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.
