in Europe have incorporated aspects of leftist ideology in an attempt to manage groups affiliated with this.

In the context of HTI, the government adopted the accommodative approach from 2001 to 2017, though this was later reversed as the government pursues a policy of dissolution and stigmatisation.

To be fair, it is understandable that HTI’s call for caliphate could be detrimental to Indonesia’s democratic system and the nationalism of its people. Thus, when triggered by HTI’s involvement in the anti-Ahok movement, the government opted for the confrontational approach in its handling of the movement.

This, however, has not stopped HTI’s activities. Its da’wah and political engagements has continued to grow and spread in various levels of the society even as Indonesia’s political and economic conditions deteriorate. Worse, the repressive policy contributed to the decline of the quality of Indonesian democracy, which of course is more detrimental to Indonesia’s image globally.

As an alternative, the government may consider the new convergence approach in managing HTI, perceiving its messages as both a challenge and an opportunity to address the current condition in Indonesia. The process of acceptance and rejection of HTI’s ideas depends on the dialectic that occurs in society and the government’s response to these ideas. 

Such an approach has a precedent in Indonesia’s political history, such as the of the formation of the Indonesian state and the adoption of Pancasila as the basis of the state. These two were the outcome of a cross-ideological compromise and negotiation between the Islamic and nationalist groups. Furthermore, various policies and regulations in Indonesia have also adopted aspects of the Islamic economy including Islamic banking, waqf and sharia pawnshop.  

Therefore, there is nothing inherently wrong with accepting parts of demands by groups such as HTI. Equally, there is also nothing wrong with including ex-HTI figures in policy discussion as well, especially if the aim is to vanquish deep-seated problems such as corruption.

Conclusion

In managing HTI, the government needs to reconsider continuing its repressive policy by focusing on solving the structural problems that occur in Indonesia to increase the public trust. On the other hand, HTI’s ideological narratives need to be responded to with counter-narratives that aim to resolve Indonesia’s problem realistically.

If the government continues its approach in securitising HTI, more people will only flock to this movement. Therefore, the government needs to reconsider the approach taken to face the ideological challenges of HTI more carefully for the benefit of the Indonesian political future.

Introduction

On 23 January 2025, the Pathumwan District Office in Bangkok organised a marriage registration event at Siam Paragon, a large shopping mall in the heart of Bangkok, where over 300 couples sought to wed. On the same day across the country, 1,754 couples of diverse genders registered their marriages at district administration offices.

The recent passage of the Equal Marriage Act in Thailand, which allowed the LGBTQ+ community the right to marry, made Thailand the first country in Southeast Asia to legally recognise the right of sexual minorities to form a family. It is also the first in Asia to grant this right through an amendment to the Civil and Commercial Code, which was approved by Parliament late last year.

Signs of changing attitude are evident across the region, where there have been recent legal changes regarding the LGBTQ+ communities.

In 2022, Vietnam’s Health Ministry declared that homosexuality is “not an illness.” Singapore repealed a colonial-era ban on gay sex but amended its constitution to define marriage strictly as a union between a man and a woman. Meanwhile, Malaysia’s Federal Court ruled in February 2024 that Kelantan’s Sharia law on “unnatural sex” was unconstitutional.

Despite this, Indonesia remains vehement in its opposition against the LGBTQ+ community. Aceh, where Sharia-based laws are enforced, is an example. Last month, two university students were flogged for engaging in consensual same-sex relations.

This law is an important step for Thai society, particularly in terms of inheritance rights, tax reductions for spouses and decision-making in critical situations, such as emergency surgeries.

However, while the passage of the Equal Marriage Act represents a significant legal and social shift in Thailand, the impact of such changes is not uniform across the country.

In the southern border provinces – Patani, Yala, and Narathiwat – where the insurgency has persisted for more than two decades, Islamic traditions strongly influence community values and practices.

Thailand’s Push for Marriage Equality

This was not the first proposal to recognise same-sex marriages within Thailand’s legal system, though previous attempts always ended in failure.

The idea of marriage equality originated from a proposal by the Move Forward Party and was later carried by the Pheu Thai Party, alongside NGOs, activists and other stakeholders aiming to recognise the right of sexual minorities to form families. They view LGBTQ+ rights as a global norm that needs to be adapted to domestic political, organisational, cultural and societal conditions.

On 16 June 2022, there was a push for consideration of the draft Marriage Equality Act in the House of Representatives, which includes the draft amendments to the Civil and Commercial Code and the Civil Partnership Act. Ultimately, the House of Representatives approved the principle of these bills. Key provisions include issues relating marriage, dissolution of marriage, property management and inheritance. For example, the term “spouse” is used instead of “husband and wife” to encompass family formation between individuals of the same sex, with a minimum age requirement of 18 years old.

Challenges at the National Level

After the overwhelming approval of the bills (369 in favor and 10 against), concerns were raised by Muslim representatives from the southern border provinces on 21 December 2022. They argued that the proposed bills conflicted with Islamic principles, as Islam is followed by around four million people in Thailand.

Among the 10 who opposed, seven were from the Prachachat Party (which received over 500,000 votes in the last national election, mostly from Muslims in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat), two were from the Bhumjaithai Party, and one was from the Democrat Party. Nine out of the 10 opponents were from the southern border provinces.

A representative from the Prachachat Party stated that “We are not campaigning [for marriage equality] …. These are facts that will appear in the three southern border provinces and will be evident to the general Muslim community because it impacts their way of life.”

This opposition is significant. Section 66 of the draft Equality Marriage Bill, which was considered by the committee, states that “The provisions of the Civil and Commercial Code, as amended by this Act, shall not apply in cases where specific laws concerning family or inheritance are provided.”

It should be noted that the application of Islamic law is an exception to the general law. In Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat, it has long been used to handle cases related to family matters or inheritance, with a separate court system based on Islamic principles.

Although it is evident that the opposition of Muslim MPs has been relatively minor, it shows a dialectic that continues to exist among political actors regarding the subject of same-sex marriage.

Challenges in Southern Thailand

Thus far, there has been no strong opposition or protest against the Equal Marriage Act by Thailand’s Muslim communities. In Bangkok, there have only been symbolic acts, such as some mosques displaying signs of “No Same-Sex Marriage” to encourage the Islamic community to follow religious principles. Meanwhile, Tok Imam in the southern provinces typically express their opposition by delivering a khutbah during Friday prayer.

Interviews conducted in the southern provinces offer some nuances.

According to a local, “The reason people in this area fervently oppose it is because our religious beliefs are relatively strong.”

Meanwhile, a Muslim transgender who was born and raised in the area explained that “Society forces us to hide our identity. Even though the “Equal Marriage” law has been passed, religious and cultural influence do not allow us to come out, express ourselves or make decisions for our own lives. Meanwhile, transgender people and those with diverse sexual orientations in the area are citizens who deserve the same rights and welfare as everyone else in the country.”

Both of interviewees agree that in southern Thailand, local traditions and community norms still hold significant influence.

Additionally, the adoption of this law may not have a major impact on the Muslim population in these provinces, as Muslims in the region place greater importance on “nikah”, a religious marriage ceremony in Islam guided by Islamic law, rather than civil marriage registration, which follows the state law.

After performing nikah, Muslim couples are not required to register their marriage at the government office. As a result, at this early stage, there is no urgency for Muslim individuals or groups to openly support or endorse marriage equality.

However, the consequence is it remains near impossible for Muslims with diverse sexual orientations to enter same-sex marriage (under religious law) and live openly. The religious principles of the local population act as a filter through which the acceptance of the LGBTQ+ rights is interpreted domestically.

As a result, rather than accepting or rejecting the norm outright, the community exhibits neither strong resistance nor full acceptance. The fact that Islamic law is considered separate from the state law also helps, as it creates a perception that Islamic customs and practices are “protected” against the influence of such global norms as the LGBTQ+ rights.

Such might not be the case in Thailand’s urban centres, however, including Muslim-dominated areas in central regions. Owing to their heavier exposure to global norms and more secular social environments, acceptance towards same-sex marriage might be higher.

Conclusion

Compared to the rest of Southeast Asia, Thailand has been more progressive with regards to the LGBTQ+ rights, but we need to acknowledge the nuances. At the national level, the Equal Marriage Act, as a manifestation of the rising global norm, seems to be well accepted. However, opposition has been expressed by the Muslim population of southern Thailand. This is because this new norm cannot be fully adapted into the region’s strong religious values (i.e. Islamic principles), which shapes the community’s beliefs and practices regarding marriage.

Consequently, it remains almost impossible for the people in the southern region to fully accept or open up to this issue. Their deeply rooted cultural and religious beliefs pose a barrier that hamper a full reconciliation with the concept of same-sex marriage. As a result, sexual minorities in the region continue to live on the margins, under the shadow of societal rejection.

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